Page 68 of Prosecco with My Professor
I stretch up and kiss her. “I’ve been thinking about licking that pretty figa ever since the last time you came on my tongue. No, since the very first time I tasted you. Ergo,” I say, and she laughs. “I get my wish first.”
“If we’re going all the way back,” she starts, “then—ughm.”
I lick straight up her pussy, and her head rolls back, words forgotten. I slide my tongue up and down, using my hands on her thighs to spread her apart and worship her. This time, it doesn’t take as long for her to be squirming and panting, restlessly kicking at the sheets. I take the bud of her clit into my mouth and suck. I’m rewarded with her thighs clenching around my head, and within a few minutes, she’s crying out my name, pulsing against my tongue and I’m licking up all of her sweet juices.
When she goes limp, I pull back with one soft kiss on her thigh. “Still want to fuck, piccola?” I ask.
“Oh god, yes,” she says without hesitation, and I rise and pad over to my luggage, digging out condoms and lube. I toss the closed bottle of the latter on the bed and rip open the former, rolling it down my shaft.
Emma’s legs fall open again as I kneel between them. I hook one arm under her knee, spreading her open and using the other hand to guide myself in. She’s still slick from her orgasm, and I pump slowly, in and then out a bit and in a little bit more until I bottom out.
Looking up, Emma’s cheeks and chest are all flushed a brilliant soft pink. Her rosebud of a mouth is slightly parted, and those beautiful eyes watch me.
I lean down, pressing my hand into the mattress above her shoulder, and kiss her. I match the strokes of my cock inside of her with my tongue until I have to back away to breathe. Through barely open eyes, I watch Emma; her eyelids are closed in pleasure. She said she didn’t think she could come on my cock, and I had hoped to switch up to some way that we could stimulate her clit too, but the urge at the base of my spine is telling me there’s no time. I’ll have to spend the rest of the weekend figuring out how to do that because right now, an enraged bull couldn’t stop me from finishing.
I thrust harder, knocking a cry out of Emma. One of her hands grips my forearm where I’m braced against the bed, the other slides over my ribs. After a few more moments of her mewing, I take one last thrust deep inside of her, and shudder out my orgasm.
35
Emma
Santo collapses next to me.We’re both breathing hard, my body still fluttering and wonderfully satiated, even though I didn’t orgasm with the penetration.
I glance over at Santo. His hair is disheveled, and he has two spots of color on his cheeks that I’ve never seen before. Despite the chill in the air, we broke a sweat, and the combination of that and the scents of our arousal and clean sheets is heady.
Santo turns his head to look at me, and slowly, both our smiles bloom. He rolls toward me, palm slipping over the curve of my belly to settle on my hip. “Would you like to clean up first?”
I groan and theatrically drag myself out of bed, leaving Santo behind chuckling. I flip the light on in the bathroom and glance back. The bedroom is softly lit, so the light from the bathroom casts a bright spotlight on the bed, which feels poignant.
At the head of the bed in the shadows, I can barely make out Santo’s eyes on my body. Feeling saucy—a new feeling! When was the last time I was saucy?—I jut out a hip before closing the door.
When we switch places, I pull the sheet up to my armpits and prop myself up on the headboard and look around.
His villa is beyond what I’d imagined. It’s somehow rustic and classy, ironically reminding me of the refurbished items we sold at Second Chances. I know nothing about real estate in Italy, but this must be an expensive place. It’s also huge. The common areas are large and vaulted, and Santo told me there are four bedrooms.
And I know Santo comes from money. I pull the covers up further. It’s early, and we haven’t eaten yet, so I doubt we are going to sleep, but the bed is comfortable, and I am loath to leave this room.
Santo must feel the same because he slides back into bed after he’s done in the restroom.
“I Googled you,” I blurt.
Santo freezes for a moment and then relaxes next to me. “You Googled me?” he echoes.
“Yeah. Sorry, I felt weird not telling you I know about your family business now and the, um…”
“Money?” he guesses.
“Yeah.” I shift to face him. “You told me about your dad’s affair.”
Santo sighs. “Yes. But I think this conversation requires a drink. Would you like more Prosecco?”
Oooh, post-sex bubbly. “Yes, please.”
Santo walks out of the room buck naked and returns a minute or so later with two refilled glasses of wine. He settles back into bed, and we clink glasses. The wine is light and crisp and very good after a round of hot sex.
“Is Prosecco your favorite?” Santo asks. “It occurs to me I keep bringing you more and you may not like it so much. Do you have a wine you like better?”
I shake my head. “You’re right. Prosecco is my favorite. I mean, out of what I’ve tried, I guess, which isn’t much.” Our shoulders are lightly brushing, almost tickling me, so I lean against Santo a bit, pressing our upper arms firmly together. “My ex-in-laws once bought us a nice bottle of champagne. It had a yellow label, but I forget the brand, like Vu-something-something?—”
