“Good,” I say, pushing him back onto the mattress. “Because I’m starving too.”
I crawl on top of him, chasing his mouth every inch of the way. Kissing him like I need to taste myself on his tongue. Like it’s the only thing that will keep me tethered to this earth.
I shove his pants down and off, tossing them somewhere I don’t care to remember.
We’re both naked now. Both of us hard and aching.
I don’t even know who reaches for who first, but suddenly we’re shifting, twisting—his head at my hips and mine at his. A perfect, messy tangle of mouths and want.
I take him into my mouth and he gasps.
I groan around him as he sucks me down again, our bodies moving in rhythm, in sync. Two halves of a desperate, frenzied whole.
It’s overwhelming—too much and not enough.
He moans when I swirl my tongue. I groan when he swallows me deep. Our hands clench. Our thighs tense. We’re close—so fucking close.
I pull off just long enough to pant, “Don’t come, just orgasm. Not all the way. I want to fuck you until the sun comes up, Lucciolina.”
He lets out a strangled sound around my cock, and I feel him twitch on my tongue.
We work each other like men possessed—neither of us holding back. We want to please each other. Wreck each other.
And when the moment hits, it’s like lightning.
My climax rips through me, raw and relentless, just as his hips stutter in my hands.
He only comes a little—just a taste.
And I don’t waste a single drop.
Grant is breathless beneath me as I kiss my way up his body—slow, reverent. Tasting every inch of his skin, every shiver. His chest heaves. His fingers tremble where they tangle in the sheets. In my hair.
He’s trying so hard to keep it together, but I can feel him unraveling for me.
When I reach his mouth, I pause, hovering just above him.
“I want to watch you this time,” I murmur, voice wrecked. “When I slide into you, I want to look into your eyes.”
His hips jerk. A soft, helpless sound escapes him—somewhere between a moan and a whimper. He’s grinding up against me now, needy and desperate, chasing any kind of friction.
“Fuck,” I hiss, “I can’t get enough of you.”
I sit back on my knees between his spread thighs, taking in the sight of him—flushed and panting, pupils blown wide, stroking himself with shaky fingers as he watches me.
I don’t look away as I lube my cock—slow, deliberate—letting him see how slick and ready I’m getting for him.
His breath catches with every movement, his eyes glued to my dick. He’s obsessed. And I love it.
“You watching, Lucciolina?” I murmur, voice low and rough. “I’m going to fuck you raw.”
He gasps, hips twitching.
“Forever,” I add. “Because this tight little hole? It’s mine. It belongs to me. No one else gets to touch. No one else gets this. No condom. No barrier. No one between us. Ever. You understand?”
He moans—loud—his whole body trembling. He nods, frantic.
“Say it.”
