Having seen all but her nipples, I already know how endowed she is. Not obscenely or artificially. I wouldn’t care if they were. My mouth’s practically watering to taste them since they’re at eye level.
“How about we play a little game,chiquita?”
“A game only you can win?”
“No. You can definitely win some rounds if you play nicely.”
She cocks an eyebrow.
“For each piece of information you give me, I get to take off a piece of your clothes. I’ll also get you another step closer to coming. We both win when you play along.”
“And if I lie just to make you make me come?”
“I’ll know you’re lying, and I’ll punish you. Not only will I edge you until you cry, I’ll spank you until your ass burns like a five-alarm fire.”
“Promise?”
She licks her lips and rolls her hips. Before she can anticipate it, I release her ass and bring my hand crashing down across the center of it. She yelps and jerks forward, moaning as her clit rubs against the seam of her jeans and my dick. Her breast comes to my mouth, and I snap my teeth next to her nipple with a growl.
I sound fucking feral.
You practically are.
Her hands remain behind her back, using her core strength and thighs to hold her up as her back curls toward me. I lick her nipple through her clothes.
“You ready for the rest of the rules, little one?”
She nods.
She has no words, and I’m fighting to find mine.
“When you agree to abandon the hit and help me kill your boss, I’ll fuck your tight little cunt all afternoon and through tonight. Then my breakfast will be peaches and cream.”
“Stronzo arrogante.” Arrogant asshole.
“So, you’re Venetian. Good to know.”
I unfasten her bra with one hand before trailing my fingers around to beneath her breast. I crawl them up the front until my thumb’s on her tightened nipple.
“Why do you?—”
“Dropped consonants and those unique vowel sounds, almost singsongy. All characteristically Venetian.”
“That could be one of my many personas.”
“But it’s not. You muttered it too naturally. Even if Italian were your second language from childhood, it still wouldn’t have sounded that natural. It’s the language you think in.”
“Trained linguist?”
“Close study of human nature.” I shrug. “I’m observant.”
“You’re a native New York Spanish speaker. You grew up using English and Spanish interchangeably, but you don’t have quite the same Colombian accents as your relatives who grew up there.”
“Should I be jealous of how much time you’ve spent studying my uncles and cousins? Don’t tell me you’re after mypapá.”
“You look more like Enrique.”
“And I’m certain you already know mytíaElodie. You know how unwise that mistake would be.”
