Page 65 of The Road to You
“Me?” he whispers. “Never.”
His mouth trails kisses down the side of my throat and lower, and even though everything about the masseria feels safe and timeless, my heartbeat races like a kid sneaking into the neighbor’s pool at midnight. It feels dangerous and forbidden and so exciting.
“Michele…” I start to protest, but he grins, wicked and boyish, looking up at me from under his thick lashes.
“Shh,” he says again. “Bet you can’t stay quiet.”
He kisses me between my breasts while he grazes his thumbs over my peaking nipples under the fabric of my tank top.
“You’re terrible,” I half whisper, half moan.
“I’m Italian,” he murmurs, biting my breast lightly.
“What does that even mean?” I chuckle.
He raises my tank top over my stomach, nipping and licking his way down toward the waistband of my panties. I think I’m losing the battle of keeping it quiet.
“According to the stereotype, I’m a charmer and passionate in bed,” he teases with a smirk on his face.
That makes me snort. “Not a valid excuse.”
He ducks under the sheet like a ghost, and my laugh dies on my lips when his mouth touches the inside of my thigh and hisfingers slip my panties down my legs. My breath catches in my throat when, with a series of wet kisses up my inner thigh, he reaches the apex where my clit is already begging for attention. Michele licks along my folds, sucking on the bundle of nerves.
I grab the pillow and press it over my face, biting it so as not to moan and beg for more. Knowing his parents are just around the corner makes me feel naughty, reckless, and alive at the same time. He licks and nips and sucks with such an intensity that I don’t think I will last long before the orgasm pooling in my lower belly will explode like fireworks.
When he slips one finger into my wet core, I whimper softly in pleasure. When he slips a second, I have to press the pillow over my face to not let the moan escaping my lips reach anyone’s ears. When he starts pumping them in and out of my wetness, I tense and arch my back, pushing my hips against his face, giving him more space to suck on my clit and build my approaching orgasm.
It takes him a few masterful strokes, bending his fingers inside me to make me come undone under his expert tongue. Wave after wave of pleasure ripples through my body, making me want to scream my lungs out. I press the pillow firmly on my face and let out a moan I’m sure everyone can hear.
He doesn’t let up. He keeps sucking and teasing, prolonging my pleasure to the point that my sensitive bud wants to beg him to stop. My teeth almost hurt from biting the pillow.
I don’t win the bet. God, it’s a miracle if we don’t wake up everyone in this house.
When I finally breathe again, my chest is rising like I’ve run a marathon. He kisses my hip, the inside of my knee, then the hollow just above my belly button before slipping back out of the covers.
His hair is a mess, and he looks extremely proud of himself.
“Now, who’s seducing who?” I whisper.
He smirks, kissing the corner of my mouth. “I should go. Before my mom catches me and tells you we’re too young to make babies.”
I giggle against his chest. “You’re afraid of your mom.”
“You should be too. She makes her own sausage.”
I grab his wrist when he starts to move off the bed. “Stay.”
He freezes. Not in hesitation. In temptation. But then he brushes his lips against mine, gentle, grateful, full of something that scares me more than any paparazzi ever could.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he whispers. “Bright and early.”
“You better bring espresso,” I say, stifling a yawn.
“Only if I get a kiss first.” He smiles sweetly.
I give him one. And then another. And another.
Until he finally pulls himself away, slipping out of the room like a dream you will remember in the morning.
