Page 63 of Diego

Her skin is flushed. Her hair is a wild tangle around her face. She's panting, her breasts rising and falling.

Her pussy is swollen and wet and glistening in the last of the light.

My cock throbs in response.

I want more.

I need more. I need to be inside her. I need to feel her clenching around me, to hear my name on her lips.

I need it more than I need my next breath.

I lean down, pressing a soft kiss to her stomach. Then another, and another, working my way up her body. I stop to pay homage to her breasts.

She stirs, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"Diego," she whispers, her voice hoarse. "I think you killed me."

I chuckle against her skin. "No, dolcezza. I don't think so."

"I'm not sure my legs work," she says, her words a little slurred.

"They don't need to for what I have in mind next."

She laughs. It's a tired, beautiful sound. "You're a monster."

I smile against her nipple. "You have no idea."

I take her by the hips and gently pull her boneless body into a sitting position. She leans against me, her head resting on my chest.

I put my arm around her, holding her close.

For a few moments, we just stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms. The silence in the penthouse is comfortable, broken only by the sound of our breathing and the distant city below.

I press a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair.

Then I scoop her into my arms.

She gasps, her arms flying around my neck.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Taking you to bed," I say, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

I carry her out of the kitchen and into the living room. The city lights are starting to twinkle against the darkening sky, but my eyes are only for the woman in my arms.

I head toward the master bedroom.

She's light in my arms, her body warm and soft against mine.

The master suite is as impressive as the rest of the penthouse, with a king-sized bed, a fireplace, and a wall of windows overlooking the city.

I gently lay her down on the bed. She practically melts into it, a little sigh escaping her.

I stare down at her, my body tight with need. She's a goddess, sprawled out on the white duvet, her black hair a stark, beautiful contrast.

"God, you're beautiful," I say, my voice rough.

She flushes, but this time it's not from embarrassment. It's from the heat in my eyes.