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Christy
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Ice slides down my back. “Lisa told you.” I don’t know why I bother saying it. My lips are so numb the words barely make sense to my own ears.
A nod. “Lisa told me. She was trying to save your life.”
I can’t take his cold stare anymore. Squeezing my eyes shut, I work to keep air moving in and out of my lungs. He knows I wanted to kill him. That means he is going to kill me. It means he has to kill me.
“So, what? Is this my last supper?”
“Do you want it to be?”
I’m confused.
“You did a piss poor job of trying to kill me. Did you want to get caught? Do you want me to be the one to kill you? One more sin you could lay at my feet?”
Shaking my head, I open my mouth intent on defending myself. I made mistakes sure. It’s not every day you try to figure out how to kill someone. Yet, I can’t find the words. For the first time, I stop and go back to the beginning of the idea. I don’t know anymore.
A bell sounds. He gets up and crosses the kitchen. I stare at the glass of wine in front of me. At least I don’t have to worry about becoming an alcoholic. Liquid courage it is, I sip tentatively. There isn’t the wood taste I’m used to. Once I start, I don’t stop until it’s gone. Reaching across for the bottle, I refill my glass to the top and am almost done with the second glass when he sets a plate down in front of me.
Eyebrows go up at me, but he doesn’t say a word. Just takes the bottle from in front of me. He refills his own glass before he begins to eat.
“I don’t usually drink wine because I don’t like it. It usually tastes like I’m sucking on the wood from the barrel or something. I’ve never tasted wine this good before.” He shakes his head. “What? Not everyone can afford hundred-dollar bottles of wine.”
“It’s thirty-four dollars.” My eyes go wide. “It’s a pinot noir, it’s made with black grapes. It’s not wood you don’t like it’s the tannins from the grapes. Black grapes have less tannins and a stronger fruit of plums, cherries, and strawberries. You could probably get a bottle that tastes as good at ten dollars.”
I shrug, “I’m not usually one for wine anyway. I was too afraid I’d wind up a drunk like my mother.” I can’t hold in a sigh as I chew the stuffed shell. “This is so good. What Lisa said is true—you’re good at everything.”
A small shake of his head. “I didn’t make this. My housekeeper did. This is my sauce, though. I make some up every Sunday and she and I use it throughout the week.”
Glancing around the kitchen again, “So does she live-in? Is it just you in this house?”
A nod. “Just me. This was my parent’s home. I grew up here. My hope was...” He shrugs as he takes a sip of his wine.
Wonder goes through me. I recognize the flicker of yearning. “You wanted a big family.”
He hesitates before nodding. “Yes.”
I remember the article on his wife’s death. It was an accidental overdose of pain pills. A year later, he lost his son. “Your wife didn’t or couldn’t?”
Another sip of his wine as he studies me. “Wouldn’t.”
One word, yet it’s filled with so much pain, anger, frustration. I’m at once jealous and angry toward a dead woman. “I’m sorry.”
Leaning back, he studies me. “You really are.”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Your hatred of me, for one.”
I blink fast. Where did that go? All of the hate that burned through me, filled me up until sometimes I felt like I was going to choke on it. How had it disappeared so quickly? Searching for it inside me, I can’t find it. There isn’t even a residue of it lingering.
Our eyes meet, and he sees my confusion. “If you had managed to kill me, my men and son wouldn’t have let you get far. But if by some random chance you had, you would have offed yourself within about thirty days. You wouldn’t have been able to live with what you had done, killing someone. It would have become a poison in your blood, eating at you from the inside out.”
Throwing back the last of the wine, I struggle to swallow it down. He was right. And now I get his question of whether or not I was trying to get him to kill me.
It appears without me ever seeing him reach for it. It’s a tiny clear Ziploc filled with a white powder. Setting it down on the table, he slowly slides it across to me. “It's uncut heroin. I make it up nice and neat and sweet and put it into your vein. You’ll have the highest high you've ever known in your life. Once you close your eyes, you never wake up again.”
I want the rest of the bottle of wine. My eyes flick to it as I blink to keep the tears from running over. The tiny bag is within reach, the bottle isn’t.
His long elegant hands are steepled in front of him. “Despite what you think, I don't take responsibility for Danny or your crazy mother. None of that had anything to do with me. Whether I existed, or not, your mom would have always hurt you. Because she was in pain and needed somebody else to feel the pain she was going through. Your husband cheating on you, you losing two babies. It had nothing to do with me. I don't take any responsibility for the pain in your life. Apparently, neither do you. But what I can do is make your last moments as good as I can. I'm willing to give that to you.”
Closing my eyes, I will the tears not to fall. I breathe deep, once, twice. I lose track of time. Stevie Ray Vaughan is stranded and caught in a crossfire. I’m stranded in a hell of my own making. Tony is offering me a way out without getting burned. Without pain. The tears are gone. I open my eyes and look at the small bag. I pick it up. It’s maybe two inches by two inches.
I put it down on the table, and I slide it across to him. “No. Somebody said that death should be easy because life is hard. I appreciate the offer. But if you’re going to kill me, I'm going to make it hard on you.”
A bitter laugh wells up out of me. “And maybe it won't be hard for someone like you. What? It will take five seconds to pull out the gun and pull the trigger. Will you even think of it for as long as it takes? By the time my body hits the floor, will you already have forgotten me? How many people have you killed? I’m curious. Do you know? Or do they all just blend together?”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say a word. I reach out and grab the bottle. I don’t even bother with a glass; I drink from the bottle. When I’m done, I use it to point at him.
“I'm not going to make it easy on you. Because when I thought of killing you, despite what you think—it was never easy on me. Not for a single second. I know killing you doesn't solve any problems in this world, let alone mine. Now. I know it wasn't your fault Danny killed himself. I know it wasn't your fault my mom hurt me. I’m pretty sure I always knew none of it was your fault. I made it your fault because it was easier than admitting what my mom was, what Danny was, what my father was.”
I take another swig of the wine. For a moment, my head swims as the alcohol hits me. Damn, it’s gone.
Fuck, where did the tears come from? Fuck it, there’s no coming back from them now. “You were this big, strong, powerful, completely untouchable thing. You were everything I wanted to be but knew I never could be. And I resented the fuck out of you for it. I wanted to make somebody pay for all the pain. Almost twenty years later and you were still free from all the pain. You were still this formidable, powerful, thing and I still wasn’t. It made me angrier than it did when I was ten years old.”
I slam the bottle on the table. “But I know it's wrong. Now. I get it. Killing you would be the same thing as killing me. And I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I don’t want to die. It would be easier. Easier for you and me. If you were to let me walk out the front door. I have no idea how I’ll get through tomorrow or the day after that. But I know I want to figure it out. I don’t want to kill you. It was never you I wanted to kill. I’m not sure why I couldn’t figure it out until today.”
Giving in, I look up to meet his eyes. They are impenetrable ice, he doesn't believe me. He still thinks I want to kill him. He still thinks I'm somebody to worry about.
I take a deep breath, wondering what happens now. His eyes flick to my chest, I feel them instantly. Even cold, his eyes affect me like a touch. It flashes instantly, the memory of what happened. He knew I wanted to kill him when I walked into the room. It hadn’t mattered to him, he wanted me. Tony Sabatini still wants me.
I want him too. Not just want him, that’s too soft a word. I need him, ache for him in a way I’ve never known before. If he does kill me, I want him to be the last thing I feel. I'm pretty sure I could die happy with Tony Sabatini as my last everything. I’ll take that. If it’s the only thing I can have, I’ll be happy with that.
“If you're going to kill me, I have one last request.”
An eyebrow goes up, yet he says nothing.
Meeting those cold blue eyes, I take a deep breath. “I want you to be the last thing I have. The French call it la petite mort. I would like a little death before the big one. From you.”
His jaw hardens, his hands go into fists on the table. It’s the moment in the room all over again. But he doesn’t say a word.
“Can you not deliver? Lisa said you could deliver.” I’m intent on getting a response, on getting what I want. I stand and take off my shirt, his eyes are on my breasts. The clasp of my bra is in the front, I flick it open. “It doesn’t seem fair. I took your cock down my throat, and you left me wet and aching, feeling so empty, Tony. I wanted your cock inside me—”
He moves so fucking fast I swear I never see it. One moment he’s sitting, unmoving, the next, his hands are on my arms, pulling me across the table. The clatter of the plates and glasses falling to the floor are dim against the roaring of the blood in my ears as his mouth crashes down on mine. It’s back, that painful electricity explodes throughout my entire body. So powerful that it’s painful. And it hurts so fucking good.
My hands are around his neck, needing to hold onto something. His tongue is velvet soft yet hot and hungry as it ravages mine. Taking, demanding, owning all of me. He tastes of black cherries and sin, of smoke and a million things I’ve never known before.
Tony pulls his mouth from mine, and I gasp from the loss. I only now realize there’s another man talking. I’m working so hard to breathe, though, I can’t hear anything above my frantic panting.
“Get the fuck out of here. I’ll be right there. Send Carmine to my office until she’s in my room.” Tony growls.
“What?” I mumble as he tries to pull away, my arms are locked around his neck. He’s sitting me down on the table. No, that’s too far from him.
His touch is gentle as he slides his hands up and down my arms once, twice, before grasping them and tugging them down. “I have to go, piccolina.”
My eyes are wide as I look up at him in disbelief.
Soft for the first time, his eyes run over me, and I shiver at the way they make me feel oddly safe yet hot and melty at the same time. “If I had a choice, it would be to stay here and be buried deep inside you already. I’ll give you what you want, have no doubt about that. First, business needs to be taken care of.”
The suit jacket from the back of the chair is wrapped around me. “Keep this on, so Carmine and Joseph don’t see you. No one sees your body but me. Go upstairs and wait for me. My room is directly across from the one you were in.”
I blink, and he’s walking away. Seconds later, I hear the front door close behind him. In a daze, I look around at the mess of broken glass and plates. Crap, I’m not wearing shoes. There doesn’t appear to be anywhere safe for me to put my feet to make it out of the kitchen without hurting myself.
Sighing, I give in and yell for Carmine about a half dozen times. Finally, the guy who drove my car appears in the doorway of the kitchen, eyeing me warily. “What?”
“There’s broken glass and stuff on the floor. I need shoes.”
He looks at the floor and frowns, then back up at me. It’s obvious he’s not sure what to do.
“Or you can clean it up? I don’t really care either way, but there is too much crap on the floor for me to take a chance.”
Frowning again, he nods and goes toward the pantry. He comes back with a broom and a dustpan and starts sweeping everything up. As he bends down, I swear it was never a plan, which is probably why it fails badly. I spot the empty bottle of wine at my side and his head is right there. Without thinking, I slam the bottle on the back of his head. Unlike in the movies, nothing happens that I think will. I try to jump off the table, and I land on a piece of glass and cry out as I fall on my face. Carmine grabs my ankle and drags me toward him.
The fucker hefts me over his shoulder and carts me upstairs. He tosses me on the bed, and before I know what’s happening, he’s tying me to the corner bedpost with a silk tie.
“Ouch, you fucker. I’m bleeding here.” Fuck, he tied it way too damn tight.
“Yeah, well, so am I.” Taking his hand away from the back of his head, I wince at the sight of the blood.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I don’t even know why I tried to do it.”
“Tell it to Tony when he gets home. He’s going to kick my ass for you getting the drop on me and seeing your tits.”
Oh god, I only now feel the suit jacket is wide open. Before I have time to be embarrassed, he slams the door behind him as he leaves. Shit. I’m in so much trouble. Tony is going to be so pissed off at me.
Weirdly, I’m not truly afraid...okay, I am not looking forward to him being cold and angry, but I don’t have any actual fear of Tony. What in the hell is the matter with me?
Rationally, I know he has to kill me. Even with the hot as fuck moment in the kitchen and his promise to give me what I asked for. In the end, Tony Sabatini is going to kill me. At the same time, my instinct—everything in me—screams I’m safe with him.
I don’t know. Maybe this is all some weird waking dream from the whole planning thing. I should be pee-my-pants freaked out right now, but I’m not. Although it is fucking annoying the way the damn jacket is open and my breasts are hanging out. And, of course, I’m pointed right at the camera.
Holy shit. Am I actually wet at the thought of Tony seeing me naked on the camera? Oh lord, I am. There might have been two stories that remind me of this, I had found myself reading faster than the others. The idea of giving up control to Tony, to have him take over, is causing me to squirm on the bed with aching need. I can’t fight it anymore. A part of my fascination with him is the raw power he exudes. Tony Sabatini is in charge, absolutely, without question. So why shouldn’t I give up to him and not fight it—fight him?
Up until today, I had desperately sought to control my world and everything in it. And I’m so fucking tired of it. It was all for nothing anyway. It didn’t matter how many hours I spent meal prepping and shopping and making sure everything was perfect. In the end, it all fell apart. I have no doubt nothing is allowed to fall apart without Tony Sabatini’s say-so. There is an odd appeal to having Tony be the one in control over everything now.
A groan escapes me. I really have to pee. I start calling for Carmine, but he never comes. Jerk.
Okay, I maybe deserve it.
Where is Tony? Is he okay? How much longer do I have to wait?
***
Tony
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Before Carmine opens his mouth, I know something happened. I haven’t checked the cameras, too worried I wouldn’t be able to control my response to seeing Christy in my bed.
“What?” I dare him to give me the bad news.
To his credit, he doesn’t flinch from it. “She hit me on the back of the head with a wine bottle. Tried to run while I was cleaning up, and she got glass in her foot. I tied her up in the guest bedroom again with my tie. I didn’t want to go hunting for handcuffs. She’s been up there since you left, almost three hours now. And um, about an hour ago, she started yelling about needing to pee, but I didn’t go up.”
“You saw her tits, didn’t you?”
He barely moves his head in a nod before I send my fist into his eye. The blow sends him to the floor. “Get the fuck out of my sight. You’re benched for a fucking week. No money, no nothing.”
Moving fast, he’s out the door aware he’s lucky it wasn’t worse. Once he’s gone, I set the alarm and head upstairs. Even though I’m pissed at him and Christy, I’m a little glad she’s not waiting for me in my bedroom.
As I undress, I use my shirt to wipe off the blood on my neck from the man I tortured tonight to get information on his crew. The Serbian bastard put up a fight. It had taken almost two hours and a lot of blood to break him.
In the end, we got everything we needed. Milos was using the information now to dig deeper. It would be a few days before we could confirm and act on it. My concern is if they figured out we got our hands on him, they might change things before we could use what he gave us.
Careful to put the blood-soaked clothes in the hamper Carmella specified so they wouldn’t get blood on anything else, I sigh. I hadn’t wanted Christy to see me with blood on me. But as I go into the bathroom and punch my setting on, I wonder if I should have allowed it. Something to make her aware of how fucking precarious her fate is and keep her from trying to run again.
Without business weighing on me, all over again I wonder what in the hell I’m going to do with her. Fuck her, definitely. I’d kept my phone in my hand, I bring up the camera in her room and god damn. She’s tied to the bed, the jacket I put around her wide open, and those gorgeous, mouth-watering tits are on display.
My cock is hard instantly as I recall what happened in the kitchen. The taste and feel of her against my body made me savage for her. If Joseph hadn’t been standing right there, I wouldn’t have been able to leave her. Christ, my phone had been going off for almost five minutes before he walked in. It hadn’t even registered. I was so lost in devouring Christy’s mouth. I couldn’t get enough of her. She was far more intoxicating than any liquor. There were the cherries and plums of the wine, but she also tasted of early morning sleepy sex, bright sunlight, and hazy daydreams.
I wrap my hand around my cock as I remember the sound of her little moans and the way her soft body felt against mine. Stroking up, then down I work to control the raging fire for her threatening to consume me. And she’s not even in front of me. The memory of how she had taken my cock down her throat like a fucking pro hits me and I squeeze tight at the base to keep from coming. No, fuck it’s been years since I was this close this fast. What is it about her that has me this twisted up and seething with desire? I need to fucking know, to understand so I can take control of it, of her.
Christy groans, bringing my eyes back to the screen. She moves around on the bed with another moan as she tries to get comfortable, and I’m leaking pre-come every damn where at how much it sounds like the noises she made when I had her in my arms. Her head goes back as she stretches, and her nipples are tight, and jesus fucking christ, I’m coming hard.
It takes longer than I want to finish washing up and drying off. I don’t bother doing more than wrap a towel around my waist. For the first time in my life, I turn off my phone and put it face down on the bedside table. This time there will be no interruptions.
***
Christy
––––––––
The door opens without warning. My stomach falls to the floor, and a flood of hot wet heat hits me so hard I finally understand the word ‘swoon’. I can’t take my eyes off his gorgeous chest and all the silky skin on display. Seriously? Why is my mouth watering? He crosses his arms, covering up the best part.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I have to pee really badly. Can you kill me after you let me pee?”
Shaking his head, he smiles a real smile, and a dimple flashes deep in his right cheek. For a moment, I forget about my bladder. Stunning, Tony Sabatini is absolutely someone-reached-into-my-chest-and-is-squeezing-it-with-all-their-might stunning.
In seconds, he has me untied then steps back giving me room to get off the bed. I step on my foot that I had completely forgot was still bleeding and was aching. I’m up in his arms so fast I haven’t even finished screaming from the pain.
“I’m going to kill him after all. He didn’t mention you were still sitting up here bleeding. Fucking hell.”
“I have to pee like you won’t believe, put me down. Now that I remembered, I’ll make sure not to walk on it.” I need to be out of his arms because all of the silky soft skin over hard as fuck muscles up against me has me plugged into a thousand volts of electricity that is freaking me the fuck out.
He frowns.
“Please. Seriously, right now.”
Carefully, he sets me down. Damn it, he’s made my freaking knees weak. It takes a second to find the strength to let go of him. “Come into my room when you’re done. I have a medical bag with everything I need to stitch you up.”
I nod as I keep moving into the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I almost cry in relief as I sit down. Done, I clean up and hobble to the sink to wash my hands. I try to examine my foot again. I hadn’t been in the best position on the bed. Dang it, it hurts like hell. It feels like the glass or whatever is still in there.
Catching my reflection in the mirror, I look like crap. And I’m really just standing here with my tits hanging out still wearing his suit jacket. I hadn’t even wandered around my house without clothes on. Closing the jacket around me, I don’t want to take it off. It smells like him—leather, moss, rain, something all Tony. As I catch myself with my nose buried in the silk, I wonder if I’ve completely lost my mind.
Maybe it’s that this is likely the last night of my life and right now it’s simply one minute to the next that matters. As a nurse, I’ve had a front row seat for death for almost a decade now. It had never gotten easy exactly, but I made my peace with the fact there was peace at the end.
I can’t say that I’ve ever truly felt peace, not even in those small moments of the day...at least not that I can remember. Yet when Tony held me tight against him today and told me I belonged to him, I came as close to peace as I ever have. And deep down I’m certain I would have experienced it completely—if it hadn’t been for the confusion of why I felt so good in the arms of a man I had walked into the room with the intention of killing.
It’s that certainty that takes me across the hall to his room. He spots me and moves fast. Again, I’m in his arms as if I weigh nothing, as if he cares. I’m on a soft, silky black comforter. There is a hard satchel bag open at the end of the bed, he already laid out two vials, syringe, a needle, and thick thread for stitches. Everything appears as it would in a medical setting.
“Where did you get everything?” I fight a whimper as he lifts my foot up to study it.
Laying out a thick brown hand towel under my foot, he goes into the bag and takes out a few alcohol wipes and a small, powerful flashlight. Using one of the wipes, he very carefully cleans away blood. “The Outfit has two family doctors as in they only work for us. They get us what we need. I keep a bag in my room, and another downstairs in my office. As well as a bag in my bookie office. Shit, that is tiny. Let me numb this up before I start digging for it.”
I’m impressed at the way he prepares the shot. I can’t stop from moaning at the pain of it going into my foot. It’s in the worst damn spot for a shot, but I won’t feel it so much to walk on. He cleans the needle of the syringe with an alcohol wipe and uses it to fill from another vial. “What’s that?”
“Antibiotic, to make sure you don’t get an infection.” As he gives me the shot in my arm, I wonder why he’s bothering when he’s going to kill me anyway.
“You seem comfortable with all of this. Do you have to use the bag often?” I eye the scars he has over his gorgeous body, most of them are older. There is only one that looks like it’s less than a decade old.
“Not for me, it’s been a while. While things happen, this life isn’t nearly as bloody as people think it is.” He pauses, “Usually.”
The shot worked, and there is only pressure, no pain, as he digs around in my foot with tweezers he pulled out of the bag. There is fresh blood on the hand towel he’s put beneath my foot. “Let me guess, things got bloody tonight? Or am I the thing that is about to get bloody?”
He looks up from my foot, his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond, simply goes back to it. Seconds later, he grunts, “Got it.”
I study the small white shard of what was once a plate. “Damn, for something so small, it hurt like hell.”
“It isn’t as bad as I thought it was. I think you’ll be fine with butterfly stitches.”
Pulling my foot up across my thigh I see he’s right, stitches would hurt more in the end. “Yeah, those will work. This will stop bleeding easily once I put them on.” I hold out my hand for them. With a look I can’t read, he hands them to me. It doesn’t take long to apply them. Once I’m done, Tony stands over me and applies a clear patch of adhesive to protect the wound from getting wet.
I watch him pack the bag away and bends down to store it in the bottom drawer of the bedside table. Watching him, I can’t keep my stomach from beginning to twist with longing. He took a shower. His hair is still damp. There is no thought as I reach out and run my hand through his hair.
The touch sparks something in him. His eyes meet mine, a growl comes out of his chest. I blink and my back meets the bed as his hard body comes down on mine. Hot, god, he’s so hot or is it me? I’m the one burning as his mouth moves down my throat. His velvet tongue is running over my heated skin. Sharp teeth nip before he sucks deep to soothe; only it doesn’t soothe, it sends me deeper into the fire consuming me. My hands fist into his silky hair, desperate for his mouth on mine again.
His tongue licks over my painfully tight nipple before sucking hard and oh god, oh god I don’t want him to ever stop. He sucks harder and harder then grazes his teeth over me as he lets my nipple fall free. I beg for his mouth again, he gives it to me on my other breast teasing, sucking, driving me out of my mind. Again and again he goes back and forth until I’m in tears from what he’s doing to me.
Even though I’m pleading for him to stop, when he does I gasp from the loss. Hard, rough hands, grab my ass, a cheek in each hand squeezing tight once, twice, then he’s yanking the yoga pants and panties off in one movement. I’m spread wide for him.
Reflexively, I try to close my legs, his shoulders won’t allow it. Thick fingers rub along my weeping slit, up then down. I need him inside me, please, please. At last they slide inside and press deep and I’m crying out with relief even as I’m begging for more. I get it when his tongue flicks over my throbbing clit. Only it’s not nearly enough, too soon his tongue slides inside me licking, thrusting into me. I hear him groan my name and shiver from the vibration it sends through me. Those thick fingers slide deeper into my tight, throbbing channel. At first, they’re gentle, seeking, as his tongue tears my skin from my body.
Gradually, his fingers become rough, demanding, pulling me closer and closer to the edge. Then he twists his wrist and those fingers find that beautiful, amazing spot and rub until I’m seeing stars. So close, I’m so close then everything stops.
I scream in frustration. Tony laughs. He goes up to his knees and pulls off the towel. Gorgeous, beautiful, my mouth waters as I take my time to study him. A wide chest covered in a mat of black hair runs into a lean waist where I swear it’s an eight pack not simply a six pack then down and...holy shit. Then he’s moving again, his mouth comes down on mine. It begins all over again. His mouth on my breasts, teasing, biting sucking, this time he’s rougher, more demanding and I welcome every bit of it. This time I give up to him, not daring to plead for him to stop because I don’t want it to ever stop.
When his mouth travels down my body, I’m already writhing in need. Those fingers have only to pump into me once, twice, and I’m coming hard as I slam into my orgasm. My body hits the water and breaks apart, slipping below the tide.
“Bad girl, you weren’t supposed to come yet.” Tony whispers against the skin of my mons.
Oh god, he makes me pay for it. His tongue is teasing, those fingers, there and then gone. He brings me close to orgasm until it’s just within my reach only for that cruel mouth to move and his fingers to disappear. No please, I beg. I’m coiled tight with need and then I feel it. The thick head of his cock is rubbing against my weeping slit.
Even though my bones feel like liquid, I fight to lift my head to watch. So fucking long and thick. I clench tight inside with fear at the prospect of him inside me. No, Lisa said he knows it will hurt. Lisa said he knows to go slow and make it good...unless you’re the idiot who wanted to kill him. The little voice taunts me.
Up then down he slides just his thick head inside me. It’s cruel teasing, every time he goes up he runs over my swollen clit. Down and oh, not yet. I want to moan. Finally, he slides inside me. At first, I’m so wet and needy I sob with relief as he enters me. Then he attempts to slide into my hot, throbbing tunnel. Oh, ouch he’s so thick, so thick. It’s been too long, my body is fighting him. His thumb slides over my pulsing clit, I open wide for him, taking him deeper without even realizing it. Slow, so slow, inch by thick, silk-over-steel inch pushes inside me. Without any warning at all, my body trembles in a small orgasm.
My eyes fly open in surprise. Tony chuckles as he watches me trembling, impaled on him. It’s not the one I want though, not the one I know he can give me. Opening wider, my legs go higher around his waist and he slips deeper inside me. More, deeper, I want all of him. I need all of him.
“Slow, piccolina, slow.” He moans as I grip him tight from deep inside.
Deeper, yes, so deep he moves until finally, finally we’re skin to hot skin. We both moan at the sensation. Every inch of him is burning into me, branding me as his, belonging only to him. I’m lost in pleasure when Tony moves. At first I resist, not at all happy about the loss of him. Only for him to thrust back in slow and sweet.
Oh yes, please, more. I give up all my will, trusting in Tony. At first, his strokes are small, measured, until they give way to fevered, demanding, pounding that has me sobbing for more. Close, so close, then at last it’s there. I explode into a million shimmering sparks of fire. Hot, wet, oh he’s not wearing a condom as he spills into me. The feel of him coming has me shaking all over again as he stretches my orgasm into his.
His arms wrap around me as he rolls onto his back, keeping me tight to him. Every sense is heightened as I lay against him. The smell of him, the feel of him, all of him surrounds me. I want to know what happens next yet I’m also afraid to break the silence. Fear keeps me quiet. His hand is running through my hair as if it’s soothing to him and before long it soothes me. I don’t want to fall asleep. I fight against it but darkness overtakes me.