Now there’s nothing separating me from his cock, and a fresh wave of hot, nervous passion crashes over me. This is it. I’ve never been more excited to get in someone’s pants as I am now.
As I peel down his boxer briefs, Quinn watches me with the patience of a saint. I know he must be as eager as I am-the fabric at the front of his boxers is barely accommodating the most mouth-watering erection I’ve ever seen.
He shudders as I pull him out of the constraint of his boxers. He’s huge. And perfect. And so incredibly hot and solid in my hand.
Grasping him low on the shaft, I pull him toward me, feeling the length of him. I lean in, kissing him softly. With every stroke, I suck on his lower lip. The sheets tighten around my shoulders as he digs his fingers into the silk. As tension builds in his shoulders, I feel a desperation mounting to take him inside me.
His hair is a mess, a sexy fucking wondrous mess of perfect, soft locks. I dig my fingers into it, pulling his gaze from my hand on his cock to my eyes. I want him looking at me when I run my thumb over the pre-cum beading on his eager tip. Those chocolate-brown eyes shutter closed with pleasure as the broad tip of him presses against my wet underwear. The electricity that thrums through me, through us, makes us both bite our lips to silence our groans. We smile at our shared reactions.
“Tu sei il diavolo.” You’re the devil. The look of adoration in his smiling eyes tells me he thinks quite the opposite.
“Come?” I blink innocently back at him. How?
“You feel too good to be anything but peccaminoso,” he says with a sigh. Sinful. The bilingual phrasing is charming as hell. I definitely have taken a toll on this man’s concentration.
I breathe hotly against his ear. “I want you.”
He pulls my hand away from its repeated motions and places it above my head. The gesture is gentle, but is the action of a man who wants his turn.
“Bellissima, you shall have me.” He whispers this into the curve of my neck and shoulder.
Goose bumps cover my body. Rather than the confident seductress I was a moment ago, now I’m suddenly twenty-two again, at the mercy of an erotic power I’m more than happy to bend to. Quinn Kingsley can have me any way he goddamn pleases.
His lips trace down my neck, down my chest, stopping over my heaving breasts. He runs a finger over the hardened tip of my nipple, teasing.
At his touch, my back curves involuntarily. I whimper softly as the sensation runs down from my breast, straight to my pulsing core. Every time a guy touched my breasts in the past, it was like a watching a child mash potatoes with his bare hands. But this-this adoration with which he circles his finger around the sensitive tip, the sigh before he closes his lips around it-this is something else entirely.
“Perfection,” he whispers..
I have to hold back a yelp when he licks a slow, torturous circle around my nipple and then sucks it into his mouth. My hips dig into his torso, grinding against him, dying for more friction.
“So good,” I say in lazy English. “It feels so good.”
“Sei bravo.” You are good.
The Italian phrase is simple, but it nearly brings tears to my eyes. He kisses an urgent line down the skin of my belly, his hands running down my legs to peel my sopping excuse for underwear away, and his lips are back on my pussy in seconds. I’m still taken aback by the luxury of having a man want to pleasure me so desperately. He sucks on the sensitive flesh between my legs with a hum that speaks of intense enjoyment.
“Quinn…” I moan, alternating between his name and unintelligible groans. His tongue dips into my clenching, throbbing entrance, and I shudder.
My eyes flutter open and I dare to look at him, feasting on me. His gaze is pinned on me, all the while he plants deep, meaningful kisses onto my most intimate of spots. In the limo, it was sheer lust, a wild thrill of passion. In Quinn Kingsley’s bed, it’s a slow burn with each press of his lips against me.
I bend my knees, opening myself more to his needy mouth. My bare feet slide from his back to his shoulders, where they dig into the muscles there. His hands slide from my hips to beneath me, cupping my ass and tenderly lifting my lower body off the bed. Feverish, I pull at the sheets around me, unable to stop my hips from thrusting up and down in time with every suck, lave, and twirl.
Already I can feel my orgasm boiling to the surface, and a thought occurs to me. . . this time, I want him to feel me come around him. I want him to feel the ecstasy rip through me and give him the satisfaction of a job well-fucking-done.
“Mr. Kingsley,” I say on a gasp. “Would you-join-me?”
He knows exactly what I mean. With one last kiss to my quivering flesh, he lowers my pelvis back to the sheets and stands at the foot of the bed, naked and perfect. His massive erection glistens with a single dripping line of pre-cum. I want to lick it off him. I sit up, finding strength despite my dizziness. He grabs a condom from the bedside table and joins me back on the bed, kneeling between my parted knees.
“Take me,” I murmur.
With my hand on his thick, uncovered cock, I guide him where I need him. His tip rubs up and down against me, but doesn’t enter.
“I’m on the pill,” I tell him with a playful lift of my eyebrows. “I hope you’re…”
“Squeaky clean,” he says immediately.
His cock feels so hot and large between my legs, and I make a wordless sound of pleasure as he teases me with just the tip of him.
“Fuck.” He groans. “So tight.” His voice is rough, and the sound of it makes me clench around him.
Then my Italian stallion slides into me in one powerful thrust, and with just that one motion, I’m pretty sure he’s ruined me for every other man.