I opened them and watched his hand moving between my thighs, faster and harder, my pelvis moving in synch with his rhythm. His other palm raked my breast, rolling the nipple, the gold band on his finger reflecting the light. The sight of those strong, tattooed arms across my pale body and those eyes watching me through a haze of their own made me soar higher and higher.
“Is that what you wanted? Because all you had to do was ask,” he groaned into my ear. “I want to see you come.”
My head rolled back against his chest, and moans emitted out of me uncontrollably.
Hearing him groan in my ear sent me over the edge. I came hard. So hard that I needed him to keep doing whatever the hell he was doing so I could ride the painful fluttering all the way.
And he did.
It was so intense that I keeled over in his arms. If Angelo wasn’t holding me with one arm across my chest and the other still between my legs, I would have doubled over the sink.
We both breathed hard.
“Adoro vederti perdere il controllo, la mia ragazza difficile,” Angelo graveled close to my ear, slightly bending forward with me, his chest on my back.
I gripped the countertop, still fighting to catch my breath. The low rasp in Italian alone sufficed to create more pulsations.
“What does that mean?” I huffed, my head bent down, my face between my stretched arms.
“I love seeing you lose control, my difficult one,” he translated.
I couldhearthe smirk.
“I’m not yours,” I managed to mutter, raising my head as much as I could, still weak from the force of that orgasm. I knew that I had lost, had surrendered myself to something that wasn’t real.
While my body was still reeling from what Angelo had just done and was still doing to it, my heart wasn’t ready. Whatever happened between us couldn’t last. The ending was inevitable, so the fighting in me hadn’t died.
“Still trying to control everything? Resisting to feel?” I could see on his face the words he didn’t utter,when all you really want is for me to fuck you?
Shreds from our fight before surfaced in my dazed head. “Who do you think you are?” I expelled, still breathily, my voice a reminder of my state. My gaze was a dagger, but a futile one.
Angelo didn’t reply. He bent and kissed his way down my jaw to my neck from behind. He then pulled his hand from between my thighs, spun me around, and made me arch back toward the mirror. He circled my breast with his palm and brought his mouth down to suck and lick on my nipple until new moans emanated from me in a pitch I didn’t know I was capable of.
He stopped and straightened up to look at me. Huffing a dry chuckle, he half-whispered, “The one who is going to make you lose it again.” He pushed further against me, hard as a rock, and my eyes closed on their own accord at the feel of him.
I wanted him inside me. I was aching for it.
And he knew it.
He wrapped me in his arms and crashed his lips on mine. The little feistiness in me died against his mouth.
This cocky sonofabitch was right.
He was going to make me lose control again.
And I was yearning to let him.
24
Angelo
It was addicting. To see June raw, feel her dripping wet, sweaty, hair wild against my chest, eyes ripped open, hazy, witnessing herself losing it through the mirror. I thought I knew how much I wanted to see June dissolve in my arms, melt under my touch, stripped from her restraint, bare. I just never imagined that her surrendering would make me lose myself, too.
And the sounds she made … music to my ears. Like a well-tuned classic finally rocking it like it should.
She was light enough for me to carry her like that—lips entwined, my arms circling her waist, lifting her slightly off the floor, and carrying her half-naked to her bed.
Her mouth, that in the last two days had spouted rules, accusations, and rebuffs at me, was now busy moaning into mine. Her dignified effort from a second ago, to maintain dominance over herself, over me, had evaporated as rapidly as her fingernails sank into the skin of my back.
