“Fuck, this is a dream come true,” he says against my hardening bud. “Lie back.”
I do as I’m told, but the second my skin touches the cold surface, I shoot back up. “It’s freezing.”
I’m scooped up into his arms and carried to the living room, where he places me on one of the couches. As I lie down, he grabs hold of my panties and rips them down my legs. My high heels fall off in the process, then my legs are pushed wide open, and his head ducks between my thighs.
I’ve never had a man go down on me before, and the sight has my lips parting. When his mouth latches onto my clit, I draw in a sharp breath.
He licks and sucks until my butt lifts off the couch. The pleasure he’s giving me is unlike anything I’ve experienced before.
My hips begin to gyrate, but then he suddenly stops, and with a dark chuckle, he pulls away. His heated gaze burns over my body, and he shakes his head. “Fuck, you’re dangerous.”
When he gets up and walks toward the kitchen, I blink like an idiot for a few seconds before I yell, “What are you doing? Come back and finish what you started.”
“That sounds a lot like an order, princess. Maybe try begging.”
“Asshole,” I snap, and climbing off the couch, I go after him.
If he wants to play dirty, so can I.
I wait for him to pick up the knife again, and when he opens the pack of sliced ham, I sink to my knees.
His attention snaps to me, and as I crawl into the space between his legs and the island where a stool can fit, I feel nervous. I’ve never done anything like this and hope I don’t screw it up.
Christiano tries to act nonchalant as he begins to cut the ham into squares, but when I take hold of his boxers and pull them down to free his hard-on, his eyes flick to me again.
I wrap my hand around his cock, and take a good look at it, noticing veins running beneath his skin. Slowly, I begin to work my fist up and down his hard length, then I lean forward and take the swollen head into my mouth.
I swirl my tongue around him to wet his skin, and when it earns me an unexpected groan from him, my eyes dart back to his face.
Christiano’s lips are parted, and his features are drawn tight, all his attention laser-focused on me.
I suck him a little deeper before pulling back.
“Fuck, Sienna.” His voice is hoarse and uncontrolled.
I take him deeper as I begin to suck him harder. My curiosity returns, and with my free hand, I cup his balls, careful not to accidentally hurt him.
“Jesus Christ,” he hisses. “You’re killing me.”
His cock jerks in my mouth, and not wanting him to orgasm, I pull back and crawl out of the space.
As I climb to my feet, I say, “I’ll cook the pasta.”
I hear the knife clatter as it drops on the island, and the next second, I’m swept into the air and hauled over Christiano’s shoulder.
“Oh God,” I shriek from being manhandled, and as he stalks out of the kitchen and up the stairs, I smack his ass while complaining. “Your shoulder is digging into my stomach.”
Another shriek escapes when I practically fly through the air for a second before his strong arm pins me to his chest, while his other one wraps around the back of my thighs.
When I’m dropped on the bed and he crawls over me, I say, “You’re freakishly strong.”
“You weigh nothing.” His mouth nips at mine, his face dark with desire, as if he’s a second away from fucking my brains out.
I trail a finger over his jaw. “Is it weird that I’m turned on because you manhandled me?”
He chuckles while dropping kisses down my throat. “Not at all.”
My eyes lock on the ceiling, then they widen. “Why the hell do you have mirrors all over the ceiling?”
