“Off,” I tell him, tugging at the waistband. He lifts his hips and I pull them down and his cock springs free, thick and flushed and straining. The sight of him makes my pussy clench around nothing.
“Hang on,” he chokes out. He leans back over the side of the bed, finds his pants on the floor. The tear of foil. I watch his hand roll the condom down his length, and even that—even just watching him touch himself—makes me press my thighs tighter against his hips.
I shift above him and hesitate for just a second, because I’ve never been here before, never had him like this. His hands find my hips. Not pushing. Just steadying.
“Nice and slow,” he murmurs. “Take your time.”
I reach between us and wrap my hand around his cock. Guide him to my entrance. Sink down.
The stretch is slow and full and so intense after a month apart that my thighs tremble and my breath comes out in a sharp, broken sound.
His fingers tighten on my hips, guiding just enough to help me find the angle, and when I take all of him, his head tips back into the pillow, the muscles in his neck pulled tight.
“Fuck.” His voice is wrecked. “Fuck, Nat.”
I set the pace. Rolling my hips in a rhythm that lets me feel every inch of him. Slow. Deep. The stretch of him. The drag of him.The way his body gives under mine and then tenses again like he’s barely holding himself still.
His hands loosen. He lets me take.
And God, I need to take. For these few minutes, I am not being watched or maneuvered or handled. I am only wanted.
Luca watches me move above him, his eyes dark and fixed on my face like looking away isn’t an option. His lips part. His stomach muscles tighten. I can feel his restraint fraying under my palms.
I lean down and kiss him, still moving. His hand slides up my spine and into my hair. His hips roll up to meet mine and the angle shifts and he’s deeper now, the tip of his cock hitting a spot that sends heat flooding down to my toes. Pleasure shoots through me so fast it leaves me breathless.
“Right there,” I whisper, and I feel him grin against my lips.
He does it again. Slower this time. Deliberate. Like he’s learning me all over again in real time. Like he could map every place I come apart and remember it forever.
He grinds up into me once more, and I lose the rhythm for a second. My hands flatten on his chest. His heart is pounding as hard as mine. There’s something almost unbearable about that, too. The proof of what I do to him.
“Tell me how it feels.” His voice slides over my skin, dark and smooth.
“So good.” My breath is coming in short, sharp pulls. “You feel so good.”
His fingers fist in my hair then, just enough to sting. His hips drive up harder and the moan that tears out of me is loud enough that a sane woman would be embarrassed.
I’m not sane right now.
I grind down onto him, chasing the pressure building between my legs, and every roll of my hips gives me friction exactly where I need it. My whole body is narrowing around the feeling. The hotel room, Vegas, my father, all of it falls away piece by piece until there’s nothing left but Luca under me and the unbearable climb of pleasure.
“More,” I gasp.
That’s when he slows.
Just for a second. His eyes find mine. My name on his lips, barely a breath, almost a question.
I grab his face with both hands. “Don’t be careful with me. Not today.”
A feral look crosses his face.
He flips me onto my back so fast the room tilts.
My breath leaves in a startled cry, half laugh, half gasp. Then he’s there between my thighs. My legs lock around him on instinct, and when he drives into me again the angle is so deep, so ruthless, that any coherent thought still in my head is gone.
He braces one hand against the headboard. The other grips my thigh and holds me open for him, and each thrust pushes me higher up the mattress. I can feel the strength he was holding back now. Feel what he could do if I let him. If I asked.
The knowledge should scare me.
