Page 99 of Vicious Behaviors
“Play nice and you might just get your wish.”
“I’m going to hold you to it.” She winks, letting go of my hand to walk in front of me, already imagining herself running up and down this house with me chasing behind her.
I watch her hips swing left to right, her ass taunting my restraint further as we pass under a crystal chandelier, the size of a small car, and into the living area. Sunlight pours through the floor-to-ceiling glass doors at the far end of the room, drawing the eye toward the landscaped terrace beyond. From here, I can just make out the neat rows of planters and the soft green canopy of trees outside. The street past it is hidden for now, but I know that you can see the elegant lines of the neighboring brownstones beyond the trees and high walls.
Izzie eyes the black marble fireplace that dominates one wall, its mantel adorned with a handful of family photos to give the lavish house a homey feel, curiosity tugging her toward the framed pictures that hold a younger version of me. Still, that can wait.
I close the small space between us, my hands finding her waist as I gently stir her toward the grand living room instead. Her gaze sweeps over the space before she lets out a gasp, followed by an excited laugh.
“You didn’t?!” she squeals.
In the center of the living room—where a sleek white leather sectional has been pushed aside—sits a king-sized mattress dressed in crisp white sheets. Beside it, a bottle of champagne chills in an ice bucket, and a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries—fresh from the kitchen—waits, their glossy shells catching the warm afternoon light.
“You got the job, so I thought you might want to celebrate,” I murmur in her ear, grinning at the feel of goosebumps rippling across her skin.
She turns in my arms, draping hers over my shoulders. “This took some planning. What if I hadn’t gotten the job?”
“I liked my odds.”
Izzie’s eyes lock with mine, and what I see in them should terrify me. But it doesn’t. Quite the opposite. If her gaze were an autumn forest, I’d lose myself among the golden light and shadow until I forgot the way home.
“What am I going to do with you?” she whispers, her voice soft but charged.
“I think the better question is, what am I about to dotoyou?”
Not waiting for a reply, I scoop her into my arms. Her legs swing back and forth playfully as I carry her over to the mattress.
I lay her gently on it, then hurry to strip us both bare, her laughter spilling into the air at my eagerness. But when my head dips in between her thighs, the laughter melts into breathy moans.
I might have been a novice when she first brought me into her bed, but like in all things, I’m a quick study. I know exactly what makes her whisper my name, what makes her cry it out, and what makes her scream for more.
Since I’ve been with her, I’ve learned a few things about myself, too. Spending almost twenty-four-seven either in a testosterone-filled gym or surrounded by wise guys, I’ve heard the crude saying that men fall into one of two camps—they are either the kind who lose their shit over a generous handful of tits, or the kind who can’t look away from an ass they’d love nothing more than to sink their teeth into. You’re either one or the other. Never both.
Me? I’ve learned that I’m an Izzie man. Every inch of her is perfect. The way her skin heats under my palms, the way shetrembles when I’m inside her, the way she shatters when my tongue flicks at her clit.
Eating Izzie out has become my favorite kind of foreplay. Hearing her gasp my name as she comes undone has me hard as stone every damn time. I barely have to touch her for her body to respond to me. But I get a thrill every time I part her thighs and sink my teeth into her tender flesh, knowing she’s already wet and aching for me. No other aphrodisiac could ever compare.
The only thing I haven’t mastered yet is talking to her as I eat her sweet cunt out. Izzie loves it when I talk to her. Every word that spills from my lips as I worship her body increases her desire for me tenfold. I live for her tiny moans and how her breath catches in her throat. How her fingers dig into my skull, encouraging me to do my worst.
“Marcello,” she cries out after she’s come on my tongue.
I lick my lips and pull myself up to hover over Izzie. I kiss her lips, needing her to taste how sweet she is, the illicit kiss coaxing her to moan into my mouth.
“Marcello… please,” she begs in between breaths.
“What do you want,bella?” I moan out, kissing her neck, nibbling at her skin as my cock runs up and down her soaked slit.
“You. Just you,” she whimpers, needy.
And fuck if that doesn’t do me in. I obey her command willingly, centering the head of my cock at her center and thrusting deep inside her until we’re both hissing out in pleasure.
I’ll never tire of this. Of how she feels around me, as if welcoming me home.
“Talk to me,” she says, running her fingers through my hair as her eyes lock with mine.
There’s such longing in her stare. Such trust. It takes me a minute to catch my bearings and not get lost in what looks a lot like love looking back at me.
“Izzie,” I whisper her name like a prayer, her pussy clenching at the sound of her name on my lips.
