He moved back down my belly, then traced the waistband with his tongue.
He didn’t stop there, though.
His fingers drew down the material inch by inch.
My overheated skin met the cooler air, making a shiver rack my system as Venezio tossed my pants off the bed.
Then he reached for my legs, placing my feet gently on his chest.
I immediately didn’t trust the wicked little smirk he shot me. Rightly, I might add, as his lips pressed to the inside of my ankle.
He went up one calf, then down the other, completely ignoring my little whimpers, the way my hips were writhing restlessly.
Only when he kissed the inside of the other ankle did he lift my legs, placing them on each of his shoulders, spreading me for him.
But if I thought it was to allow him to yank down his pants and slide deep inside me to give me what my body was crying out for, I was very mistaken.
It was his hand that moved between us.
My breath stuttered as I felt the tip of a finger near my clit. But Venezio wasn’t going to make it that easy for me. He teased around until I was rocking, trying to get the friction my body was aching for.
As soon as I found that, though, his fingers slid downward, then inside me.
A low, deep moan escaped me as his fingers started to thrust. Slow and deep.
Even if it wasn’t the fast, frantic pace I was craving, the pressure built slowly but surely until my walls were tightening as I got closer to that edge.
Before I could crash over it, though, his fingers were sliding over me.
“Not yet,” he said. A pained cry escaped me. In response, Venezio’s eyes went molten as he slapped my pussy, making pain and pleasure mingle and dragging a strangled sound out of my throat. “You started it,” he reminded me as he lowered down, his tongue sliding up my ankle, calf, knee, and thigh.
Then his lips and tongue were on me.
I knew he was not going to let me come.
But I couldn’t seem to help but sink into the sensations, to hyper-focus on his tongue circling my clit as the pressure built and built.
Just when I thought even the edging might be enough to take me over the finish line, though, Venezio’s tongue moved away, sliding downward, then curling and thrusting inside me.
In the end, he got his way.
Of course he did.
“Venezio, please,” I begged, my hips writhing.
He pulled back and sat up to look down at me, his gaze heated but victorious.
“Please what?” he asked, hands rubbing up and down my thighs.
“Please fuck me. Please,” I said again as frustrated tears pricked my eyes.
He scooted back off the bed, then grabbed my hip and turned me onto my belly.
I lost him for just a few seconds as I heard the crinkle of the foil as he protected us.
Then the mattress depressed as he climbed on behind me. His hands were on my hips, yanking me backward by them. He massaged one of my cheeks for a second before I finally—finally—felt the press of him against me.
I sucked in a breath that released on a cry as he slammed deep inside me.
