With a gentle push, he guides me back onto the bed. Grips my hips and hauls me to the edge. His dark-eyed gaze is on my face, hungry.
"You're so beautiful." Hands on my knees, he peels them apart. Gaze drops, attaching to the center of me. "This part of you? A totally different kind of beauty."
His fingers touch me now, spread me apart. Lazy strokes, up and down. Slow. Luxurious.
Almost like he'splaying.
"Hugo," I whimper. I need his mouth, his tongue.
"A tease for a tease," he murmurs.
Throwing a forearm over my eyes, I playfully pout. "You are so mean."
His finger slides into me. Curls. "Is that mean?"
"Yes."
He breathes a chuckle. Then there's the swipe of something warm and wet over me. "Is that mean?" he asks, his deep voice pressing into my sensitive part.
I let my forearm drift back over my head. Eyes on the ceiling. "That was very nice."
The softest, sweetest kiss over that little bundle, and I stiffen.
"Should I keep being nice?" The vibration of his words rolls over me.
"Yes, please."
"So polite," Hugo teases. His tongue takes the place of his fingers working those slow, lazy strokes. "Let's see how impolite I can make you be."
Two hands slide under my ass. My hands find his dark hair, fisting. His pace is unhurried, like he could spend all day where he is.
Behaving as if he doesn't just like it down there, he loves it.
My nails find his back, scratch. My hips bow off the bed. Groaning and mewling, I say, "Just like that, Hugo. Just like that. Don't stop."
When I come, it's like a freight train barreling downthe tracks. A body-wide experience. Hugo stays where he is, softly lapping at me, as if he's bringing me down the same way he brought me up.
Planting soft kisses on the insides of my thighs, he says, "You taste amazing, you smell incredible, and I could listen to you come everyday."
Living on a beautiful olive orchard with a man like Hugo, and coming every day? That's my idea of utopia.
Hugo stands, and that's when I realize he's still clothed. I sit up, reach for him. He thumbs his glistening lower lip while I unbutton and unzip his jeans.
"Take off your shirt," I tell him. He reaches behind himself, gathers the fabric, removes the shirt in one fell swoop. It's backwards-hat-level sexy.
He helps me work his jeans and boxer briefs over his hips, and then he kicks them away. And here he is, naked and glorious and mine to do with what I please.
My fingers trail over his abdomen. "It's criminal how muscled you are." Placing my hand on his hips, I haul him forward to me. Lick his abs, tongue tracing where my fingers were. His length brushes my breasts, and he fists it, gathering the wetness like I did on the drive, runs it over my nipples. My head dips, and I take him in my mouth.
His moan is strangled, and I love it. Love the way I can make him sound like that. This man who operates a huge business, who cares for his employees, who's been so hurt and covers it so well.
He hits the back of my throat, and I gag.
"Are you ok?" He brushes the hair back from my face.
I pull back, let him sit in my mouth while I look up at him and nod.
"Fuuuck," he groans.
