I lean forward, my tongue darting out to lick the head of his cock every time it emerges from my cleavage. He groans, his hands bracing against the wall on either side of my head as his hips fuck faster into the slick channel of my breasts.
I keep licking him, tasting the salty pre-come that leaks from the tip, and I can feel him getting closer. His body is taut, the muscles in his stomach clenched, and a fine sheen of sweat coats his skin.
"You have no idea how good that feels,sporcacciona," he rasps. "No idea."
I have no idea what that means, but it makes me feel dirty, sexy, and adored all at once.
I love it.
He’s panting, the rhythm of his hips becoming erratic. I can feel him getting closer.
I press my breasts tighter around him, increasing the friction, and he cries out, a raw, ragged sound.
"God, Elsa," he gasps. "I'm going to come."
"Do it," I command seductively. "Come for me, Antonio. All over me."
With a final, guttural groan, he does.
Hot, thick streams of cum paint my chest, my neck. And my face—my chin, my lips, my cheeks, and into my open mouth, where I try to catch what I can, savoring the taste of him.
It's filthy.
It's decadent.
It's perfect.
I keep my breasts pressed around him as he rides out his orgasm, his body shuddering, his eyes locked on me, watching me wear his mark. When he's finally spent, he leans against the wall above me on his forearms, breathing heavily.
I lean forward and wrap my lips around the head of his cock one last time. I lick him clean, and he shudders, a full-body tremor.
When I'm done, I look up at him, a smug, satisfied smile on my face.
I use my fingers to scoop up the cum on my chin, then bring them to my lips and lick them clean, my eyes locked on his the entire time, savoring the taste of the raw, masculine flavor that is purely Antonio. I feel like a wanton hussy.
I expect him to smile, to make a joke, something to break the spell of raw lust that’s engulfed us.
Instead, he looks at me with an expression that is so intense it makes my breath catch. His eyes are dark, fathomless pools of desire, and there's something else there too, something that looks a lot like awe.
"You are..."
He doesn't finish the sentence. He just shakes his head, a slow, disbelieving motion.
He sinks to his knees in front of me, the water still streaming over us, washing away the remnants of his pleasure from my face since the shield of his body standing over me is no longer there.
He cups my face in his hands, but doesn't say anything.
He just looks at me, and the look in his eyes is so much more than lust. It's reverence. It's adoration. It's… everything.
Then he leans in and kisses me.
It's not a hard, demanding kiss. It's not a soft, sweet kiss. It's a kiss that's full of all the things we haven't said, all the things it's too soon for me to say.
It's a kiss that says,You are mine.
And I kiss him back with everything I have, because the truth is, I've been his from the moment I laid eyes on him.
The kiss deepens, a slow, languid exploration that's intimate and heartbreaking.
