His mouth found her nipple, sucking it hard as he slowly pulled out an inch or two before pulsing back in. ‘What about that?’ he muttered, hot air puffing against the wet tortured tip.
Peyton bit her lip as the fuse caught. ‘Really good.’
So he did it again and again, barely thrusting at all, his tongue mimicking the torture of the deep slow thrusts. Peyton whimpered at the sensation, stabbing her fingers into his hair, grasping a fistful and pinning his mouth to her breast as her hips moved of their own volition, sliding down as he thrust up.
His groan vibrated against her nipple as their bodies found their rhythm, one of his hands sliding to her ass, pressing her closer, the other up her back to cup her nape, his fingers furrowing into her hair. His lips moved north, to her collarbone, the hollow at the base of her throat, the thick wild beat of her carotid pulse.
They were barely moving at all but their slow pulsations created a wonderfully erotic friction that was all consuming – tantric almost – building the tension in Peyton’s belly to screaming point. When the broad swathe of muscles in his shoulders started to tremble beneath her palms, she whimpered at the corresponding quiver of her own muscles. The climax that had been on a slow burn suddenly ignited to full throttle.
Peyton gasped out loud as it hit. ‘Valentino,’ she cried, bucking in his arms, throwing her head back at its impact.
‘Yes,’ he groaned, his hand sliding to her shoulder, anchoring her closer still.‘Quello è ritiene così buon.’
With their joined bodies slick with heat and sweat, Peyton had no idea what he’d just said and neither did she care as they rocked and panted and went to another place entirely where it felt good and right and there was only his name on her lips and only they existed. Where pleasure was the only purpose.
And the consequences be damned.
8
Valentino had no idea how long it took for them to bump back down to earth. It was a slow realisation. A creeping awareness of the jut of her hips in his palms, the weight of her head against his shoulder, the slight brush of her lips against his collarbone as their breathing returned to normal.
He liked it here, like this, sexual malaise injecting lead into his bones, their bodies still intimately joined, his cock still semi-hard. He liked the feel of her draped against him. Liked how the breadth of his body cushioned the slightness of hers.
There was nothing friend-like about this intimacy. About the perfection of their fit. Had he ever just instantlyfitwith another woman? Like the other half of a whole. The thought had him squeezing her hip involuntarily and she stirred, lifting her head like it weighed a tonne.
She looked thoroughly sated – her movements chill, her pixie hair a little wild from the ruffle of his fingers – and Valentino’s body stirred again. She smiled at him with dreamy, silvery-grey eyes, desire sparkling dewy as cobwebs for a beat or two before they started to clear and sharpen and that beatific smile slowly but surely faded.
Sighing heavily, she pressed her forehead to his shoulder before she eventually lifted it again. ‘Hey,’ she said, her voice sheepish, the colour in her cheeks not entirely from exertion any more.
‘Hey.’
Valentino wasn’t sure what else he should say. He knew what he wanted to say – to suggest. Todo. He wanted to pick her up as she was, naked and still joined to him, find her room and do that over and over again.
But he could tell from the look in her eyes, the distance he could see gathering in the grey bedrock of her gaze, that she did not want him doing anything of the sort.
‘I’m going to…’
She gestured airily and Valentino nodded. She wanted up. Removing his hands from her body, he sat passively as she lifted from him, suppressing the groan as his dick slid free, satisfied to hear her corresponding whimper before she pushed to her feet. Satisfied, too, that she didn’t move immediately away.Couldn’t. Her fingers lightly touching down on his knee as her body swayed a little, her legs clearly not yet able to support her.
Yeah –he’ddone that.
Her fingers were gone just as swiftly though and he had no time to admire her nakedness as she collected her clothes strewn on the floor around them and scurried off, disappearing through the kitchen.
Valentino’s head dropped back against the couch as he pushed a trembling hand through his hair. His pulse which had recovered from the physicality of his climax was thumping again, not fast but just as hard.
Now what? Was he supposed to leave? Were they not going to talk? Or would this be something theynevertalked about given how it had incinerated their pact to be friends?
A voice inside his head whisperedget upand, in the absence of any other direction forthcoming, Valentino stirred himself to do just that, tucking his dick away as he stood.
His gaze fell on a framed photo on top of the television he hadn’t seen when he’d visited a few weeks ago due to the placement of the TV in relation to the doors to the deck.
Scooping his shirt off the floor, he put it on before wandering over to the frame and picking it up. It was Peyton with an older couple. Her parents? She was younger – maybe eighteen or nineteen – her figure fuller, rounder. Not exactly curvy but no angles. Her caramel hair was long and she was laughing, her grey eyes lit with an easy humour.
She looked happy and carefree, so different from the wary, defensive woman he’d first met at his cousin’s wedding, and he was jealous – yes,jealous– of anyone who had known her back before life had done a number on Peyton Donald.
Although, hehadseen her today at probably the happiest she’d been since he’d known her – possibly since that photograph had been taken – and that had been something else!
When she’d walked into his office this morning with McKenzie like a deer in headlights, his concern for her had skyrocketed. He knew all about the squall of emotions parents endured during the cochlear implant process – he’d witnessed it with hundreds of his patients, and Peyton had been no different.
