“Is that what I need to do?” I ask, turning my attention from the screen to Matteo.
He’s lounging across the couch with his legs spread so I can lie between them.
“Yeah.” He licks his lips. “After that dinner, I’m craving some dessert.”
I laugh again, but instead of ignoring his antics, I crawl up his body so our fronts are flush. From my time with Matteo, I’ve learned that he has a short attention span. He can go from readingThe Giver, to watching a show, to wanting to have sex or work out in a short span of time. He’s never been diagnosed, but I wouldn’t doubt he has some form of ADHD. Sometimes, it gives me whiplash, but other times, I love the way he marches to the beat of his own drum.
“You want me tositon your face?” I clarify.
“Uh-huh.” He smirks mischievously.
He pinches my chin and pulls me in for a quick yet passion-filled kiss. “Sit on my face, baby.”
He moves down the couch until he’s lying on his back, and I know he’s deadly serious. Since I’m only wearing his shirt and a pair of panties, I slide my panties down my legs and then sit up, unsure of how to go about this.
“I love you,” I tell him. “And while I know you’re going to make this good, I’d hate to suffocate you before I have a chance to marry you.”
Matteo barks out a laugh and reaches around and slaps my ass. “Get up here so I can eat that pussy.”
He grips my hips, and I slide up his body until I’m hovering over his face, but in this direction, I have nothing to do but stare at the empty room while he makes me come.
So, instead, I clamber around until I’m facing the other direction. “If you’re getting dessert, then so am I,” I say, bending at the waist and pulling out his erection.
He’s already hard, so I wrap my fingers and lips around his pierced shaft and get to work on sucking him off.
He moans in pleasure as he pulls me toward him so I’m positioned right above his mouth and then starts—as he put it—eating his dessert.
Since he wanted this, I don’t give the fact that I’m literally sitting on his face a second thought. He’s a grown man who’s strong enough to lift me if my pussy is suffocating him.
I suck his dick while I gently roll his ball sack, determined to make him come before I do. The man is an expert when it comes to my body, and he knows where every erogenous spot on me is.
We’re both close to climaxing when his phone starts to ring. We ignore it, consumed with each other. But then it starts to ring again, and I pause, unsure if he needs to get it.
Rather than cutting it short though, he flicks my clit, silently telling me he’s not stopping until I come, so I go back to sucking himoff. Within minutes—and several missed calls—we’re both moaning through our orgasms.
I can normally handle the taste of cum—though it’s not my favorite—but the moment it touches the back of my throat, I gag and shoot up.
With my mouth filled with cum, I climb off Matteo, nearly falling over, thanks to my post-orgasm shaky legs, and make it to the kitchen sink just in time to throw up everything I ate today.
“Fuck, baby,” Matteo says, moving my hair out of my face. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I cough, then rinse my mouth out with water. “I think your cum hit the back of my throat wrong.” I turn around and wince. “Sorry about that,” I mutter. “Not exactly the sexiest moment, huh?”
“Hey.” He grips the back of my neck. “I just spent the better part of ten minutes eating your pussy while you sat on my face with my cock shoved down your throat. It doesn’t get any sexier than that. Besides”—he smirks—“I can’t imagine it’s easy to handle all this.” He thrusts his hips, and I chuckle, thankful that I get to spend my life with this man.
I’m about to suggest we take a shower when his phone starts to ring again, and he sighs.
“I’d better take that.”
He leans in and kisses me, not giving a shit that I just finished throwing up. I can smell and taste my arousal on him, and it causes my legs to clench.
Matteo notices and chuckles. “Already ready for round two?” he taunts. “I’m going to see who it is, and then I’ll meet you in bed. I want you waiting for me on all fours with that perfect ass in the air.”
Because he doesn’t have to tell me twice, I do as he said, but when he enters the room and I glance back, I can see from the look on his face that round two won’t be happening.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, flipping onto my backside and sitting up.
“There’s an issue at the port,” he says, his tone cold since he’s switched to business mode. “A shipment has been confiscated.”
