Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I’d struggled with intimacy before, with being too close with someone, so vulnerable.
All the years of routines and neuroses had made me a bit rigid, uncomfortable with things that took away even a small bit of my control.
I felt entirely out of control of my reaction to Cesare right then, so lost in the sensations that my body was moving with an intrinsic rhythm, with an ancient understanding of what was needed… and how to get there.
And, amazingly, I didn’t feel anxiety welling up, threatening to ruin this, to take me out of the moment, and too aware of myself and the situation.
All I felt was need and heat and him.
God, him.
With his roaming hands and his licks and sucks and nips to my skin as he explored my neck, my shoulder, the top of my chest that was exposed by my modest nightgown.
But then he was anchoring my lower back so he could bend me backward, bracing me, taking some of my weight as I was leaned back.
My knees clamped around his hips. At first, just to hold on. Then, as his head dipped, and he sucked my nipple into his mouth, nightgown and all, it was so I could writhe against him again as his tongue started to do circles around the hardened bud.
A whimper escaped me as my hands dug into his shoulders, and that growling sound moved through him again, but this time, vibrated around my nipple and into my chest.
I swear I felt it down to my bones, into my marrow.
My hips did another grind against him, making him let out an impatient grumble.
Then, suddenly, my nightgown was gathered in his hands, then up and off of me, leaving me naked save for my panties.
Right there in the living room.
The closest I’d been to nude in the main area of my house was when I’d realized after my bath that I’d left my towel on the top of the dryer, so I’d held a shirt to my front, and made a mad dash to retrieve it.
No one was home, but still.
I guess being naked in the living room had just seemed too out of control for me to be comfortable with.
Yet, somehow, with Cesare’s heated gaze moving over me, creating little sparks across the skin his dark eyes devoured, I couldn’t seem to muster up one hint of uncertainty, a spare thought to propriety and order and control.
In fact, I wanted anything but.
I wanted to lose all control.
I wanted, I realized, for him to take it away, to let me get lost entirely in this moment, in him.
“Fuck,” Cesare groaned as his gaze explored my body. The swells of my breasts, the pointed peaks aching for more touch. The slope of my stomach and the flare of my hips. “Beautiful,” he murmured as he lowered his head again, resting it between my breasts for a moment, his breath warm on my skin, sending out another rush of shivers, then moving to the side. Tongue circling, teasing, lips sucking, teeth grazing.
I felt beautiful then, too.
I wasn’t insecure about my looks, per se. But I was very aware of them. Almost painfully so. The kids at school had done a number on me, I guess.
I was careful about my dress, and put out a very particular image for others to consume, to draw conclusions with.
Stripped of that, I should have felt exposed and vulnerable.
Maybe I did.
Maybe it didn’t matter because, at that moment, I knew I could trust Cesare with that vulnerability.
His hands were moving over me then as well. Teasing up my sides from my hips to the outside of my breasts. They were soft, barely-there brushes that shouldn’t have ignited me as much as they did.
A needy whimper escaped me as my hips did another writhe against him, looking for something I couldn’t quite reach.
Cesare’s head lifted, his gaze on mine as his hand suddenly moved away, pressing at the material between my thighs.
My body jolted hard at the sensation as his fingers shifted, finding the spot where I needed him most, and teasing over it with expert precision.
“No,” he growled when I tried to lean forward, to bury my face in his neck, eyes squeezed tight. “I want to look at you,” he told me, making my heavy eyelids flutter open. “I want to watch what I am doing to you,” he said, making my sex clench hard even as his hand was moving, sliding into my panties, removing the last barrier between us.
A tremble coursed through me as his fingers slid up my slick cleft, finding my clit, and gently moving across it as his gaze held mine.
“I want to see your eyes when I do this,” he went on as suddenly his fingers were slipping inside of me, making my walls tighten around him, holding him close. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he hissed, his forehead leaning against my chest for a moment, like he was trying to get control over himself.