The fever raced through my blood as he continued, “Cristu, I can’t stop thinking about you sleeping with my cum inside you.Making your inner thighs slick. I want to plug it in so it can’t ever leave you. So you’ll always hold a part of me inside?—”
I came with an explosive cry, shattering around him as he carried on talking me off. God, he drove me crazy. So crazy.
As my climax broke me, his tone changed, deepened,darkened. “Oh,bedda mia,that’s my good girl. You’re so fucking beautiful. So perfect.”
On and on he went, talking dirty in the best way. Making my orgasm crest but coast—endlessly teasing me as my pussy clutched at him, never wanting this to stop. Starving for his praise, loving and craving it like I’d never loved or craved anything else in my whole life.
Only when I sagged beneath him did he stop tormenting me, and by that point, he was busy peppering kisses to my bruised throat. “How did you like ‘show and tell?’”
“H-Huh?”
“That was what I wanted to do with you on Martinez’s terrace. But I couldn’t.”
In a daze, I let my forehead settle on the stone balustrade. “I wish you had.”
“I couldn’t control who might be able to see you. Here, it’s my land.” He grunted when my core clenched around him. “You’re mine to protect, Kitty.” His tongue prodded the bite on my throat. “Mine.”
I shuddered, almost hissing at the pain, but I let him tend to me, back to ignoring everything I knew about potentially open wounds and saliva. He’d told me he was clean and I believed him.
Still feeling drugged from that killer orgasm, I muttered drowsily, “You can show me and tell me any day of the week.”
And twice on Sunday.
FORTY-FIVE
KITTY
Playlist recommendation:
Eurydice - Killian Scott
Minutes, hours, days later, he carried me to his quarters because I was still shaky on my feet. Not just from that mind-blowing orgasm but the things we’d said to one another.
He hadn’t brought them up, so I didn’t either.
But then, he was matter-of-fact about this stuff. Whereas I felt like I was in the middle of a lucid dream.
I didn’t even want kids, for fuck’s sake!
As he walked into his bedroom, I accepted that ‘quarters’ fit the bill.
I’d seen four-bedroom apartments smaller than this one massive space, but mostly, it stunned me it wasn’t barren.
A part of me knew that he’d scavenged pieces of furniture from one of the other dozen suites this palatial residence probably contained, but he’d chosen well. A four-poster bed fit for a king, andwhere one or two had undoubtedly slept over the course of its history, sat alongside beautifully preserved antique dressers. A massive walnut desk swallowed up one corner and a screen hummed atop it.
The only other modern things in here were the sofa—a low-slung sectional—and a massive TV complete with stacks of looter shooter games and a humming PlayStation beneath it.
And, be still my ovaries, a concert-size grand piano.
My head lolled on his shoulder. “Know what?”
“What,duci?”
“That piano explains a lot.”
“Like what,bedda mia?”
“Why your fingering game is soooo good.”
