“Wow, then I amnotdoing my job right.”
He chuckles into my neck before rolling back, taking me with him so we’re on our sides, so he can get his hand on me. But he just fondles me, light touches, caressing my nutsack like it’s valuable, beautiful, fragile. Normally I’d be bitching by this time about how I want him to fuck me into the mattress, but not this time.
This time I let him explore, even though every instinct in me just wants to rut. I treat it like penance, though it’s the nicest kind I can think of, allowing myself to be teased. My dick’s leaking everywhere like it always does, and Luca slicks up his hand with it, thumbs it out of my slit, gets me wet and sticky and aching for him.
“You’re the most gorgeous thing in the world, you know that?” he murmurs into the back of my shoulder, and finally starts to move his hips, rocking into me. His hand is still on my cock, jacking me slowly, deliciously, and he wraps his other arm under me and around my chest, holding me tight against him, rolling us further over so I’m on top of him, impaled on him, my head tipping back into the curve of his neck.
My legs fall apart over his thighs, opening my ass up for him even further, my heart along with it. Luca pulls his feet up to get purchase, thrusting up into me as he moves, but he doesn’t fuck me. He keeps me balanced, spread out, jacking me slowly, fingers getting tighter as he goes on. I turn my head to lick the side of his face and he catches my tongue in his mouth, sucks at it, makes me moan.
I want more.
I start rocking, little movements that make his cock drag over just the right spot inside me, that little bundle of nerves lighting up, warmth radiating out through my limbs. I’m almost dizzy as our slow, careful fuck builds up into a whole-body experience. My nipples tighten. My balls draw up. My dick is aching in his hand.
When my orgasm comes, it doesn’t hit so much as wash over me, waves of intensity that make me gasp into his mouth. It goes on and on as he milks me through it, and then with a final few bucks of his hips, Luca lets out a long, “Ohhh,” like he’s having an ecstatic vision.
We stay like that for a while, his cock deflating in my ass, my dick still leaking a stream that drips off my belly. He plays with my nipples idly, fondling me like a favored pet.
“That was different,” I say at last. I mean it flippantly, but it comes out hushed and awed.
“It sure was,” Luca agrees, his hand sliding up, pulling my face around again so he can kiss me. “There might be something in that ‘one soul’ idea you have,” he says afterwards. “When you came…I felt it.”
“I mean, youdidhave your dick in me.”
He snorts. “You know what I mean.”
Idoknow what he means. And when we connect like that, it’s magic. The sex is always amazing with Luca. Always. But then there are times it transcends us both and becomes something…more.
It’s almost frightening sometimes how much I love him.
* * *
I wakein darkness thanks to the blackout curtains, although my phone tells me it’s coming up on lunchtime the next day. But like in hospitals, time has no meaning in Vegas. I slip out of bed quietly to let Luca sleep on. The man deserves ten years of sleep to make up for all the hours he’s lost over the last few months.
In the lounge area of our suite I find the remote to pull back the curtains and look out over the city again. My new home. For who knows how long? Luca has refused to give me any time guarantees. For that reason alone I had to pack excessively. Eight bags, plus four carry-ons—two each. Luca wasn’t happy about it, but he let it pass.
Be prepared, right?
The time zones are fucking with my head, though. My phone says one thing, but what time is that really? Shit, I need to get used to this.
I prowl around the place, pick upobjets d’art, look at the paintings on the wall. There’s a moon theme, but it’s not tacky at all. It’s actually pretty good shit. A lot of it is from local artists who work out in a commune in the desert, according to the pamphlet of information on them. Maybe weshouldtake a trip out to the desert one day while we’re here.
We’re still alive, it occurs to me as I shower. Sonny Vegas didn’t sell us out or send assassins in our sleep. Luca piled all of our still-packed bags in front of the door last night before we slept. Poor man’s alarm, although I insisted on taking out our clothes for today.
I can unpack the rest later, get acquainted with the closet space.
A sudden empty feeling wells up in me, the same feeling I’ve spent most of my life running from. Drugging away. Drinking away. Fucking away. I open my mouth to fill it with the warm shower water and then spit it out. Can I really go wake up Luca for more sexual healing?
Well. Itissupposed to be our second honeymoon.
But when I burst back into the room, still half-wet and totally naked, Luca has gotten himself out of bed. He opens his arms for me to give him a hug, but tactfully ignores the way I rub my hard-on up against his thigh. “Breakfast first, angel,” he says gently, and kisses me before he pushes me away. “And then I want to talk to Sonny before we do anything else.”
“I’ll come to talk to Sonny, too,” I say, wandering off to the bedroom.
“It’s business, baby bird.”
I really don’t like the way he says that. “And?” I challenge, coming back out into the lounge.
He won’t look at me. “I’m gonna shower.”
