"Tell me what you want."
"I don't... I don't know."
He nips my ear. "Yes, you do."
His tongue swirls against the sensitive spot just behind my earlobe, and I cry out.
"I want... oh!"
"Say it."
"T-touch me. Please."
Just like that, his right hand travels lower. Past the soft skin of my stomach, stopping just shy of my waistband. "Here?"
I'm burning with mortification. But I don't want Luca to stop, and so, I blurt, "Y-yes. Please."
The moment the words are out, his hand is under my skirt.
Fingers brush the edge of my panties. Teasing, promising.
Then he presses his palm against the seam.
Oh God.
The friction is almost unbearable. My hips jerk, and his arm snaps around my waist to hold me steady.
"So sensitive," he purrs. "So wet for me."
My face flames, but it's true.
He slides my underwear aside and slips a finger inside me.
My eyes widen.
I've never been touched like this before. His fingers are thick, calloused, but gentle. He slides a second in, and I shudder. It's uncomfortable.
"Relax, angel," he croons. "Let yourself go."
He thrusts his fingers into me. Slowly, at first.
And then not so slowly.
"Ahh...!"
My hips rock back, meeting his rhythm. I'm panting, gasping, moaning his name like a prayer.
It's so good.
It's so wrong.
But it feels so right.
I'm lost. I'm drowning. My whole world has narrowed to his mouth on mine, his left hand cupping my breast, his right hand's fingers buried inside me.
I never want this to end.
But something is building. An ache, a tension, a pressure low in my belly. He's driving me toward the edge, and I'm falling, tumbling, racing toward it at breakneck speed.
