I kick off the boots, which thankfully I’d pulled on barefoot because I don’t think I have the co-ordination to remove socks as well.
When I glance up again, Augusto is standing at the end of the bed wearing nothing but a tight black pair of boxers. And fuck the fabric, I can seeeverything. And I can’t stop staring at it.
Like, what? Why? How is that fair to other men?
I try to do a quick calculation of when I last had sex. It was… oh God… a really long time ago. A year? Two?
I swallow. I don’t think vaginas are like ear piercings that heal over if they’re not penetrated by a stud every so often. Pun absolutely intended. But, still.
Then I remember I pushed out an eight pound baby fourteen years ago. I’m thinking I might be okay.
I go to remove the shirt but he barks out another order.
“Leave it on.” His voice drops to a husky rumble. “I like the sentiment…”
The slogan hits different now that I know who he is.
“…and I want to unwrap you.”
I flush deeply and rest back on my elbows, thankful the shirt is covering my modesty, because even though I feel crazy for this man, I don’t know what to do.
Usually, I’m between the sheets, wearing a satin negligee with clean teeth and a freshly moisturized face. But here, I have half a night’s-worth of breath on me, mud on my hands, and a ten-year-old shirt, and I have a feeling if I try to put a sheet between us I’m going to get spanked.
“On your front,” he orders.
Oh crap.Looks like I may get spanked anyways.
I do as he says, expecting at least some pacing between movements but no sooner am I laid on my belly than he’s grabbing my ankles and pulling me down the bed. I feel his weight settle on either side of my bare thighs, then his rough hands on the undercurve of my ass.
I gasp in a breath at the contact. He’s barely touched me and is already handling me rougher than I’ve ever been handled before.
Calloused palms and fingers scratch delectably over my skin as the shirt is pushed over my bottom, past my waist and up my back.
He groans like he’s in pain, then mutters something filthy-sounding in Italian before lowering his heavy body and gnashing his teeth into my ass.
He bites me, hard, growling like a wild animal. It’s all I can do to grip the comforter in my fists and bury my face in the material. When he unlatches, he licks around the bite mark before sinking his teeth into the other cheek.
My heart pounds.
I am literally being eaten alive.
It hurts, it stings, but it sizzles with something volcanic.
Then I feel the flat of his tongue, hot and wet, licking a trail up my spine. The tip of his tongue dips into each ridge and circles the muscles all the way up my back until I’m almost hyperventilating with desire.
Then the side of my face warms as he nuzzles into my neck. Soft moans seep through his lips, whispering into my hair, and his rough stubble grazes against my cheek. Slowly lowering himself, he presses me into the bed with his full body weight. His dick lies long, thick and hard between my ass cheeks, throbbing softly.
“You are the most stunning woman I’ve ever met,” he rasps. “Brazenlybeautiful.”
A sigh leaves my chest as I swim through his words, my head spinning up to the clouds.
“Tell me what you like, so I can give it to you the best you’ve ever had it.”
My lids ping and the reality of my closeted sexual history barrels toward me with a bundle of humiliation powering it on. “I—I don’t know what I like.”
He stills on top of me, his cock still pumping gently between our bodies. “You don’t know?”
I shake my head, burying my face in shame.
