Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
As I breathe in his delicious scent, my cheek pressed to the soft, warm fabric of his shirt, feeling the hot flesh beneath, I let out a sigh.
Fiero groans, signaled by the sound I made, maybe misinterpreting my pleasure for frustration. There’s a very fine line between the two in this situation.
All at once, he bends and scoops me to him, and with a hand beneath my bottom, picks me up and carries me off. He mutters something in Italian that I don’t understand as he deposits me on a bed in a darkened room.
I involuntarily giggle at his sudden change of heart. “What did you say?” I ask, as he leans over me, his hands pressed into the mattress on both sides of me.
“Willpower. Fuck willpower.” His eyes are wild like a beast, a very sexy beast, as he descends on me.
Wild Sex Parties
His lips return to mine in a bruising kiss, before his mouth journeys lower, his tongue blazing a trail down my neck and to my chest where he nips at my breasts through the fabric.
Then he seems to catch himself, stopping to look up at me. “Is this all right? Are you good, Daniela?”
I laugh again, my surprised excitement needing an outlet. “I’m so good.”
With that, he pulls the neck of my blouse down, exposing my bra. He moans at the sight of my breasts through the thin fabric, and says a few more things in his language that I don’t need to ask him to explain.
Still impatient, he tugs the lacy fabric out of his way and takes one of my breasts into his mouth like he’s been starving for it. His tongue and teeth work at my flesh, bringing the nipple to a stiff peak before he attacks my other breast with the same fervor.
His hips shift to align with mine, and my breath catches as I feel his stiff cock pressing against me through our clothing. My pussy pulses with need, the intensity multiplied by the skillful way he worships my breasts.
When I wrap a leg around him to bring our bodies closer, he grinds down into me, rubbing against my clit, making me gasp. He raises his head to watch my face as he repeats the motion with his hips, sliding the hard bulge in his jeans against my mound.
I cling to his shoulders and cry out his name as I rapidly lose control. My eyes open wide, taking in the fact that he’s watching me, one corner of his mouth turned up into a grin, before my eyes squeeze shut, overcome with the pleasure rushing through my body.
Teeth graze my nipple, followed by the rapid flick of his tongue, and I tremble beneath Fiero as I surrender to a quick but intense orgasm. He sucks at my breast as my pussy throbs against him, taking me over the peak and down the other side.
When I’ve recovered, he kisses each of my breasts and tucks them back into the cups of my bra. Then he slides down the bed and lays a kiss at the apex of my thighs, right over my pussy, before returning to my mouth, to kiss me with a new intimacy.
The kiss is sweet, though, rather than passionate, signaling a conclusion, and when I reach for him, he lifts me from the bed. “It’s time to cook.”
I want him – I want so much more – but for now, I am satisfied, even though just being near him has me perpetually hot and bothered.
His bedroom, from the quick impression I get of it as we leave, looks more lived-in than the main room. Though the bed was made, there are clothes thrown over a chair and stacks of books and other materials on the dresser and floor.
Fiero leads me into the kitchen and pulls out a stool at the counter.
“Can I help you make dinner?” I ask.
“Next time. Today, I cook for you.”
And he does, with impressive skill and ease. He’s so skillful, in fact, that I’m glad I’m not helping him, because my cooking experience is much more limited than his seems to be. I know how to make basic meals, but nothing fancy.
As he cuts potatoes into uniform wedges, I become mesmerized by his hands. They’re strong, with long fingers, and I can imagine them working to make the sculptures I saw in his studio. I can also picture them running over the soft angles of my body, molding me with his touch.
“Would you like something to drink, Daniela?” He brings me out of my fantasy, and I blush, wondering if he could tell what I was thinking about.
As Fiero fills a glass with water from the refrigerator, the sound of the front door opening makes my body tense.
“I’m home,” Matteo calls out. I wonder if that’s his usual greeting, or if he’s hoping to avoid finding me in an intimate situation with his brother.