Page 89 of My Dark Fairy Tale
It pulsed in my chest like a lighthouse beacon.
By the time the sun set over the cerulean waters, we were all pleasantly sun drunk and sleepy. Martina was napping with her head in Renzo’s lap while he read a German spy thriller, and Ludo and Carmine were bickering softly over another card game.
“Take a swim with me,” Raffa murmured into my ear.
I was lying between his legs at the bow, listening to his sweetly accented English as he read from Dante’sInferno. We were almost at the end, and I hoped we would finishPurgatoriobefore I had to leave.
I was sleepy, muscles lax from hours in the salt waters, but I was not in a mood to resist anything Raffa wanted, so I stood up and took his hand when he offered it. We stood at the side of the boat, and he grinned.
“Insieme?”
Together?
I nodded, and in tandem, we arched over the lines and plunged into the cold sea. When I broke the surface, Raffa was already cutting through the water with clean, powerful strokes, aimed toward a smooth configuration of rocks on the outer ridge of the cove.
I swam in his wake, thinking I would follow him, like Eurydice, blindfolded and trusting through the underworld.
He was standing on the rocks, dripping water out of his hair, when I arrived, and he offered his hand to me. I laughed when he tugged me too hard, pulling me tight against his chest.
“From this angle, they can’t see us,” he whispered in my ear before nipping it.
I tilted my head and found he was right. Though I could see the boat slowly turning with the tide on its anchor chain, a huge outcropping ofwhite-gold rock meant if we lowered ourselves to the sun-warmed rock below, we would not be seen.
“Why, Raffa, what are you thinking?” I teased, linking my arms around his neck.
“I am thinking I cannot wait until tonight.”
He kissed me as soon as the words were out of his mouth, lifting me into his arms with his hands on my ass, pressing me to his groin, where I could already feel the hardening line of his dick. I groaned into his mouth and slid my hands into the wet strands of his hair, holding on as he kneeled on the rock and laid me gently against it.
“You taste like salt and sunshine,” he muttered against my mouth between succulent kisses. “Divino.”
I moaned when those talented lips trailed down my neck, pausing to kiss mycornicellobefore nipping each peak of my breasts through my wet bikini.
“You look like something from another time or another realm,” he said as he nosed the fabric aside and sucked my nipple into his hot mouth, shocking after the temperature of the sea. “A woodland nymph, a Renaissance princess, one of Salacia’s Oceanids. Sometimes, I cannot believe you are real until I touch you like this.”
The scrape of his stubble against my delicate skin lit fires in each breast that merged and raced toward my groin. I was wetter than the ocean had left me when he moved farther down my body and undid the tie of my bottoms with his teeth. The fabric gaped, revealing my bare mound to his gaze and the orange-pink sky.
“Una fragola così bella,” he praised, placing an open-mouthed kiss on my clit and then licking me off his lips. “E altrettanto dolce.”
Such a beautiful pussy, and just as sweet as a strawberry.
I moaned, lifting my hips to give him better access. He took control by cupping my ass and canting my pussy to his mouth as if he wanted to drink straight from the well.
He feasted just as he had promised he would if I won the race to the coast. Long, wet swipes of his tongue from the top of my clit to thefurl of my ass, again and again, until I was thrashing against the rock, shamelessly begging for more.
He obliged, twisting a finger into my aching pussy while he sucked at my clit.
My orgasm crashed over me like an errant superwave, drenching Raffa’s tongue and hand, dragging me under so that I could not see or hear the scenery, only feel the sensation of him taking me apart at the seams.
The next time, he pinned my hips to the rock with one hand, cheek resting on my inner thigh, and used his other hand to expose my clit from its hood completely, his thumb strumming back and forth gently but insistently over the bundle of nerves. My entire body jittered as if I was being slowly electrocuted by pleasure, the pressure growing into something so sharp and bright, I was almost scared of it.
“Please, Raffa,” I cried out, unsure if I wanted him to continue until the end of time or stop immediately before my heart gave out.
“Hush,piccola. You can come for me like this.Lasciati andare e inzuppa la mia mano in quella dolce crema.”
Let go and drench my hand in that sweet cream.
The sound of his filthy words in the round vowels of his accented English and purring Italian cranked the dial so high, I screamed as bolts of pleasure shot through my pussy, curling my fingers and toes until they cramped.
