“Fuck no,” she breathes.
I can’t stop my laugh this time.
Doubt flashes across her face. “Are…are you not into it?” She tries to sit up. “Dammit, what the hell was I thinking?”
I take her hand while I straighten and place it over the raging hard-on tenting my pants. “Does this feel like I’m not into it?”
“Cristo,” she breathes, momentarily slipping into Italian. “That feels unbelievably large.” Her gaze lifts from staring at my crotch, a bit panicked. “Is it supposed to be that big?”
“My queen will learn to take every inch of her king.”
She melts back, a soft, dreamy look in her eye. “I like it when you talk like that. Dominant but tender…and dirty.”
I run my knuckles up her stomach and back down.
She catches my hand. “I’m not ready for sex,” she whispers. “But I’m ready for something.”
Guiding my hand, she slips it back into her sweats and underneath her lace panties, while bending her knees and letting them fall.
“My perfect queen,” I groan as my fingers touch her slick core. Before I have a chance to explore her, to get her used to my touching the most intimate part of her body, she lifts her hips and guides my finger inside her.
Her taking control of her pleasure, owning it, is sexy as hell, and eroding my threadbare control.
Her eyes widen in shock as pleasure coats her face. “Your finger feels so much better than mine.”
I sink deeper into her, groaning again at how amazing she feels. So slick, silky, and unbelievably tight as she clenches around my finger. “Have you been touching yourself, fucking yourself”—she releases a guttural moan at that—“and making yourself come?”
“Yes.” Her hips buck as I find a slow rhythm, moving in and out of her. “I’ve been thinking of you. Only you.”
“That’s a good girl.” She clenches hard around me. “My good fucking girl.”
“Tommaso,” she gasps as I thrust into her harder. “Tommaso.”
“Say my name, Gina. Sing it, scream it while I make you come all over my finger. You’re soaking my hand, my perfect girl.”
Her hips lift in an instinctual rhythm to my thrusts as I explore what she loves and what takes her higher.
Her head twists as she writhes under my touch. When I finally give her clit the attention the swollen bud needs, her back arches, and I know she’s on the cliff.
Her inner walls quiver and clench as she curses in nearly incoherent Italian. Then she’s crying and screaming my name, uninhibited, as she completely unravels under my touch.
She doesn’t know it yet, but if her fate wasn’t sealed before, it most certainly fucking is now.
Chapter 12
Gina
Iwakeupinmy bed the next morning and stretch like a content, lazy cat, complete with a smug smile like I just stole forbidden cream.
I mean, I would’ve loved to steal Tommaso’sforbidden creamlast night, but he didn’t take his pleasure. He wouldn’t actually let me touch him below the waist—outside of him placing my hand over his erection when my self-doubt pushed in.
After he had given me that mind-shattering orgasm—onesomuch better than any I’ve given myself—I caught him taking my picture before we snuggled, talking quietly and listening to the ocean. He answered any question I dared to ask him, so in turn, I did the same.
I opened up about how dreadful going to Santa Elisabetta had been, how horrid most of the girls were, except for Alessia and Mia. How I secretly loved elegant clothing but hid it so I wouldn’t reinforce the image my parents were forcing on me.
He asked me about my desire for a future family. I openly admitted that I want the kind of close-knit, loving family Iused to have as a young girl, that I’ve always dreamed of being a mother, and that I don’t want to wait long to start having children
He teasingly questioned me about my desire to see and experience the world, and how I would do that with a baby? I punched his arm with a smile and said, “Bugger off, this is my fantasy world I’m creating.”
