Page 70 of The Crowned Garza
Refusing to feel ashamed of my inexperience, I peer up at him under my lashes and ask, “Will you let me ride you tonight?”
Without words, he slides the straps of my dress down my shoulders, then hooks one long finger inside the low-cut neckline and tugs it down until my breasts are free of the material, bared to him.
Searing desire swells in me even more when he fondles my breasts, brushing my nipples with his thumbs and tweaking them between his fingers. The way he touches me is so…intentional, direct, and loaded with confidence. Makes it feel as though he’s touched me a million times before, as if heknowsmy body and what works for me better thanIdo.
“Saint…”
He reaches down and removes the bow tie from around my thigh but only to relocate it. Around my neck. Exactly how I’d teased him earlier.
“Bellissima…” he mutters, heated eyes on my neck.
“Will you fuck me like this?” I wet my lips. “I’ll even let you choke me with it if you want.”
A light gasp floats out of me when he dips a hand between my thighs and collects my cum on his fingers, then uses it to lubricate his cock while he holds my gaze.
This man…makes me breathless. All without a word.
Will and Dom were both vocal lovers. Dom was a praiser, and Will was a dirty talker. Both fed my ego during bust-it-down time. But Saint, I’m realizing, is quiet and focused. I’m not used to quiet, so nerves take over. But then he’ll lock eyes with me, keeping me captive in them, and…it’s all there. The hunger, the desire, the fire, the restraint. And it’s hotter, sexier, and more validating than any dirty talk or praise. Because it forces me toconnectwith him. It’s deeper somehow, more intense.
Breaths short from the intensity of his stare, I drop my gaze to his cock.
His fingers flex around it and pre-cum pools from the tiny slit at the head. With the pad of his thumb, he collects the bead of liquid and smears it across my bottom lip.
“Don’t,” he orders, just as I’m darting my tongue out to lick it up, to taste that sweet nectar.
Not a fan of being told what not to do, I start to bristle, but then relax and obey. Hoping obedience will increase my chances of getting laid tonight.
Moving two steps to the nightstand, he gets out a slim bottle of lube, then returns and squirts some over my breasts. He tosses the bottle onto the bed before he cups my breasts and kneads, squeezes, caresses, rubbing the lube all over them until they’re slippery and glistening, my nipples tight and aching. A spark of something zaps through me each time he casually twists one of my nipples between two fingers. This is the most love and attention my breasts have ever received, even from me.
“Squeeze these beautiful tits together for me,regina,” he mutters, voice strained with lust. “Let me fuck them.”
For a moment, I hesitate, understanding that he has no intention of fucking me. But I tamp down my disappointment and indignantly comply, pushing my copious breasts together.
When I do, he takes a step back and just stares at them, then he drifts his eyes up to mine, letting me see the white-hot passion and appreciation in their depths.
Pleasure undulates through me, heat exploding in my chest.
How does he do that? How does he say so much with just his eyes?
“You’re perfect,regina,” he vocalizes now, right before he slides his cock between my breasts with a hiss. “Fottutamente perfetto.”
“I am.” I gaze up at him. “Do you want these perfect tits to be yours?”
He pinches my nipples, one then the other, as he glides back and forth. “They’re already mine.”
“They aren’t yours unless I say they are.”
“Who’s fucking them right now?”
“Because I’mlettingyou,” I taunt. “I could havesomeone elsedoing this same thing tomorrow night if I want.”
At that, his eyes turn to whiskey on ice, and he grips the back of my neck, fucking the tight tunnel between my breasts with firmer thrusts. “They are mine ifIsay they are.”
“Keep dreaming,DonLuciani.” I throw out a mocking laugh. “You get whatIgive you.”
“Ah.” The ice in his eyes melts a little. “Throwing a tantrum because I won’t give you my cock?”
Asshole.“I wouldn’t be a ‘brat’ if I didn’t, would I?”
