"Beautiful." His voice is hoarse. "Fucking beautiful."
I hear the creak of his wheelchair, then feel his hand on my lower back, stroking gently.
"Turn over."
My limbs feel like water, but I manage to roll onto my back. Bruno sits at the edge of the bed, his mouth wet, his eyes dark with hunger. The bulge in his pants makes his arousal obvious.
"Come here." He pats his lap.
I push myself up on shaky arms. I slide off the bed and move toward him, my legs still trembling from the orgasm. Bruno's hands find my hips the moment I'm within reach, guiding me onto his lap.
I straddle him in the wheelchair, my knees on either side of his thighs. The position puts us face to face, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in his dark eyes.
I free him from his pants, wrapping my hand around his length. He's hard and hot, already leaking at the tip.
"Antonella." My name comes out like a warning.
"What?" I stroke him slowly, watching his face. "You made me wait too."
His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise. "I'm not going to last."
"Good."
I slide off his lap and sink to my knees between his legs.
"Antonella." His voice is strained. "You don't have to?—"
"I want to." I look up at him through my lashes. "I've been thinking about this all day."
His jaw clenches. "All day?"
"During the party." I wrap my hand around his base, feeling him pulse against my palm. "While you were cutting the cake. While Lily was making you wear that ridiculous hat."
"Fuck." The word comes out rough.
I lean forward and drag my tongue along his length, base to tip. The taste of him spreads across my tongue.
"You were thinking about this?" His voice is barely controlled. "With my entire family in the room?"
"Yes." I circle the head with my tongue, collecting the moisture beading there. "Couldn't stop."
His hand moves to my hair, fingers threading through the strands. Not pushing. Just holding. Like he needs something to anchor himself.
I take him into my mouth slowly, letting my lips stretch around his girth. Bruno groans, his head falling back against the wheelchair. The sound sends heat pooling low in my belly.
"Your mouth." He's panting now. "Jesus Christ, your mouth."
I take him deeper, relaxing my throat the way I've learned he likes. His hips jerk involuntarily, pushing him further into my mouth. I gag slightly but don't pull back.
His eyes snap to mine, dark and burning. "You like when I fuck your throat?"
"Yes."
"Then take it."
I open my mouth and let him set the pace. He pushes into my throat, shallow thrusts that make my eyes water. I breathe through my nose and focus on the sounds he's making—low groans and muttered curses that tell me exactly how close he is.
"Look at you." His voice is wrecked. "On your knees for me. Taking everything I give you."
