“I want you to touch me,” I say, the words tearing from my throat. “All of me. Everywhere. Make me yours, Roberto."
The words are raw and honest, a vulnerability I’m not sure I’ve ever shown another person.
But it’s the truth.
I want to be his.
"Take your panties off." He murmurs the order against the skin of my neck. "Slowly."
My hands tremble as I obey, hooking my thumbs in the delicate lace and sliding the fabric down my legs. I kick them aside, standing before him in nothing but my heels, feeling more exposed and more powerful than I have in my entire life.
"Watch," he says, then slides a finger inside me. A full-throated moan escapes my lips, and I reach behind me to grab onto the back of his neck to keep from falling to my knees. He starts a slow, steady rhythm, in and out, a tantalizing preview of what’s to come.
My body is a taut bowstring, every nerve ending singing with pleasure. I'm so close, so close to the edge, but he's holding me there, suspended in a state of exquisite agony.
"Roberto, please," I beg, my hips moving in tandem with his hand. "I need..."
"I know what you need, Olivia," he says, his breath hot against my ear. He adds a second finger, stretching me, filling me, and the added pressure is almost enough to send me over the edge. But still, he holds me back.
I watch, fascinated as his fingers disappear into my pussy then slide out, coated in my arousal. He pulls his hand away from me, and I make a sound of protest.
But he's not denying me. He's just changing the rules. He brings his glistening fingers to his lips and tastes.
He groans, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through me.
It’s an intimate act, more intimate than anything I’ve ever done, and it sends a fresh jolt of arousal straight to my core.
He pulls me back against him, my back flush with his chest, my ass nestled against his erection.
"Look at how beautiful you are when you're turned on," he says, one arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me even closer. His other hand goes back to my pussy, but this time, he doesn't tease.
This time, he’s giving me exactly what I want.
His fingers find my clit again, and he starts to rub, a firm, insistent circle that has my hips bucking against him.
"That's it," he coaxes, his voice a low, hypnotic murmur. "Let go, Olivia. Give it to me."
I cry out and grip his arm as my body goes taut.
"Watch yourself come, Olivia," he says, voice rough against my ear. "Look how gorgeous you are when you come."
But he doesn't have to because my eyes are locked on us. The way his fingers work my clit, and my face contorts in pleasure. At my body arching against him. At the possessive look on his face, as if he owns my pleasure.
And then I'm flying.
The world goes white, and my ears ring, drowning everything else out. My body convulses, waves of pleasure crashing over me, so intense, so overwhelming, I feel like I'm breaking apart.
He holds me through it, his arm around my waist, steadying me, taking my weight.
He doesn't stop, his fingers continuing to work their magic, drawing out my pleasure, until I'm a boneless, trembling mess, completely and utterly spent.
I slump against him, my body limp, my mind a blissful blank.
He holds me for a long moment, letting me catch my breath, letting me come back to myself.
Then he scoops me up in his arms, one arm under my knees, the other around my back.
I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest, breathing in his clean, masculine scent. I’m too exhausted to be embarrassed by being carried like this.
