7. Ophelia
Ophelia
Antonio runs the loofah over my back with slow precision, peppering my shoulders with soft kisses. He’s being so gentle with me, a direct contrast to his beastly treatment only a few minutes ago. Which I thoroughly enjoyed, by the way.
He steps closer, reaching around me to clean my front side while pressing himself against my back. I can feel the soft bristly hairs on his body, and it only reminds me that Antonio is all man.
“I think my boobs are clean,” I say after several minutes of very thorough cleaning.
“One can never be too sure,” he says, his smirk coming through in his words.
Abandoning the pink poof, he squirts some of my body wash on his hands and rubs them together to form a thick lather.
Then he massages my breasts with his bare hands, the movements sensual and unhurried.
Slick fingers pinch lightly at my nipples, drawing them into hard peaks.
I thought my body was done for the night, but my libido spikes once again under his touch.
There’s distinct hardening against my lower back, and I tilt my head to look questioningly up at him.
Antonio grins unapologetically beneath that fantastic beard. “There’s no controlling him when he’s in the presence of a beautiful woman,” he claims before lowering his mouth to mine.
Sliding his hands down my body, he parts my legs and trails his fingers up and down the insides of my thighs as the kiss grows deeper. Cupping my pussy, he caresses my clit with the slow back-and-forth movements I like. The man does know how to take direction.
“Antonio,” I groan into his mouth when the first wave of pleasure begins to wash over me.
“Eyes on me. I want to see your face when you come on my fingers,” he demands, though it’s more like a plea.
When our eyes meet and he watches the orgasm take over my body, his pink lips curve into a soft smile.
It’s not one of those explosive orgasms; it’s one that rolls outward like the tide coming in at the end of the day, almost soothing despite its intensity.
“God, Antonio…” I breathe.
“That’s it, love,” he coaxes, gentling his fingers on my sensitive bud as he works the rest of the climax from my body.
I turn in his arms, reaching down to wrap my fingers around his erection. Antonio’s head drops back against the slick tiles of the shower wall, his eyelids dropping closed. “Goddamn, Ophelia.”
“Can you go another round?” I purr, stroking him up and down, dragging my hand across the engorged veins.
He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, his reply is all action, grabbing my waist to spin me around and lift me in one swift motion. My legs go around his waist like they’re meant to be there, and in a blink, Antonio is inside me again.
We both groan at the mutual pleasure. I’m full and wanton, despite having had a very satisfying orgasm only seconds ago. Antonio covers my mouth with his as he begins to move. My hands glide up and down his back, feeling the thick muscles ripple beneath his hot skin.
This round is slower, more sensual, with none of the dirty talk like before because we don’t stop kissing long enough to speak. Even our sounds of orgasm are released into each other’s mouths.
When we’re done, we’re both wearing satisfied smiles, and my legs are like jelly. As I’m drying Antonio’s back with a fluffy white towel, I say, “I’d like you to stay the night if that’s something you’re comfortable with. If not, I totally understand.”
He turns slowly, his gaze searching my face before his lips curl into a pleased smile. “You don’t mind? I take up a lot of space.”
I tap his nose with my finger. “I don’t mind, but I’m warning you, you’re required to be my foot warmer if you sleep in my bed.”
He pretends to bite my finger. “Deal.”
Five minutes later, we climb beneath the crisp dove-gray sheets on my king-sized bed, both of us naked. I haven’t slept in the nude in years, but when Antonio spoons me from behind, I sigh in contentment.
Then I curl my knees and place my feet against his warm calves.
“Holy shite!” he yells, flinching so hard it shakes the bed. “Fecking hell, woman. Those feet could have taken down the Titanic.”
I can’t stop laughing. “My feet are always cold when I go to bed. I have no idea why because the rest of me feels comfortable.” Snuggling back against him, I rub my feet up and down his legs, and he’s heroically still, letting me do it. “But you can’t leave now because it’s part of the contract.”
“Mmm,” he hums, pressing a kiss to the back of my head. “My mum always said cold feet equal a warm heart. I think she may have been correct.”
With his big arm snugged tightly around my body, I fall asleep with a smile on my face.
***
My personal foot warmer is gone when I stretch awake the next morning, and disappointment floods my system. Did he sneak out? That notion is gone the instant the scent of frying bacon reaches my nostrils.
Slipping on a silky emerald-green robe, I make my way down the stairs to find a hulk of a man turning scrambled eggs at my stovetop. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of charcoal-gray gym shorts.
He doesn’t startle when I sneak up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, almost as if he has eyes in the back of his head. I kiss the center of his back, inhaling the masculine scent of a well-fucked man. “Well, aren’t you domesticated?”
“Morning, darlin’,” he says, reaching behind me to pat my ass. “I was trying to make you breakfast in bed.”
I rest my cheek on his back and close my eyes, reveling in how normal this feels. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“You’ve already fed me twice, so it’s the least I can do.” His thick fingers trace a path up and down my forearm as he continues to cook. “I wish I could have you over to my apartment, but…”
“But you live in the same building as Remi,” I finish.
Setting his spatula aside and taking the pans from the burners, he turns and cradles my face with both hands. “We should probably talk about last night and where we go from here.” He kisses me softly. “Because I don’t think I can let you go now that I’ve had a taste of you, Ophelia.”
My heart soars at that admission, and I lean into him. “Let’s talk while we eat.”
Antonio insists I sit while he serves me.
The round table in my breakfast nook is situated in front of a set of bay windows that look out over the lush grass and colorful flower beds in the back yard.
The first few leaves of autumn have fallen and scattered themselves like confetti across the fenced-in area.
“Here you go, love,” he says, setting a glass of chilled orange juice in front of me and kissing the top of my head.
Taking a bite of the perfectly crispy bacon, I eye the man across from me, still shirtless and with his tats on full display. His dark hair is mussed, and it only makes him sexier.
Hot man. Phenomenal sex. And he cooked me breakfast. The choice should be simple, except for…
“I’d like to see you again,” I blurt. “I know this is complicated since you work for Remi, and if that’s too much for you, I’ll understand.”
Antonio surveys me as he chews a bite of egg and swallows. “I like how straightforward you are. It’s refreshing.”
A small laugh escapes my lips. “I don’t have the energy to play silly games, Antonio. I’d rather just say what I’m thinking.”
His beard twitches, and I hold my breath. “I’d love to see you again too. Last night was amazing, Ophelia. You’re amazing.”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip, trying to hide how happy that makes me. “We can keep things casual if you want.”
Antonio’s fork stops halfway to his mouth, and his eyes narrow, darkening the color of pine trees. “I don’t share, love.”
I place a hand over his clenched fist on the tabletop, giving him a squeeze. “I didn’t mean we should see other people, Antonio.” The bunch of his shoulders relaxes immediately. “We didn’t use protection, and that’s not something I usually do.”
“So we’re exclusive but just seeing where things go?” he asks, and I nod.
“Exactly, and maybe we should keep things between us for now to avoid unnecessary drama. You might get tired of my cold feet and not want to continue seeing me,” I tease.
He takes a drink of his orange juice, green eyes sparkling over the rim before setting it down on the wooden table. “I think you’re right. About the drama thing, not the feet. I’m happy to serve as your foot warmer if you also let me warm that tight little pussy, darlin’.”
“So you use me, and I use you?” I ask, unable to disguise my smile anymore. I love how he just casually discusses my vagina at the breakfast table.
Antonio reaches across the table and swipes an errant strand of hair from my cheek. “It sounds like a fair trade to me.”
I dig into my eggs, my heart feeling lighter than it has in years because this man makes me inexplicably giddy. I’m just not sure how far this thing between us will go.