Page 97 of The Slug Crystal
The question hangs between us, loaded with possibility. The fatigue that was dragging me deeper into the bed with each second crystallizes into something else. Something hot and demanding that makes it hard to breathe. Without allowing myself to overthink, I stand and cross the distance between us.
"I prefer doing to looking," I say, surprising myself with my boldness as I place my hands on his bare chest, tilting my head back to meet his gaze.
Luca's eyebrows rise, but he recovers quickly, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I was hoping you'd say that."
His hands find my waist, pulling me against him in one smooth motion. Luca's approach is pure confidence. He kisses like a man who knows exactly what he's doing and exactly what he wants. His lips are firm against mine, his tongue seeking entrance without hesitation. I open to him willingly, the last of my reservations dissolving under the heat of his mouth.
We move together toward the bathroom, a stumbling dance of desire, neither willing to break the kiss long enough to navigate properly. My back hits the cool marble counter, Luca's hands already working on tugging my t-shirt emblazoned with a nonsense Italian saying over my head with practiced efficiency. The towel around his waist comes loose, falling forgotten to the floor, and I get my first unobstructed view of him. His body is all lean muscle and golden skin, his cock throbbing and impressive.
"You're overdressed," he murmurs against my neck, pushing my t-shirt to the floor and reaching for the clasp of my bra. "Let me help with that."
My clothing disappears piece by piece, Luca's hands and mouth exploring each newly exposed area of skin with appreciative thoroughness. When I'm finally as naked as he is, he lifts me onto the counter, the marble cold against my heated skin. The massive mirror behind us reflects our bodies in duplicate. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the reflection of his tanned back contrasting with my paler limbs wrapped around his waist.
"I've wanted this since Florence," he confesses, his accent thickening with desire as his hands slide up my thighs. "Since I saw you in that pool, water making your clothes cling to every curve."
His fingers find me already dripping for him. He strokes across my sensitive nub with two fingers, using the sameconfident precision he showed at the plane's controls. I gasp against his mouth, hips instinctively rocking into his touch.
"So responsive," he murmurs approvingly. "So beautiful. Good girl."
Luca's praise feels like part of the seduction. It’s calculated to heighten pleasure and to build the tension. It works embarrassingly well, my body responding to his words as much as his touch. Too soon, waves of pulsating pleasure start to grow. Luca, feeling my legs tightening around him, latches his mouth to one of my nipples, tipping me over the edge.
“Luca,” I pant out his name.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, as he continues stroking across my clit with his fingertips and suckling my nipples, alternating between them, until the very last dredges of pleasure have washed away.
"Now," I demand, reaching between us to guide him where I want him most. My fingers wrap around his thick length, stroking up once, then circling a bead of precum around the tip with my finger. I pause while he groans, then I tug him closer to my core. "I need you now."
Luca grins, clearly enjoying my impatience. "As the lady wishes."
He pushes forward in one smooth thrust, filling me completely. We both groan at the sensation, enjoying a moment of perfection and stillness before he begins to thrust. His rhythm is confident and relentless, each stroke deliberately deep and slow to maximize pleasure. My legs wrap tighter around his waist, changing the angle and drawing him deeper.
"The shower," he suggests between kisses, never slowing his pace.
Without withdrawing from me, he lifts me off the counter, a hand supporting my weight beneath my butt as he carries me toward the still-steamy shower and cranks the knob to hot. It's a feat of strength and coordination that shouldn't bepossible, yet he manages it with the same effortless grace he brings to flying. The warm water hits us as we enter the glass enclosure, adding another layer of sensation to my already overloaded nervous system.
Steam swirls around us, clouding the glass as Luca presses me against the tiled wall. The contrast of cool tiles against my back and his hot body against my front sends shivers down my spine. Water streams over us, turning his skin slick beneath my fingers as I trace the muscles of his shoulders and back.
"Hold on," he instructs, shifting his grip to lift me slightly higher. The new angle sends him deeper, hitting a spot inside me that makes my vision blur at the edges.
I cry out, my voice echoing in the enclosed space.
"That's it," he encourages, his rhythm never faltering. "Let me hear you."
Unlike my other encounters, there's a performative quality to this. Luca clearly enjoys eliciting reactions and watching me come undone beneath his skilled attention. It should feel less intimate, perhaps, but instead it's liberating. There's no pretense between us, just pure physical pleasure and the honest pursuit of satisfaction.
His hand slides between us, finding the center of my pleasure again with unerring accuracy. The dual sensation of his fingers and his continued thrusts quickly pushes me toward the edge for a second time.
"Luca," I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders as tension coils tighter within me.
"I've got you," he promises, his voice rough with his own approaching climax. "Let go, Emma. I want to feel you tightening around me. Bring me over the edge with you."
The command, delivered in that accent that thickens with his arousal, shatters my control. Release crashes through me in waves, my body clenching around him as I cry out his name for a second time. He follows right after, his rhythmfaltering as he presses deep inside me, his face buried against my neck as he groans his completion.
He stands there, holding me while buried deep inside, for long moments with water streaming over us, as our breathing gradually slows. Luca presses soft kisses along my shoulder, gentler now that the urgency has passed. When he finally withdraws and sets me carefully on my feet, my legs tremble with the aftermath of pleasure.
He reaches past me to adjust the water temperature, then takes a bottle of shower gel from the built-in shelf. "Allow me," he offers, pouring the liquid into his palm. His hands move over my body with thorough appreciation, washing away the evidence of our passion while occasionally pausing to revisit places that make me gasp.
By the time we emerge from the shower, wrapped in the hotel's plush robes, the room has grown dark, the city lights spread out below our window like fallen stars. We collapse onto the nearest bed. My body is pleasantly exhausted, with the last of the adrenaline-forced fatigue dissipated.
