Page 67 of Prosecco with My Professor
There’s a scrape of teeth, and then he sucks, and I feel it all the way down to my toes, which curl in my flats. I squeeze my thighs together, and the seam of my jeans is my new favorite thing.
Santo pulls back, keeping his arm around my waist. All I can do is pant.
Fuck recency bias. I’m pretty confident I’ve never felt like this before.
Santo’s eyes are dark, pupils dilated, and the brown of his irises is lost in the dimming light. The sky is deepening to shades of blue, shadows emerging in the harsh light that shines on us from inside.
Santo doesn’t take his eyes off me as he lifts the wine to his lips and swallows the rest of it. He places the empty glass on an old barrel that doubles as a table.
“Emma,” he rasps. “Do you want your wine?”
I blink and stare at my wine glass like I’ve never seen it before. Liquid courage, but I don’t know that I need it. “No,” I tell him.
Santo sets the wine glass down next to his and tangles his hand with mine, tugging me toward the indoors.
34
Santo
With Emma’s huge,sweet eyes looking up at me, I recognize that I’m making a mistake already. This weekend will be unlike any other I’ve ever had, not the rush of young love and hectic schedules or the slow consideration of dating a woman with a child or the immediacy of a one-night stand, but a seduction. I can see it in Emma’s face, how ripe and eager she is for it as I shift her long gray hair over her shoulder and trace a finger down the edge of her blouse.
She already drives me wild, and this possessiveness that surges through me when I look at her makes me wonder how no one else has seen it.
I bend my head and kiss her clavicle, then scrape my teeth along it. It’s one of the few places she isn’t all lush and soft curves, and the contrast of it against the curve of her hip in my hand makes me want to kiss every inch of her, discover where she’s soft and those hidden places where she isn’t.
Stomach. The soft crook where her arm meets her torso. The fold where ass meets thigh.
Elbows. Knuckles. Ankles.
“Santo,” she whispers, a hitch in her voice. I remember myself and ease away, lightly running kisses over where I’ve left teeth marks.
“Shit, I’m sorry?—”
Emma grabs my head, her fingers twining through my hair, and lowers my head back down. “I liked it,” she pants.
Instead of biting again, I smooth the skin with my lips, and in response, Emma’s hips thrust against mine. I snake one hand down to her ass, savoring the roughness of the jeans against my palm until I can cup one cheek. She’s tense, her body clenched and pulsing against nothing.
I can give her something to press against.
Reaching further, I slide my fingers between her legs from behind. The angle is challenging, and she has to rise to her tiptoes, but it’s worth it when I feel the heat of her core through the thick material, her thighs squeezing together and her body instinctively rubbing against my hand.
I bend down to chest level, and I nuzzle the valley between her breasts while Emma grinds. She’s still gripping my hair, not guiding me but grounding her. My erection, mostly ignored, strains against my pants.
Emma gives such a hard thrust we both wobble, and she lands back on her heels with a jerk. “Santo,” she pants. “Bed.”
I straighten and tug her hand, leading her back to the master bedroom. Earlier, I’d turned on the lamps, which cast a soft, warm light around the room. I shed my jacket and shoes, going for efficiency instead of sensuality. Emma seems to agree because I’ve barely gotten a shoe off before her top is flying over her head and landing on her suitcase in a heap.
Emma’s naked first and strips the bedding back before crawling in. The sight of her on her hands and knees ensures that if I wasn’t hard already, I would be. I tuck my thumbs in the waistband of my black briefs and slip them off, tossing them somewhere in the same direction as the rest of my clothes.
Placing a knee on the bed, I grab one of Emma’s ankles and tug it, spreading her legs open for me. Ever since she came on my mouth ages ago, I’ve been wanting to do it again. Knowing that I’ve pleasured her better than any other man gives me a deep sense of satisfaction.
“Santo, can you please just fuck me.”
I stop staring at her cunt and meet her eyes. “Are you going to be able to come on my cock?”
Her eyelids flutter, and her ankle tugs my hand as she tries to squeeze her thighs together. I don’t think she even knows she’s doing it.
“Probably not,” she admits. “But I really need you.” It ends on a whine. “I’ve been thinking about that ever since you suggested we go away together.” Her cheeks, already flushed a pretty pink, darken. “Well, that’s not true. It’s been a lot longer than that.”
