Page 36 of Rosetti Family New York
The thought sends a wild thrill through me, and my body screams for more. I feel greedy and wicked, ready to let him swallow me whole. My fingers begin to move, almost by themselves, tracing the wild tattoos inked across his arms. They twist and pulse over every muscle, like they’re alive. Like they can barely be contained. I want to feel them under my hands, against my skin. His abs are impossibly hard, and I follow the lines of them, teasing my way across his stomach, feeling him shiver under my touch. I want to drive him crazy. I want to make him lose control like I am. I want him to know I’m not done with him, not even close.
I jump into his arms, legs around his waist, my skirt bunched around my hips. I rock against him just once, slow and deliberate, until he groans. I am shameless, and I love it.
“Still want more?” he says, grinning.
I nod, too breathless for words.
He unzips his pants, pulling out his cock, and I whimper.
“Fuck,” he says, looking at me like he’s starving. He pushes me back against the tree, rough and wild, and thrusts into me. I am out of my mind. I love it. “Eleanor,” he groans, biting my neck.
I cling to him, wrapping my legs around his waist. I want all of him. I want him to ruin me.
We are frantic and out of control, desperate and raw. I lose myself in him. He is inside me, big and demanding, and I don’t care about anything else.
“God,” he breathes, slamming into me. “You’re so fucking wet.”
I dig my nails into his shoulders and meet his thrusts, wanting him to break me. Wanting him to see every piece.
I’ve never wanted anything like this.
Each thrust is brutal and wild, taking over my body. His hips slam into me, his cock big and relentless in my pussy. I cry out and cling to him like he's my lifeline, the only thing holding me together. Everything in me screams for him. His hand grips my ass, holding me up, supporting my weight, driving me higher. His other hand is all over my body, greedy and possessive. He grabs my tits, squeezing until I gasp, and I push myself harder against him, wanting to feel every inch. He is strong and dangerous and safe all at once.
I am out of my mind, wanting nothing but Leonardo Rosetti. I wrap myself around him, desperate and shameless, rocking against each thrust like a woman possessed. His fingers dig into my skin, and I love how rough he is with me. I love knowing he can't hold back. He needs me.
I hold onto him, losing myself in how fierce he is, how sexy he is, how much I can't resist him. He's inside me, and it feels too good. Like I’m meant to be here, exactly like this, wrapped around him and out of control.
It’s like flying. Like burning. I cling to him with everything I have. I am greedy as hell, shameless as hell, wanting him so bad it hurts. I rock against him, taking him deeper. He is all I feel, all I want.
We are heat and sweat and the taste of skin. We are ragged breaths and frantic hands, and my world spins until I can’t breathe.
I shudder around him, out of control and explosive, and I know he feels it. He curses, and I am coming, screaming his name and losing my mind. I cry out, free and wild and alive.
He thrusts into me, holding my hips so tight it hurts. He lets out a ragged moan, biting down on my neck, and he comes inside me.
We are raw and out of breath and tangled up, and it is perfect.
He leans his head against mine, his hair damp with sweat. I touch his cheek, and my fingers are shaking.
“You’re not running this time,” he says, breathless and sure.
“I’m not running,” I agree. My voice is shaky and full of the truth.
He kisses me, and I taste smoke and heat. Exactly what I need.
18
Leonardo
She looks wrecked. Soft and sprawled on the grass, her clothes disheveled. Her skin is flushed, the parts I can see are bare and breathtaking. A leaf falls from a tree and flutters onto her belly. I watch it with something like hunger, wanting her all over again. She's breathing hard.
I am spent, sated. But I know that’s a fucking lie, that I will never have enough of this woman. I zip my pants and drag her skirt down her thighs, then lift her into my arms. Her head tips back, but she is too much of a spitfire to be truly limp. Her chest rises and falls against mine as I take her inside.
This place doesn’t fit her. Hard lines and empty surfaces. My brothers like it that way, but Eleanor is too delicate for all the sharp edges. Too warm and soft. She’s like a marshmallow on mars. Priceless. Her eyes are closed, lips parted, breathing like she’s asleep. But I can feel her there, simmering beneath her skin, defiant even when she lets me carry her. She’s light as air, but I’ve never been more aware of someone in my fucking life.
I push open the door to our room, put her on the bed, and watch as she falls against the sheets. Her skirt rides up herthighs. She's soft and boneless after her orgasm, but still my wild girl. I feel like I’ve won and lost a battle at the same time. I unbutton the waist, drag the fabric of her skirt down her legs, slide her panties off too, and look at her splayed on the bed. My bride. My fucking obsession. Her skin is golden, smooth. I want to mark every inch of it as mine.
“Come to bed,” she murmurs sleepily.
