I wantmore.
I yank the skirt of her dress up, one less layer between us. Her panties are damp with arousal. She moans as I trap her hips with mine, rocking against her, kissing her with all the need that’s been building in me all night. All week. All month.
What seems like forever.
Her hands roam my body again, running her fingers down my back, my shoulders, my arms. When she starts toward my torso, I instinctively pull back and stiffen.
She freezes, her lips still on mine, breathing hard.
"What is it?" she whispers.
“Nothing,” I say, and then I kiss her again, trying to erase that little hesitation with a new, more aggressive kiss. Trying to make her forget.
I slide my hand up her thigh and deftly into her panties. She gasps into my mouth as my fingers find her clit. Her head falls back against the door with a thud, baring her throat. I don't waste a second and kiss the column of her neck, then drag my tongue up to her earlobe, gently nibbling on it.
"Antonio," she moans as I rub her clit in slow circles.
She moans again, and the sound goes straight to my dick. Her hips rock against my fingers. I can feel how close she is.
“You like that, amore mio?” I whisper in her ear.
Heranswer is a gasp. “Yes.”
I increase the pressure, rub faster, feel her body start to tighten. Her breath comes in short, sharp pants. Her fingers dig into my shoulders.
"Come for me," I whisper, my voice hoarse. "Let me feel it."
She pulls me in for a kiss, moaning into my mouth as I continue to work her clit, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her hips buck against my fingers, her whole body tensing as the pleasure builds. She’s so close.
Then she shatters.
A gasp tears from her throat, her body convulses, and I feel her pulse against my fingers. I keep up the rhythm, drawing out her orgasm, until she collapses against me, limp and breathing hard.
I hold her for a moment, letting her catch her breath. It's brief because it's not long before she's moving again, running her hands over my body, tugging my shirt from my pants.
I steel myself as her hands run over me, and she feels it again, the stiffening of my body.
She pulls back with a frown. "Antonio, what's wrong?"
“Nothing,” I say again. “Nothing is wrong.” Then I push away from her and start to walk to the bed. "I want you."
"That's not in question," she says. "But something is."
"it's not a big deal." I drop down on the end of the bed.
"Then tell me what it is," she says.
I watchher walking toward me. Her dress is askew, her hair is a mess. Her lipstick has been fully wiped off after all the kissing, and I was right, she looks way better without it.
I want to eat her alive.
Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes, still that brilliant blue, are dark with desire. She’s a walking, talking fantasy, and the only thing I want to do is fuck her. I want to bury myself so deep inside her that she forgets everything else. But I can't. Not like this.
I let out a sigh. "I had an accident a few months ago."
She frowns, making those lush lips look pouty, and somehow even sexier. "What kind of an accident?"
"Well, it wasn't exactly an accident." I look toward the window. "It's more like... I was... shot."
