“You’re full of surprises,” he murmurs, his eyes tracking my every movement.
Slowly, I pull the straps down my shoulders, letting the fabric catch momentarily on my breasts before it falls completely, pooling around my feet in a puddle of blue flowers. I stand before him in nothing but the sexy black lingerie set I chose after my shower.
My skin prickles with goosebumps that have nothing to do with the night air. Raffaele’s eyes darken as they travel thelength of my body, lingering on my breasts, the curve of my waist, the swell of my hips.
I unhook the bra and let it fall to the ground before sliding my thumbs beneath the waistband of my panties and pushing them down my legs. When I step out of them, it’s with what I hope appears as confidence rather than the trembling nervousness I actually feel.
He rises in one fluid motion, wasting no time in shrugging off the shirt he never bothered buttoning. His pants follow, then his… oh, no boxer briefs tonight.
Raffaele stands gloriously naked before me, his erection evident and unashamed.
“Beautiful,” he says, and I’m not sure if he means me or the night or the moment itself.
He takes my hand, leading me to the pool steps. The water kisses my ankles, then my calves, then my thighs as we descend together. When I’m submerged to my waist, Raffaele suddenly tugs my hand, pulling me forward until I’m floating, my feet leaving the bottom of the pool.
I gasp at the sensation of weightlessness, of the water caressing every inch of my naked body. Raffaele’s arms encircle me, keeping me afloat as we drift toward the deeper end.
“I’ve got you,” he assures me, his voice low and intimate in the night.
Twisting, I wrap my arms around his neck, our wet skin sliding against each other. The buoyancy of the water makes me feel light and playful. I splash him lightly, laughing at his mock scowl of outrage.
“Dangerous move, Mrs. Brewer-Russo,” he warns, eyes glinting with mischief. Before I can respond, he ducks below the surface, his hands finding my waist and lifting me up so that I rise from the water with a squeal of surprise.
“Put me down,” I laugh.
He emerges a moment later, his hair slicked back, water droplets clinging to his eyelashes. Our playfulness shifts suddenly as his hands slide up my ribs to cup my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until they harden into tight peaks.
“Raffaele,” I breathe, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he walks us backward until my spine meets the cool tile of the pool wall.
“I want to fuck you here,” he growls, his mouth finding the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. “Right now, under the stars.”
His hands are everywhere, touching, exploring, claiming. Underwater, his fingers find the apex of my thighs, circling my nub until my hips buck against him involuntarily.
“Please,” I whimper, digging my nails into his shoulders as pleasure coils tighter within me.
He positions himself against my entrance, the head of his arousal pressing but not entering. “Ask me,” he commands, his voice rough with desire. “Ask me to fill you up.”
I’m trembling now, suspended between the cool wall at my back and his hot skin against my front. “I want…” I falter, old inhibitions surfacing even now.
“Say it,” he insists, his grip on my hips tightening. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you inside me,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
He pushes forward slightly, just enough for me to feel the pressure without giving me what I crave. “Tell me you want my cock, Alina. Not my ‘you know what’ or my ‘thing’ or my ‘penis.’ My cock. Or my dick if that’s better.”
Heat floods my cheeks at his crude language, but there’s something liberating in it too—a permission to want, to name, to claim this pleasure without shame or euphemism.
I swallow hard, gathering my courage. “I want your…” I hesitate, then force myself to say it. “Your dick inside me. Please, Raffaele.”
His answering groan vibrates through his chest and into mine as he finally, finally pushes forward, filling me in one smooth thrust. The water creates a strange sensation, both easing his entry and creating resistance as he begins to move.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he murmurs against my ear, his hips pumping slowly. “Saying what you want, how you want it.”
I can only moan in response as he establishes a rhythm, each thrust pushing me against the pool wall. The contrast of sensations is overwhelming. The cool water lapping around us, the heat of his body inside mine, the hard tile at my back, the softness of his lips as they claim mine in a passionate kiss.
“Harder,” I gasp when he breaks the kiss, surprising us both with my boldness. “Please… fu… take me harder.”
He complies immediately, his movements becoming more forceful, more demanding. One hand grips my hip while the other finds my breast, pinching my nipple with just enough pressure to send sparks of pleasure-pain racing through my body.
