I rested back on my forearms as he continued to softly stroke that bundle of nerves. “You should be with . . . your . . . brothers. Not worrying about me. I’m . . . fine.” Just breathless and panting with your hand and eyes on me.
“I told you earlier, I’ll always worry about you.” His other hand slid down the front of my dress, and he palmed my breast beneath the bra. “And you don’t really want me to stop, do you?”
“No.” My eyes flashed open at the loss of his touch.
“Good.” He stood and twirled a finger. “Center of the bed on your back this time,” he commanded while fixing the cuffs of his shirt as if about to go to a meeting, not get me off. Was he serious?
I stared up at him, unsure what to do. Give in to desire and let him relax me or demand he go to his brothers and do what he came to New York to do. Could he really afford to be distracted another time?
“I won’t ask again.” His voice was rough as he let go of his sleeve.
“And what will you do if I don’t behave?” Oh jeez, what was with my new obsession of playing with fire? Then again, I was single now, and there’d been months of hot back-and-forth between us. Sexual innuendos buried within our words. A bit of cat and mouse. Foreplay without the actual “play” up until recently.
“I’ll show you, sweetheart.” Without giving me a chance to follow his order, he hoisted me to my feet and tossed me over his shoulder.
My dress went up, and he spanked my ass with one hard smack while carrying me to the fancy chaise longue by the french doors.
He let me go only long enough so he could sit. Snatching my wrist, he pulled me onto his lap, and I found myself facedown, my side braid hanging in my face and my dress bunched at my waist with his hard cock near my center.
My nails bit into the suede fabric of the seat when he began to smooth his hand in small circles over the area he’d spanked.
And then his fingers slid inside me as his thumb pushed against my other hole, and I squirmed, but he held me firm in place.
“Relax, Tesoro.” But his dick was rock-solid, and I couldn’t help but rotate my pelvis, dry humping him like I was a decade younger and still a virgin.
“You’re touching me . . . there,” I whispered in embarrassment, but whatever he was doing, touching me from both angles was like sensory overload but in an amazing way.
“Mmmm. We have a list of yours to check off,” he reminded me, and he was right, I was pretty sure being “punished” was on the list.
And that husky tone of voice of his, as if he were being throttled by his own desire to fill me with his cock instead, was going to set me off.
“You need to come so you’re not so wound up when you go cook.”
Cook, right. Sure. That’s what I was thinking about right now with his hands touching me from both angles and my ass in the air on his lap, and I’d probably be wearing the mark of his handprint for a few hours. And I fucking loved it.
“What about you?” I clawed at the fabric as he brought me to the edge, drawing the breath from my lungs faster and faster with each stroke of his hand over my sensitive flesh.
“Later, I promise. I don’t think it’s a good idea to be this tense anymore. Because I’ll lose my mind in front of my family otherwise.”
At least he was finally coming to his—
My thoughts died as he managed to free the orgasm from somewhere deep inside me and had me coming hard, coating his fingers in my arousal.
I nearly sank my mouth into the fabric to try and bury my scream but instead accidentally bit the inside of my cheek as I came undone, my stomach muscles getting a great workout.
“Wow.” I think I panted the word as he helped me stand. I adjusted my dress, my face probably as red as that one spot on my ass. I was hot all over.
He smirked, then went into the connecting en suite and washed his hands as I slipped on the panties I’d grabbed from my luggage.
I looked over and found him in the doorway, leaning against it with folded arms. “Is this how you’ll be relieving my tension from now on?”
“I told you orgasms help you live longer.” He winked. “Want you living forever, bellissima.”
Wellll. “Ditto.” My gaze flirted with the bulge in his pants as he shoved away from the door. “So let me help you.” I went for my side braid and freed my now-dry hair, allowing the soft waves to fall over my shoulders.
He ate up the space between us and brushed the pad of his thumb along the line of my lips. “This mouth was made for fucking.”