He slides one hand up my back to tangle in my hair.Then he angles my head for deeper access.
When I reluctantly grant it, he presses his free hand against my lower back, grinding me against his thick cock.
The hardness digs into me, hot and unyielding, each subtle thrust of his hips sending friction straight through me.
God.
I moan into his mouth, the sound muffled, involuntary, and it spurs him on.
His kiss turns fiercer, and his teeth nip at my lower lip.The sting is sharp and thrilling, blending pain with pleasure in a way that makes my head spin.
What is it about him?
A dozen sensations overwhelm me… The rough scrape of his stubble against my chin, abrading my skin in a delicious burn.The way his body heat envelops me, making sweat prickle along my spine.
Helplessly I clutch his shirt, twisting my fingers in the fabric, pulling him closer.
An orgasm begins to unfurl inside me, even as my mind screams at me to stop.
But I’m drowning in my own reactions.
Desperate desire claws at me, making me rock my hips against him, seeking more of that heated friction.
He continues to give me what I crave until I’m breathless.
Even though my lungs burn for air, I’m unwilling to break away.
My nipples ache now as they rub against his chest.
The world narrows until nothing exists but us.
The way he tugs my hair with the right amount of force to send sparks down my scalp and the way he grinds against me promises the relief that I need.
Finally he pulls back.
His chest is heaving as much as mine, and damn him to hell, his eyes blaze with triumph.
Suddenly my lips feel bruised, and so do I.
I draw in huge gulps of air as sanity crashes back.
Releasing him, I drop my hands.
My emotions are a mass of confusion, arousal, resentment—all tangled in a knot that tightens with every heartbeat.
“Oh, you definitely wanted it, Valentina.”
“Fuck you, Moretti.”This time I don’t just mouth the words.
A bastard through and through, he grins.“Want me to prove it to you again?”
I put as much distance between us as possible, until my shoulders hit a wall.
But I needn’t have bothered.
With predatory grace, he strides to the door.
Hand on the knob, he looks back at me.“Be ready to leave at ten.”
