He pistons two fingers inside me, his mouth keeping a steady pressure on my clit, and even though I can’t make out the words, he’s muttering, whispering against my pussy, urging me, praising me as I grind and grind.
I lift my hips and work my hands in his hair, chasing the climax that’s just out of reach, every nerve ending in my nipples and core liquid and melted, aching and desperate.
With every groan I feel against my flesh, the rumble of his curses, his breaths, his kisses, he adds just the right friction to send me skyward.
When I finally come, it hits me like a blast of wind, pushing, pushing, pushing me through wave after wave of pleasure. The sensation is harder, more intense than any I can remember.
As my body releases, my legs collapse against the bed, and he turns his face to rest his head against my thigh. He’s panting, and I’m completely out of breath, the pounding of my heart so fierce in my chest, I’m sure he can hear it.
“I’m so fucking glad I found you,” he says.
I pull my weak fingers from his hair, and we just lie there together for what seems like minutes, neither one of us speaking, neither one of us breaking the erotic spell. This feels right. Like I could crawl up the down comforter, tuck myself under, and cuddle into his pillows. As long as his body was spooned right there behind me.
I could imagine never leaving.
Never getting enough of this.
As my body cools and I come down from a place so lust-drenched and delicious, I feel like I can hardly think straight, his words echo in my mind. I hear what he said with stark and sudden clarity.
I’m so fucking glad I found you.
And that’s why I jump out of bed, throw on my yoga pants, and run.
7
BENITO
Between havinga gorgeous woman literally run from my bed to the bullshit I’ve been dealing with in the kitchen with Mags all week, I practically collapse when I finally make it over to my parents’ house.
I arrive at my parents’ early, hoping to score a few minutes alone with Ma before the chaos of my three siblings, their spouses, and the many kids. But my hopes are pretty much dashed when my sister Grace opens the door.
“What the hell, shithead,” she says, leaning forward to kiss me on the cheek. “You’re early.”
“What’d I do now?” I ask, kissing her back. Gracie’s long black hair is up in a sleek ponytail, and at my question, she lifts a perfectly shaped black brow at me.
“Nothing, Benny. Absolutely nothing. Ryder’s parents took the kids to the city for a sleepover for the weekend, so I’m kid-free. I’m cursing and drinking while I’ve got the chance. As long as Ma doesn’t hear me. I have no spare change for the swear jar.” She nudges me in the ribs. “For reals. You’re never here before the food is on the table. What happened? Restaurant burn down?”
I say a silent prayer and look for some wood to knock. “Don’t even joke about that,” I tell her. But the fact that Grace is swearing and sassy makes things feel a little more normal. I need some normal today. I need my family today. This is home, and I’m so grateful I have this place to come to.
I flick Gracie in the ribs like she nudged me, but harder, little-brother style.
“Hey!” she yells. “Stop.”
“What’s the yelling about?” Ma pads into the hallway, her brows furrowed in full mama mode, until she sees me. Her face immediately shifts into a look of concern. “Benito? Baby, what’s wrong?”
She practically pushes past Grace to get to me.
“Thanks, Ma,” Grace says, plopping down on the couch with my parents’ dogs. The little Chihuahua tucks down into Gracie’s lap, and Grace swaddles her in a blanket. “I’m just the one who got flicked in the rib cage. I’m totally fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“You hush,” Ma says, nodding severely at Grace. “Let me discipline your brother.”
I shake my head. I am thirty-one years old, I own a business, and I haven’t lived at home for nearly ten years. But you’re never too old to be disciplined by Lucia Bianchi—not if you deserve it.
Ma glares at me as she reaches for my face, and I bend down to kiss her. She grips me tight, pushing up on her bare toes to hug me. “My heart,” she whispers in my ear. “Is everything okay?”
“I can hear you,” Gracie says, sounding bored. “You want me to leave? You guys need some mother-son privacy? I’ll go find Pops and tell him some secrets of my own.”
Ma and I look at each other, and I nod at my sister. “Would you?” I ask in a low voice. “I’m not shitting you, Gracie.”
