Page 8 of Winter
Tommaso held her hand as they walked to his bedroom, and as he closed the door behind them, Inca realize what a risk she was taking. No-one knew she was here …
All worries fled when Tommaso kissed her again, pushing her overcoat from her shoulders and running his large hands down her curves. “Bellissima …”
His low, deep voice, with that Italian accent, sent vibrations of pure pleasure through her. His tongue gently massaged hers; he tasted wonderful, of fresh air and toothpaste.
With a growl, he tumbled her onto the bed and then his hands were pushing up her skirt, pulling her panties down, and his mouth was on her then. Inca gasped at the feel of his tongue lashing around her clit.
What am I doing? What the hell am I doing?
But she didn’t stop him. He stripped her, kissing every exposed part of her skin until she was a quivering mass of desire.
“Tommaso …”
He grinned, standing to quickly strip his clothes off. He had a firm body, elegantly shaped, masculine, a small smattering of hair on his chest. His cock stood proud and huge against his belly as he covered her body with his. The feel of his skin next to hers was intoxicating, and Inca couldn’t tear her eyes from his clear green gaze.
Tommaso entered her slowly, teasing her, making her moan with anticipation before slamming his hips hard against hers, his cock thrusting deep into her ready cunt. Inca had never experienced this intensity before; it was all consuming. Tommaso fucked her hard, his prowess obvious, his focus on her absolute.
Inca came, almost crying with pleasure, and as she shivered and moaned, Tommaso buried his face in her neck as he too reached climax, pumping thick, hot semen deep inside her. He collapsed on top of her, his mouth seeking hers, whispering her name over and over.
Inca closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of him holding her. Was this what she had been missing all these years? Sensuality, desire … with the thrill of the danger. Whowasthis man?
When she opened her eyes, he was watching her. His mouth hitched up in a smile. “You are beautiful, Inca. So beautiful.” His fingertips traced a line down her body, over her nipple, to her belly.
She gave him a shy grin. “I have never done something like this before.”
“Just go with it.” He was so confident, and his hand, tracing a pattern on her belly, was making her crazy.
Inca touched his face. “I know you said we should do this the wrong way around. I think we achieved that.”
He kissed her. “Inca, the moment you walked into that teahouse yesterday, I wanted to fuck you. But I suppose you have the same effect on most men.”
Inca felt uncomfortable then. “Honestly, Tommaso, I hadn’t thought about it. As I said, this isn’t what I would normally do. But you, sir, are something else. And I thought, what the hell?”
Tommaso grinned and moved on top of her. “You’re the perfect tour guide,” he murmured, “and, I hope, much more than that.”
Inca smiled as he gently wound her legs around his waist. She could feel his cock thicken and lengthen against her thigh. As he teased her with the tip, she sighed happily. “I don’t expect anything from you, Tommaso, but …oh!”
Tommaso grinned wickedly as he plunged his enormous, rock-hard cock back into her. “I’m going to fuck you all night long,Principessa, in every way you’ll allow … say my name, Inca …”
“Tommaso …”
“Scream it.”
“Tommaso! God! Yes, yes …”
Inca woke cold and shivering. The light in the room was blue, and she could tell it was very early morning. The bed beside her was empty and the sheet that had been wrapped around her was now down at her hips. She sat up, blinked, and shook her head. What the hell had she been thinking? Last night had been the most erotic, sensual time of her life, but in the cold light of day …
She got up and went into the bathroom. There was a toothbrush and a basket of toiletries left out on the side for her and she smiled. She showered quickly and got dressed, shoving yesterday’s underwear into her pocket. Feeling incongruous and shy, she padded through the large mansion, only now just noticing how beautifully it was decorated. The Winters’ aesthetic was obviously minimalism and clean lines. Navy, gray, and a monochromatic color scheme, made her shiver a little. It was the opposite of her messy, cozy, colorful apartment.
She found the kitchen and saw him at the stove, flipping pancakes. Grinning, she walked up to him and slid her arms around his waist.
“Good morning, Mr. Winter.”
She jumped back as he dropped the pan and spun around.
Oh, fuck.
Inca stepped back, horrified. Raffaelo Winter glowered at her.
