He takes his time with my neck. Kissing, licking, biting softly at the tendons, sucking at the spot below my ear until I'm panting. His stubble scrapes against my skin, rough enough to sting, and the contrast between that and the wet heat of his mouth makes me whimper.
Then his mouth moves lower.
He kisses between my breasts, his breath hot against my sternum. His hand slides up and cups me, thumb circling my nipple in slow, maddening loops. Once. Twice. Three times before he finally closes his mouth over it, tongue flicking, teeth grazing, and the sound I make is embarrassing. Loud and broken and desperate.
He doesn't stop. He works one breast with his mouth and the other with his hand, switching, alternating, until both nipples are stiff and aching and every nerve in my body is wired to the two points where he's touching me. My hips buck against his thigh and he lets me, this once, lets me grind against the hard muscle of his leg while his mouth does devastating things to my chest.
"Please," I gasp. "Leone, please."
"Please what?"
"Touch me."
"I am touching you."
"Lower."
He lifts his head. His eyes are black, pupils swallowing the iris, and his lips are swollen and slick. He looks wrecked. He looks like he wants to devour me whole and is exercising every ounce of control he has to do it slowly.
"Ask me properly," he says.
The command sends a pulse of heat between my legs so strong I nearly come from the sound of his voice alone. I swallow hard. "Please touch me. Lower. I need..."
"Need what?"
"I need your hands on me. I need you inside me. I need you to stop teasing me before I lose my fucking mind."
There’s a shift in his expression. The control wavers. His eyes narrow, and I see the exact moment he decides to stop being patient.
His hand slides down my stomach, over the black cotton of my underwear, and presses flat between my legs. The heel of hispalm grinds against me through the fabric, and my entire body jolts. He feels how wet I am. I know he does because his breath catches, short and sharp, and his fingers press harder, rubbing slow circles through cotton that's already soaked.
"Christ," he mutters against my hip. "You're drenched."
I can't respond. My brain has left the building. His fingers hook into the waistband and pull, sliding the underwear down my legs with excruciating slowness, his mouth following the trail, pressing kisses along my hip, my inner thigh, the sensitive crease where leg meets body. Every kiss is an inch closer to where I'm throbbing, aching, dying for contact.
He settles between my thighs. Shoulders pushing my legs apart. His breath hits me, hot and close, and I fist the sheets so hard my knuckles crack.
"Look at me," he says.
I force my eyes open. He's watching me from between my legs, dark eyes burning, his mouth inches from where I need him most. The visual alone nearly undoes me.
He holds my gaze and lowers his mouth to me.
The first stroke of his tongue is slow. Flat and broad, dragging through my center from bottom to top, and the sound that tears out of me is feral. My hands fly to his hair, gripping, pulling, and he growls against me. The vibration shoots through my core like lightning.
He eats me like he's starving. Long, slow licks that turn short and focused, his tongue circling my clit with relentless precision. He slides two fingers inside me, curving them upward, finding the spot that makes my vision blur, and works me with his mouth and his hand in tandem.
I'm shaking. My thighs tremble against his shoulders. My stomach clenches and releases in waves. He doesn't let up. Doesn't slow down. keeps that punishing rhythm, tongue and fingers moving in concert, building me higher and higher until the pressure in my belly is unbearable.
"Leone, I'm going to..."
He sucks my clit into his mouth, hard, and crooks his fingers, and I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me like a current. My back bows off the bed, my hands clench in his hair, and I cry out, his name and profanity and sounds that aren't words at all. He keeps going. Licking me through it, drawing it out, his fingers still moving inside me while my body convulses around him.
When the aftershocks finally fade, I collapse into the sheets, boneless, gasping. He kisses the inside of my thigh, soft, almost tender, then rises over me, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"We're not done," he says.
