It was a dream. It was a goddamn dream.
The sheets are twisted around me. My tank top is sweat-soaked. My underwear is ruined. I've never been this wet.
"Goddammit," I groan.
It was a dream. Nothing but a fucking dream.
I'm going to lose it.
I'm so horny, it's painful.
I can't do this.
I have to do something.
I can't think about him. I can't touch myself. It'll only make things worse.
But I'm wound so tight, I might explode.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling again. My pulse is throbbing between my legs. My skin feels hot and cold and electric. I've never been so turned on, and the thought of him makes it worse.
I'm going to lose it.
It can't just be a dream. It can't.
I'm a grown-ass woman.
I need to do something about this.
I need a release.
I have a vibrator. Back in Italy.
It's not like I packed it for the trip.
I slide my hand down my body, over my breasts, still trapped in my tank top. I rear up to pull it off.
It's a relief to be bare.
My hand comes back down. Over the swell of my breasts, the dip of my stomach, and then into the elastic waist of my underwear.
My fingers slide against hot, slick skin, and it's such a shock that I almost stop.
I'm so fucking turned on.
I find my swollen clit and start to rub, and the noise that comes out of me is so raw, it scares me.
But it feels so good.
I'm wet and hot and slippery. My hand moves. My hips rock. I'm not going to last long.
I picture Giovanni over me, his strong arms bracketing me in while his thick cock moves in and out of me.
I imagine his lips against mine, the feel of his breath mingling with mine.
I feel his hands, large and warm and calloused, on my skin, touching, stroking, teasing.
His lips around my taut nipple. I roll my nipple between my fingers and squeeze my sensitive breast.
