“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice wrecked. “So fucking perfect. You’re already wet for me.”
“Shut up,” I say sharply. “Use your mouth for something else.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. His hands slide up the back of my thighs, gripping my ass, pulling me forward. I step into his space, widening my stance to give him room. He hooks hisfingers into the waistband of my panties and drags them down, the lace dragging over my skin until they pool around my ankles.
I step out of them, kicking them aside.
Gio stares at my cunt like it’s a holy site. He leans in and presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to my mound, his tongue flicking out to taste the skin just above my clit. It’s a reverent touch, worshipful, but it’s not enough.
I grip his hair again, tighter this time, and pull his face into me.
“Eat,” I command.
A groan vibrates through my pelvic bone as his face buries itself between my legs, his tongue licking a long, slow stripe from my opening to my clit. The way he goes at it is sloppy, messy and eager, like a man dying of thirst who’s just found water. His tongue flattens as he laps at me, tasting every inch, spreading my wetness around.
There’s no restraint in it—just a desperate attempt to consume me.
My clit disappears into his mouth, teeth grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves just enough to make me gasp, my head falling back against the doorframe.
“Fuck,” I breathe, my fingers tightening in his hair, holding him to me.
A pleased hum spills out of him, and the effort redoubles immediately—his tongue working my clit in tight, rapid circles while one of his hands leaves my ass to slide between my legs. One finger teases my entrance, circling the rim, gathering wetness.
“More,” I demand, my voice breathless. “Put them in.”
He obeys instantly. He slides two fingers inside me, his palm cupping my pubic bone, and curls them upward, finding that spot that makes my vision white out.
“Oh, god,” I gasp, my knees buckling slightly.
He holds me up, his arm locking around my thigh, anchoring me to him. He fucks me with his fingers, hard and deep, while his mouth works my clit. The rhythm is relentless, a piston-like drive that pushes me higher and higher.
He’s talking dirty against my skin, muttering filth between licks and sucks. “Taste like fucking heaven. Missed this cunt so much. Dreamed about it every night. Could come just from this, just from tasting you.”
The words are filthy, degrading, and they make me hotter.
I look down at him—at the flex of his shoulders, the way his dark head is buried between my legs, the way his hand is moving as he finger-fucks me. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. Gio Rossi, the untouchable, on his knees, worshipping me like I’m his religion.
“Good boy,” I moan, the praise slipping out before I can stop it.
He shudders violently at the words. A ragged groan tears out of him as he sucks my clit harder, his fingers pumping faster. Being told he’s good does something to him. Being owned does even more.
I grind down against his face, taking my pleasure, using his mouth to get myself off. I ride his tongue, chasing the friction, chasing the heat. The coil in my belly is tightening, winding up so tight it hurts.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp. “Right there. Don’t you fucking stop.”
He doesn’t. The effort doubles immediately. A third finger joins the others, stretching me, filling me up, crooking just right. His tongue presses flat against my clit and vibrates there, a low hum rolling out of his throat.
The sensation is too much.
It’s a white-hot explosion behind my eyes. My back arches, a cry tearing from my throat as I come. My cunt clenches around his fingers, rippling and spasming, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over me.
There’s no pulling away. He stays with me, lapping up my release, drinking me down like I’m fine wine. A groan breaks out of him as I come, the sound muffled by my flesh, his grip on my thigh bruisingly tight.
I ride it out, my hips jerking against his face until the spasms subside and I’m left gasping for air, my legs trembling.
Slowly, I release my grip on his hair. I slump back against the doorframe, trying to catch my breath.
Gio pulls back slowly. His face is wet—slick with my arousal, his chin glistening. His lips are swollen and red. When he looks up at me, his eyes are heavy-lidded and dazed, completely wrecked.
