I don’t have to answer him. I know he sees the answer in my eyes when his breath feathers my lips. When I don’t resist, he presses his mouth to mine.
Heat engulfs me. The world disappears.
I fall against him, my body melting into his.
He holds me tight with his other arm as he nibbles and licks my mouth. I can feel his thick, hard length pressing against my stomach. When he slides his tongue inside my mouth and deepens the kiss like he’s going to swallow me whole, I swear I see fireworks. He tastes like whiskey and need.
His kisses grow more desperate, his tongue more insistent, until my lips feel bruised and I’m grinding shamelessly against the hard steel of his erection.
I’m starting to panic because all kinds of memories and feelings are surfacing and threatening to drown me. My heart rate is spiking, and I can’t breathe. I’m getting lost, and I’ll never find myself again if I let this continue.
I pull back, my chest heaving, and meet Sandro’s tortured, lust-filled gaze.
He must see the panic in my eyes because he closes his eyes and leans his forehead against mine. “Lennon.” My name is a whispered prayer.
“What do you want from me, Sandro?” Ichoke out.
A few seconds of silence tick by as frustration narrows his eyes, and then he turns me around, lifts me by the hips, and deposits me on the edge of the desk.
A gasp leaves my lips. My head spins from the combination of alcohol and his large hands that are now scorching a path up my calves to my bare thighs. I begin to tremble with need as his fingers dig into my thighs and part them.
He presses his thick erection against my core. There’s nothing but material between us. I whimper. I should stop this.
His eyes are burning, his breathing uneven. “What do I want?” His voice is gruff and there is nothing sweet about the way he’s looking at me. His inked hand grips my jaw. “I want to finish what I started ten years ago.”
He slides his other hand between us. My dress is short enough that sitting like this has it riding up on my hips, giving him easy access. Running two fingers over my soaked, silk panties, he hums. “Fuck. You’re so wet. Is this for me, Angel?”
“Yes,” I whisper, because I don’t want him to think Preston has anything to do with the aching arousal I’m feeling.
His eyes darken as he presses his thumb into my clit.
A whimper of need climbs up my throat.
He leans forward and begins to suck and bite at my jaw as his thumb circles faster and harder.
The pressure already building in my core has me gasping and clutching his biceps to keep myself from floating off the planet. Bulky, rock-hard muscle moves beneath my palms.
With a growl, he grabs the thin material and rips it off. Then his fingers are sliding down my bare, slick folds and pushing inside me. At the same time, he bites down on my earlobe and groans. “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about having my fingers in this pussy again.”
I spread my thighs for him, my face on fire, panting like I just ran a marathon. I’m already so close to exploding, my walls are fluttering around his fingers.
“Eyes on me.” His husky whisper in my ear is a command. “You’re going to come for me, Angel.” He adds another finger, stretching me in such a delicious, mind-blowing way, I cry out. “That a girl,” he growls. His fingers slide deeper inside me, thrusting harder and faster, while his thumb presses on my swollen clit.
I choke out a scream as my orgasm explodes like a supernova. My walls clench around his fingers in wave after wave of ecstasy. Our eyes are still locked as he leans forward and crushes my mouth, swallowing my whimpers as he continues to pump his fingers slowly inside me, letting me ride out the contractions on his hand.
After they subside, he slides his fingers out and brings them to his mouth, sucking my glistening arousal. Then his lips are crushing mine again, slipping his tongue inside, so I taste my release. At the same time, he grinds his thick, steel erection against my barepussy. When he rolls his hips, I gasp. The roughness of his slacks is almost too stimulating. But as he devours my mouth, I want more.
I press myself into him. My hands move into his hair, gripping it as hard as he’s gripping mine.
Suddenly there’s a knock on the door.
We both freeze.
I’m immediately swept back in time, to the hotel room that fateful night.
It wasn’t hard to find a room that wouldn’t be occupied for the night. Mom had given me a spare card that gave me access to the rooms for when I helped her clean.
What was hard was knowing this was the last summer Sandro would be coming to Tampa.
