I want him to kiss me, to bite me, to do something, anything, to ease the ache that's building inside me.
But he doesn't.
He just continues to touch me, to explore my body with a focused, almost scientific intensity.
He's learning me. Learning what makes me gasp, what makes me squirm, what makes me moan.
His hands are on my stomach now, tracing the soft curve of it, then lower, to the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.
I whimper, my hips bucking involuntarily.
"Shhh," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. "I'll give you what you want. But not yet."
Finally, finally, he lowers his head, and I feel the heat of his breath on my inner thigh.
I gasp as he kisses me there, a soft, open-mouthed kiss that leaves me aching for more.
He's a master of this, this slow, deliberate torture. He knows exactly how to touch me, how to kiss me, to drive me to the brink of madness.
He kisses a path up my inner thigh, his tongue darting out to taste my skin.
I'm writhing on the bed now, my hips arching up to meet him, but he keeps me pinned with a firm hand on my stomach.
"Roberto, please," I beg, my hands pulling at the tie. "Please."
I’m so aroused, my need for him is a physical ache, a deep, throbbing need that demands to be satisfied.
He chuckles, the sound a low, dirty laugh that sends a shiver down my spine.
But he doesn't give me what I want. He just continues his way up my body with his mouth, perusing me in the same way his eyes, then his hands, did.
My head is thrashing against the pillows now, my hands fisted above my head, pulling against the silk that binds me.
He's driving me insane, and I love it.
I love the way he's completely in control, the way he's playing my body like an instrument, the way he's making me feel things I've never felt before.
He finally reaches my breasts, and I cry out as he takes one aching nipple into his hot, wet mouth.
He sucks, hard, and I arch my back, pushing myself deeper into his mouth, a strangled cry escaping my lips.
He gives the same attention to the other one, teasing me with his tongue and teeth until I'm a mindless, writhing mess.
I'm so close, so close to the edge, but he's still holding me back, still denying me the release I so desperately crave.
"Roberto," I beg, my voice a ragged sob. "Please, I need..."
"Shh," he says, soothing me. The action sends tingles over my skin. I'm so hypersensitive at this point that I cry out.
He looks at me, the heat in his eyes intensifying, a look of pure, unadulterated lust.
Roberto presses his body, still fully clothed, against me.
The rough fabric of his suit abrades my skin, a delicious friction that has me arching against him.
I can feel the hard, hot length of him against my thigh, a promise of what's to come.
I want to feel him inside me, stretching me, filling me, until there's nothing left of me but him.
