Page 182 of Stalking Ginevra

GINEVRA

I’m glad Benito brought me to our old treehouse. His cold exterior has melted away, leaving behind the man who’s loved me for two decades.

He sits at my feet, his dark eyes burning with desire. “I’m yours to command.”

The words go straight to my clit. Nipples tightening, I bite down on my bottom lip and pull on his lapels. “Get back here.”

He scrambles up to the chaise, letting me ease him down until he’s lying on his back. This is the Benito I want—the man who connects so deeply with my soul. The man willing to do anything to make me happy.

“You’re wearing too many clothes again,” I say with a smirk.

He smiles back, a wide grin of perfect white teeth that reaches the corners of his eyes and makes him look a decade younger. “You know what to do.”

Straddling his waist, I reach for his tie, loosen the knot, and slide the silk free. After tossing it aside, my fingers find the placket of his shirt, and I loosen the button to reveal tantalizingglimpses of his olive skin. As I expose the tattoo over his heart, my breath stutters again.

Benito watches me with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. His eyes are dark, hooded with lust, but there’s something deeper—a reverence that sets my skin aflame. I can’t believe this is the same man who once kept me locked away. Now, he’s laid bare before me, vulnerable, willing, utterly mine.

My fingers linger over the symbol of his undying love etched over his heart, feeling its steady beat.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” I say, my words thick with emotion.

“I had no choice. It was either you or nobody.”

My heart flutters at the conviction in his words. “You mean you never?—”

“I haven’t even kissed another woman,” he says.

“Oh,” I reply, my voice breathy. “So your first time was in that hotel?”

An expression flashes across his features. Exasperation, maybe? It’s too fast for me to process. “My first time was with you, Ginevra. It’s only ever been you.”

“The way you talk, I almost sound like a goddess,” I whisper.

“Come here and let me worship you,” he growls.

I shuffle up the chaise so I’m straddling his head. Benito’s hands find my hips, gripping my flesh with a possessive need that makes me shiver.

“I love it when you take charge,” he says, his voice thick with desire.

“Then you’re going to love being my throne.”

A low growl rumbles in his chest as I lower my hips, my pussy lips brushing the tip of his nose.

“Fuck, Ginevra,” he gasps, his hot breath fanning my folds. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“You said I was in charge.”

He moans, the sound vibrating through my pussy. “Sit on my face, woman.”

I laugh, the sound giddy. “You’re mine, and you’re about to give me the ride of my life.”

Benito’s grip tightens on my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh, anchoring me in place as he pulls me down over his face. At this angle, the tip of his nose nestles against my pubic bone, and I’m staring down into his dark eyes.

It’s almost a shame that other men have taken my firsts. I lost my virginity to Samson, and was forced to give him fellatio. Bob Brisket was the first man to give me oral. At least Benito is the first who’s allowed me to sit on his face.

The first sweep of his tongue sends a jolt of pleasure rippling through my core, making me gasp. Thighs quivering around his head, I grab the back of the chaise to stay upright.

“God, Benito…” I murmur, my voice trembling as I lose myself in the rhythm of his tongue.

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