I nod frantically.
“Words, doe. I need words.”
“Yes. Please. Take them off.”
He hooks his fingers in my sleep shorts and pulls them down slowly, torturously slow, his eyes never leaving mine. The cool air against my heated skin makes me gasp.
When he pulls my panties down too, exposing me completely, his breath catches. His eyes darken as he takes me in, and I fight the urge to close my legs.
“Look at you. Already so wet for me.” His thumb traces through my folds, gathering the slickness, and I whimper at the contact. “You’re dripping. Is this all for me?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
He brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean, his eyes never leaving mine. “You taste like heaven.” His hands slide up my thighs, spreading them wider. “Can I lick you?”
“God, yes.”
“Say please.”
“Please.” The word comes out desperate, needy, and I don’t even care. “Please, Vincenzo.”
He settles between my thighs, his broad shoulders forcing my legs wider. The sight of him there, blond head between my thighs, the brown dye rinsed away, is almost too much. Then his tongue makes contact, a long, slow lick from my entrance to my clit, and my back arches off the bed.
“So sweet,” he murmurs against me. “I knew you’d taste this good.” His tongue explores me thoroughly, lapping at my entrance, tracing my folds, learning every part of me. When he finally focuses on my clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue, I have to bite down on my hand to keep from crying out.
“Let me hear you,” he says against me. “Quiet, but let me hear you. I want to hear every sound I pull from you.”
He works me with his tongue, slow, deliberate circles around my clit that have me trembling. He alternates the pressure, soft, teasing licks that make me writhe, then firmer strokes that have my thighs shaking. He seals his lips around my clit and sucks, and the sensation makes my hips buck against his face.
“Grind against me,” he commands, his voice muffled. “Use my mouth. Take what you need.”
I do, tentatively at first, then more boldly, rolling my hips against his tongue. He groans in approval, the vibration adding another layer of pleasure. He works me with his tongue, slow, deliberate circles that have me trembling. Just when I think I can’t take any more, he pulls back, leaving me gasping.
“More,” I whimper.
“Tell me what you need.”
“Your fingers. Inside me. Please.”
“Like this?” He slides one uninjured finger inside me, a thick intrusion, and I feel the brush of his bandages against my inner thigh. His finger moves slowly, exploring, and I can feel how tight I am around even this single digit.
“You’re gripping my finger so hard, doe. I can’t wait to feel you squeeze my cock like this.”
“More. Please more.”
He adds a second finger, and the stretch makes me gasp. It burns slightly, but then he curls them in a way that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. He’s found something inside me, a spot that sends electricity shooting through my entire body.
“There it is,” he says with satisfaction. “Your G-spot. Feel how good that is?” He strokes it again, and I nearly come apart. “I’m going to make you come so hard.”
His fingers pump in and out of me, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room. I can hear how soaked I am, can feel my arousal coating his fingers, dripping down to the sheets.
His mouth returns to where I need it most, and the dual sensation is overwhelming.
“That’s it,” he murmurs between strokes of his tongue and thrusts of his fingers. “Let me feel you getting close.”
I’m climbing so close to the edge I can taste it. And then he stops.
I could cry from frustration. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
