Page 100 of Ache for You (Slow Burn 3)
He tastes like spices and wine and something indefinable that’s all him, that mysterious, masculine drug his tongue is laced with. Off balance, I stumble back a step. My butt jostles the dresser and the fork clatters off the plate, but his mouth demands all my attention. As I cling to his biceps, he sinks his hands into my hair.
This kiss is harder than the one last night. More sexual. It’s a kiss that says clearly I want to do bad things to you, and my body responds as if he’s said it out loud.
My nipples harden. My breasts feel heavy and begin to ache. That restless burn starts between my legs, made hotter by Matteo flexing his hips against mine so his hardness is trapped between us, nudging so close to where I need him most.
I break away, worried about the open door and the thought of Mommy Dearest peering in, but Matteo doesn’t let me go. We stand chest to chest, crotch to crotch, breathing hard and gripping each other, staring deep into each other’s eyes.
My God. This man. He makes the word sexy inadequate.
He pulls my head back and inhales deeply against my throat. His cheek is hot and scratchy against my skin. When he nuzzles his nose into my hair, the rough scrape of stubble on his jaw raises a rash of goose bumps on my arms.
He says gruffly, “Tell me what you just thought that made you tremble.”
“I want to feel that rough jaw on the inside of my thighs.”
I don’t realize I’ve said it aloud until Matteo turns to Cornelia and orders her out of the room. He follows her to the door and closes it behind her, then walks slowly back to me at the dresser, where I’m barely managing to hold myself up.
Without a word, he sinks to his knees on the carpet in front of me and pushes my dress up my bare thighs.
I only have time to squeak his name in shock before he puts his face between my legs. He inhales deeply there, too, makes a hungry sound in his chest, then opens his mouth and bites me through my panties.
Right. There.
It’s not hard. It doesn’t hurt. It’s more like a mark of ownership, like This is mine, and I’ll do anything to it that I want. It’s so unexpected and utterly sexy I can’t help but exhale a soft moan.
Matteo opens his eyes and gazes up at me as I stare down at him. The look in his eyes is so dark, so dangerous, it makes my heart pound. Keeping his gaze locked on mine, he slowly rubs his jaw along my inner thigh, chafing it with his stubble, then turns his head and presses a kiss to the same spot. When the tip of his tongue snakes out and licks my skin, a wave of
heat engulfs my entire body.
He turns his head to my other thigh, rubs his jaw over it, kisses it, and licks it as he did on the other side. Only now he’s using his hand, too, stroking his thumb over the naked flesh next to the edge of my panties, pinching it gently, testing it and learning its firmness, how it feels under his fingers and his teeth.
His erection makes a thick bulge down one leg of his trousers. My nipples are so hard they jut straight through the bodice of my dress, two taut points of sensation screaming for attention from the hot, wet pleasure of his mouth.
“Spread your legs.” He runs the tip of his nose up and down the damp spot on the front of my underwear. When I don’t obey him, he shakes his head and tsks.
Then he opens his mouth and suckles my throbbing clit right through my panties.
I suck in a hard breath, my back stiffening, my eyes wide. This is so wrong, but it feels so right that all I want to do is grind my crotch into his face and let him make me come, just like this, dirty and quick.
He says something in Italian, his voice guttural, his eyes burning. Then he’s up on his feet in a blinding-fast move. He drags me against him so my breasts are smashed against the hard expanse of his chest. He kisses me again, so forcefully it bends me back at the waist.
He cups my head in one hand and caresses my breast with the other, squeezing the fullness of it in his palm, stroking and pinching my aching nipple through the fabric. When I groan into his mouth, he shoves the plate of food aside and lifts me onto the dresser.
My dress is bunched up around my thighs. My legs are open around his hips. My brain blinks offline, so now it’s nothing but sensation.
His fingers slide like butter through the buttons on the front of my dress. I’m exposed to him in seconds, flushed skin and rapid breathing, a pink bra that’s no match for his expert hands. The clip is in the front. He finds the way of it without even breaking away from my mouth, and my breasts spill out into his hands.
When he pinches both my nipples, I arch and shudder, whimpering. He lowers his dark head to one of my breasts and sucks a hard nipple into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing. I dig my fingernails into his shoulders, gasping. Lost.
He moves to my other breast, licking and sucking, murmuring in English and Italian as I pant and writhe against him, my head thrown back and my eyes closed.
“Look at you.”
“So sweet.”
“Cosi perfetta.”
“Il mio perfetta dolci amore.”
