Page 63 of The Italian Reckoning
She silences me in a second by throwing her arms around my neck and drawing me into a messy kiss that’s a clash of lips and teeth as my words are smothered against her mouth.
My mind goes quiet.
Talking is a thing of the past.
The only thing that matters is Sarah. On my way here, I feared she had moved on. That her desire to be with me in any capacity had been stamped out after witnessing the cruelty of my father, or that she came to her senses and realized someone like me isn’t who she should have in her life. Somehow, I’m this lucky.
She rips open my shirt with one hand as we back up against the kitchen table. It scrapes an inch against the floor, then Sarah pulls herself up onto it and wraps her legs around my waist. My cock is hard. In seconds, she swallows down the moans that risein my throat. I’m following her lead because I’m the one who came to her and whatever her rules are, I’m here to follow them.
But I can’t stop kissing her. Every press of her lips stokes the fire burning down in my belly, every caress of her fingertips against my cheek, every gentle tug of my hair, every graze of her nails against my shoulders when she pulls my shirt down—it all consumes me. I kiss her until I have no breath left in my lungs, then I map out a path down her throat to her chest. She leans away to remove her T-shirt and then she’s back in her arms with one hand fighting to get down my pants.
It’s quick and messy, born of desperation and anticipation after having not seen each other in so long. She tastes as I remember her, and yet each touch is as fresh as a breeze on a warm Spring morning. She’s air and I’m a suffocating man.
“Ouch!” I gasp as her impatient tug of my cock nearly gets a very sensitive area caught in the zipper of my pants.
Sarah giggles against my lips and silences any further complaints by stroking my cock rapidly, then shifting around on the table to remove her leggings. Such stretchy material covers her body to alluring delight while simultaneously being the most irritating fabric to remove from her. It stretches as it catches on her knee and then one ankle until finally, it’s free and I’m back in her arms.
She tugs on my hair and kisses my throat, sucking and marking just below my jawline as she tightens her legs around my waist.
“Fuck me,” she demands, scraping her nails down my back and leaving a trail of fire licking against my skin.
So I do. I jerk her panties aside and thrust inside her soaked pussy in two thrusts, shoving myself as deep as I can reach. With one hand around her waist and a hand pressed to her lower back, I press us as close as possible while she whimpers and moans in my ear. She keeps one leg hooked around my waistwhile the other dangles off the table, and she guides my lips back to hers when I start to fuck her.
I fuck her hard. I fuck her fast. I pour every desire and achingwantfor her into every thrust into her body while she clings to me and whispers her pleasure against my lips between pants and gasps. She shreds my back with her nails, pulls my hair until my scalp aches, and clenches down so hard on my cock that it sometimes feels like she never wants to let me go.
I neverwantto be let go.
My mind is blissfully quiet and my heart is full. I fuck her until my thighs ache, until my back throbs and my balls are so tight that I can barely think straight. But I hold off on coming because I want to hear her and see her first.
“Come on,” Sarah pants, tossing her head to try and dislodge some wispy strands of hair caught against her sweaty throat. “Fuck—I’m so close, so fucking close!”
My hand dips down between us and I slide my thumb over her swollen clit, angling my hand to be something she can grind against between my thrusts. Sarah’s hips immediately jolt upward and she comes with a prolonged, soft cry that tremors with each thump of her pounding heart. The second she clamps around my cock, I’m weak to her pleasure and I come inside her with a whimper, burying my face into her hot throat where her pulse flutters rapidly against my lips.
Holy shit.
Holy…shit.
My thrusts slow, and Sarah sags back down onto the table with her chest heaving. She’s panting, her skin gleaming and her bra crooked across her body, but she’s smiling.
“Hi,” she says breathlessly after a few seconds.
“Hi,” I reply.
“Oh, no!” Sarah lurches upward suddenly, freeing herself from my hold, and my cock slips from her in a hot rush. Shethrows herself toward a bubbling pan just as the bubbles pour over the edge, removing it from the heat just in time. With a groan, she tosses the pan into the sink and then presses one hand to her abdomen. “I was looking forward to that.”
“What was it?” I ask, slowly tucking myself back into my jeans.
“Pasta.”
“Let me order pizza.”
Sarah picks her leggings up from the floor and nods, running one hand through her hair. Then she steps closer to me and takes over zipping my jeans up.
“Alright. I have wine. And then you can tell me why you’re here.”
“That’s easy,” I say, catching her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “I’m here because I can’t stand being away from you any longer.”
“Is that the only reason?” she asks as she adjusts her bra strap.
