“Erin…” He lifted her like a chalice, sipping from her body as if it were the holy sacrament.
Other men had, of course, done this to her before, but never with the attention Giovanni was giving her now. He worshipped her, anointing every sensitive inch of her skin with kisses, and whispering secrets against her flesh as intimately as a man prays to God.
“Jesus, I can’t get enough of you.”
He dropped his knees to the floor, pulling her to the edge of the bed. The blankets disappeared and he cupped her ass, lifting her closer to his seeking tongue and soft lips.
No one had ever done this to her with such devotion to her pleasure. He wasn’t after an orgasm. He touched her for the sheer ecstasy of it—hers and his. He made her head swim and her heart pound.
The pleasure became too much and she scooted away, only to have him catch her ankle and haul her back to him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I can’t… It’s too much…”
“You can.” He delved between her thighs, licking and nibbling, teasing and soothing.
Her body tightened like a coil that wouldn’t hold. She was going to snap, but not in a pretty way. When his tongue drifted even lower, her spine stiffened. “Wait!”
He chuckled as if he liked teasing her, making her worry over the level of intimacy he might push.
She licked her dry lips, her lungs tight and unable to draw in a full breath. She was thirsty, hungry, empty, needy…
He pressed another finger inside of her and she moaned. His lips closed over her flesh and pulled in soft little suckles. She couldn’t take it.
Meaning to shove him away, she reached for his head, but when her fingers forked through his thick dark hair he moaned against her sex and she came.
It wasn’t with the rushed, darting accuracy she experienced when she touched herself. Nor was it with the dull, tentativeness she shared with past lovers. This was different. Deeper. Longer. It went beyond her trembling muscles and resonated in her chest, dislodging something, and cramming her throat full of uncomfortable emotions she couldn’t let out.
But he wasn’t finished. His satisfied smile pressed against her skin as he licked her. Her cries filled the room, building and growing until she came again.
She hadn’t noticed him strip off his shirt, but when she looked down at him, his shoulders were bare. A surprising amount of muscle shaped his arms and chest.
He trailed his lips to her thigh, to her hip, and circled the sharp point of her nipple with his devilish tongue. She was unprepared when he kissed her on the mouth, sharing her flavor and groaning as if they were tasting something heavenly together. It was one of the most erotic kisses of her life and when he pulled away, she was breathless.
He flopped to his back and stretched, folding his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling.
What the hell? Were they done? Was he waiting for her to finish him?
She glanced at the bulge in his briefs and quickly looked away, shoving her T-shirt back over her chest and covering her lower body with a pillow.
“Hand me my drink,” he said, letting out a long, satisfied sigh.
She grabbed the half-drunk bottle of soda and passed it to him.
He took it, guzzling the rest of the cocktail down. “You’ve got some catching up to do.”
She scowled at him, thinking that was his way of asking for a blowjob, but then he handed her the bottle that held her cocktail and she realized he’d been referring to her soda bottle.
“Drink up.”
She took several sips, welcoming the refreshing liquid as it soothed her dry throat and needing a shot of the numbing alcohol hidden inside.
“You have really nice tits.”
She flinched at the crassness of his words. “Uh… Thanks?”
Startling her, he rolled to his side and pushed her shirt back up, as if he now had an open invitation to touch her. He plumped her breasts together and grinned.
“Beautiful.” He popped her nipple into his mouth and sucked it into a hard point as if giving out chef kisses or something. “I love how they look in my hands.” He kissed the other one, sucking the tip and pulling away with the same satisfied grin.
Her brow pinched. No one had ever behaved like this with her before. There was no bravado about him, no smooth game or façade. He touched her for the simple pleasure and fascination of it.
Leaning down, he blew raspberries on her stomach and she couldn’t help the squeal of laughter that ripped out of her.
Then she sobered and she shoved him away. “What are you doing?”
Appearing startled by her response, he shrugged. “Just…playing with you.”
She reached for the sheet, unsure why his playfulness bothered her so much. “I’m not a toy.”