His other hand slid up my body, pushing aside the neckline of my dress, finding my nipple. He rolled it between his fingers, pinching, pulling, and I sobbed with pleasure.
I looked down.
The sight of him—Lorenzo Falcone on his knees, my leg hooked over his shoulder, his face buried between my thighs, his lips glistening with my arousal—broke something in me. Thispowerful, dangerous man, utterly devoted to my pleasure. He looked up at me, his eyes locking with mine, and he didn’t stop. He didn’t slow down. He held my gaze as his tongue circled my clit, as his fingers fucked me deeper, as he drove me toward the edge.
“I’m going to come,” I warned, my voice ragged. “Lorenzo, I’m going to?—”
He doubled down.
His mouth clamped over my clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking in rapid, merciless strokes. His fingers curled, hitting that spot inside me again and again, and I shattered.
My orgasm crashed through me like a wave, violent and consuming. I screamed his name, my body convulsing, my hips grinding against his face as I rode out the pleasure. He didn’t pull away. He stayed, drinking me in, lapping at my release like it was the finest wine, his fingers slowing but not stopping until I was trembling, oversensitive, collapsing against the seat behind me.
Through the haze, I looked down and watched him take every drop of me, his eyes never leaving mine.
He pulled back slowly, licking his lips, his chin slick with me.
“Deliziosa,” he said, his voice thick.
Still floating, I slumped in the leather seat, leg sliding off his shoulder. Chest heaving, dress bunched at my waist, skin flushed, glistening.
He rose to his feet, towering over me, his cock straining against his trousers. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear with a soft kiss.
“That’s a good husband.” My voice came out husky, dripping with satisfaction. “Now you can fuck me.”
He didn’t wait—I was over his shoulder as he carried me down the narrow aisle. Laughing and breathless, my handsgripping his back as he pushed open a door at the rear of the plane, opening to a small cabin.
Lying on my back, I took in Lorenzo, now standing shirtless in front of me. The man was art. Every muscle defined, every scar a story. I’d mapped his body with my hands a dozen times, and I still couldn’t get enough.
He reached for his pants, and I sat up.
“Let me.”
My fingers fumbled his belt before pushing his pants down, allowing his cock to spring free, already hard and eager. I didn’t hesitate. I leaned forward and licked a stripe from the base to the tip.
His breath hitched.
I took him in my mouth, wrapping my lips around the head, savoring the weight of him on my tongue. I licked my way down to his balls, massaging them gently, and back up.
I started to suck him in earnest, taking him deeper. My hand wrapped around the base, stroking in rhythm with my mouth. Savoring the bite of his fingers tangled in my hair, pulling, guiding. He wanted me to deep throat, and I wanted to give it to him.
I relaxed my throat and took him all the way down.
“Cazzo—Zara?—”
His moaning my name was my favorite sound. I doubled down, my head bobbing, my hand working. I felt his pulse against my tongue, knew he was close.
He didn’t warn me. He just came, hot and thick, flooding my mouth. And I took it all. Every drop. Swallowing like it was the best drink I’d ever had.
Before I pulled back, I wiped my lip with the back of my hand.
“Mr. Falcone, we’ve begun our descent. Please take your seats for landing.”
I froze. Lorenzo’s eyes closed, his jaw tight. A sound of pure frustration rumbled from his chest.
“This is not over,” he said, his voice strained.
I laughed, sinking into the pillows. “Now you have to wait, Mr. Falcone. How tragic.”
