Chapter Seven
Antonio
She's perfect. She's amazing. She's everything. And she's laid out before me like a feast.
I want to taste her again, to feel her come apart under my tongue, to hear her scream my name until she's hoarse. But my cock is aching, a throbbing, insistent demand that I can no longer ignore.
I need to be inside her. Now.
I grab her hips and pull her up onto her knees, presenting her perfect ass to me. She moans, wiggling it again, a silent invitation that I have no intention of refusing.
I spread her cheeks, exposing her to me, and the sight of her glistening pink flesh, slick with our combined arousal, makes my cock twitch.
I position myself at the entrance to that mouth-watering pussy, my hands gripping her hips, and then I'm pushing into her, one slow, steady thrust that buries me to the hilt.
She's so wet, it's nearly frictionless. I groan, deep in my chest.
I look down at where we're joined, at my cock disappearing into her, and the sight is so fucking hot, so goddamn perfect, that I almost come right then and there.
I still for a second. Elsa looks over her shoulder at me, her eyes wide and dark, and she gives me a slow, wicked smile.
"Fuck me, Antonio," she purrs, her voice a husky, sexy rasp. "Use my pussy until it's dripping with you."
I grip her hair and pull her head back, attacking her mouth in a savage kiss. I'm so close to snapping. And it's her fault.
She is a drug, and I am already hopelessly addicted.
She breaks the kiss, gasping for air, and I take the opportunity to start moving, my hips rocking against her, my strokes long and deep.
The room is filled with the sounds of our bodies slapping together, the wet, squelching sounds of our fucking, our ragged breaths and desperate moans. It's a raw, primal soundtrack, and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.
I lean over her back. "When I saw you walk into the room tonight"—I change angles and slide deeper—"I just knew it. I knew you were going to be a problem."
She rocks back to meet me. "Problem?" she says, her voice strained. "I'm the solution."
I groan at her response, then shove her down onto the bed. I'm not gentle. I'm not sweet. I take her with a ferocity that surprises even me, a possessive urge to fill her, to take her, claim her, to make her mine in every way possible.
My hips piston into her, the sound of our bodies slapping together filling the room, a raw, primal rhythm that speaks of a need so deep, so fundamental, it borders on desperation.
Her hands are fisted in the sheets, her knuckles white, her body arching back to meet mine. She's with me every step of the way, matching my intensity, her moans growing louder, more desperate.
I want to hear her scream. I want to hear her beg. I want to hear her lose all control, to shatter in my arms, to be completely and utterly mine.
I slide my hand around her hip, finding her clit.
She tenses and screws her eyes shut. "Antonio," she screams.
"I'm going to make sure you can't walk in the morning, dolcezza," I growl against her ear, nipping her earlobe.
"Good," she gasps.
I bite her earlobe again, and she whimpers, her body trembling. I feel her start to tighten around me, her inner walls fluttering, a tell-tale sign that she's close. I rub her clit faster, harder, pushing her toward the edge.
"Come for me, Elsa," I command, my voice a low, guttural growl. "I want to feel you come all over my cock, like you did on my face, in my mouth."
That's all it takes. She shatters, a long, drawn-out scream tearing from her throat as her body convulses, her pussy clamping down on me so tight it almost hurts.
I don't stop, my hips still pistoning into her, my fingers still working her clit, drawing out her orgasm, pushing her to heights she's probably never known.
I feel my own release building, a hot, tingling sensation at the base of my spine. I try to hold it back, to make this last, but the feel of her coming around me is too much.
"Elsa," I groan, my hips thrusting one last, deep, powerful thrust.
Then I'm coming, my body shuddering as I pour myself into her, a hot, sticky flood that fills her, marks her, claims her.
I collapse on top of her, my body limp, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her back. I'm panting, my breath hot against her neck, and I can feel her trembling beneath me, her body still humming with the aftershocks of her orgasm.
We lie there for a long time, a tangled, sweaty mess of limbs, our bodies still joined, our ragged breaths the only sound in the room.
I've never felt anything like it. This connection, this intensity. It's more than just sex. It's more than just pleasure. It's… everything.
It's a while before I can manage to shift my weight and not crush her. I pull out of her slowly and roll off her, pulling her with me, so we're lying on our sides, facing each other.
Her hair is a mess, her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes, those brilliant blue eyes, are glazed over with satisfaction.
"Are you okay?" I ask, my voice rough.
She turns her head to look at me, a lazy, satisfied smile on her face. "I'm more than okay," she says, her voice sounding a little drunk. "I'm…"
She trails off, and I raise an eyebrow.
"You're what?"
"What's that word you said?"
I reach over and toy with her full bottom lip. "Incantevole. Sei incantevole."
"Yeah. That," she says lazily.
"Yes, you are. That and more."
I lean in and kiss her, a soft, gentle kiss, a stark contrast to the raw, primal fucking we just engaged in. She kisses me back, her tongue sweeping into my mouth, a slow, sensual dance that sends a fresh wave of desire through me.
I don't know how she does it. How she can be so fierce and strong one moment, and so soft and vulnerable the next. It's a contradiction, a paradox, and I find it utterly captivating.
When we break apart, she rests her forehead against mine, her breath warm on my face.
"I'm hungry," she murmurs.
I chuckle, a low, rumbling sound. "That's not surprising. We burned a lot of calories."
She pulls back and looks at me, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Are you offering to feed me?"
"I might be persuaded," I say, my fingers tracing a pattern on her shoulder. "What are you in the mood for?"
"You," she says, her voice a husky whisper. "Again."
My body responds instantly, my cock stirring, already half-hard. I groan, and she smiles, a slow, wicked smile that tells me she knows exactly what she's doing to me.
"I think we need actual food," I say, forcing myself to be responsible. "We need to rehydrate, replenish."
"Fine," she sighs, but her eyes are still sparkling. "But after that, I'm having you for dessert."
"I think I can handle that," I say, my voice thick with desire.
She sits up, and I watch her, my eyes feasting on her. The way the moonlight hits her skin, the curve of her back, the swell of her breasts, as she lifts her arms above her head and stretches. She's a work of art, a masterpiece of feminine beauty, and I can't believe she's here, in my bed.
"Your back," I say, my gaze fixed on the delicate curve of her spine.
"What about it?" she says, turning to look at me over her shoulder.
"It's beautiful," I say, my voice husky.
A slow blush creeps up her neck, a surprising and endearing reaction from a woman who seems so sure of herself, so in control.
"It's just a back," she says, but she sounds pleased.
"It's not just a back," I say, sitting up and reaching for her. I pull her back against my chest, my arms wrapping around her waist. "It's your back. And it's beautiful."
I press a soft kiss to the nape of her neck, and she shivers, leaning into me. I trail my lips down her spine, a slow, deliberate path of kisses that makes her breath catch.
"You're good at that," she murmurs, her head falling back against my shoulder.
"I'm good at a lot of things," I whisper in her ear. "But I'm best at what I enjoy the most."
I continue my exploration of her back, my lips and tongue tasting, teasing, worshipping. I can feel her body responding, her breathing growing ragged, her muscles tensing with anticipation.
I want to take her again, right here, right now. I want to bury myself inside her and lose myself in her, to forget everything else but the feel of her skin against mine, the sound of her moans in my ears, the taste of her on my tongue.
But I know I can't. Not yet.
I pull away, and she makes a small sound of protest, but I force myself to my feet. "Come on. Let's get you fed."
I go to the drawer and pull out a pair of silk pajama bottoms, the cool fabric a welcome relief against my overheated skin. I pull out the matching shirt and hand it to her.
"As much as it pains me to cover a work of art such as this," I say, gesturing to her naked form, "we probably should put on some clothes."
She looks at the shirt in her hand, then back at me, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her face. "Why?"
I groan, my body already responding to her challenge. "I don't think room service would appreciate the show as much as I do. Then again, they probably would. Then I'd have to kill them."
She tips her head back and laughs, sending those beautiful breasts dancing. "Elsa, if you keep looking like that, we're never leaving this bed."
"Promises, promises," she says, her voice a husky, teasing purr. But she puts the shirt on, and I almost regret it. The white silk is a stark contrast against her tanned skin, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that's almost more tantalizing than her being completely naked.
"What do you want?" I ask, my eyes feasting on her.
"Surprise me," she says, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Ah, a challenge," I say. "I like a challenge."
I pick up the phone and order enough food for a small army, a feast of local delicacies and international favorites, a celebration, a tribute, an offering to the goddess in my bed.
While we wait, I pour her a glass of water from the minibar and watch her drink it. Her throat moves as she swallows, and I have to fight the urge to trace the path of the water with my tongue.
"How's that?" I ask, my voice husky.
"Better," she says, setting the glass down. "I was... thirsty."
"I bet you were."
She blushes again, a delicate pink that creeps up her neck and stains her cheeks. I find it endearing, a glimpse of vulnerability beneath the cool, composed exterior she presents to the world.
I take her hand and pull her toward the sitting area. "Come on. Let's get comfortable before the food arrives."
I sit on the sofa and pull her down next to me, settling her against my side. She fits perfectly, her head on my shoulder, her body warm and soft against mine. I wrap my arm around her, my fingers tracing a pattern on her arm.
This. This is what I've been missing. Not just the sex, not just the physical release, but this. The quiet intimacy, the easy companionship, the feeling of coming home.
"What are you thinking?" she asks, her voice a soft murmur against my chest.
I smile. "I'm thinking that you're dangerous."
"Dangerous?" she repeats, tilting her head to look at me. "How so?"
"You make me want things I shouldn't want," I say, my fingers toying with the ends of her hair.
"Like what?"
"Like this," I say, my voice low. "Like you. Again."
She shifts, turning to face me, her knees pressing against my thigh. "Then why are you resisting?"
"Because I'm trying to be a gentleman," I say, but the words sound weak, even to my own ears.
She laughs, a soft, musical sound that does strange things to my heart. "Antonio, I don't think 'gentleman' is the word I would use to describe you."
"No?" I say, my ego pricked. "What word would you use?"
"Insatiable," she says, her eyes dark with desire. "Relentless. Predatory."
I growl, a low, guttural sound that I can't contain. "You have no idea."
She leans in, her lips a breath away from mine. "Show me."
I close the distance, my lips crashing down on hers. The kiss is raw, hungry, a desperate need to taste her, to consume her, to lose myself in her. Her arms wrap around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss.
I'm lost, completely and utterly lost in her, in the taste of her, in the feel of her, in the sheer, unadulterated pleasure of being with her.
A sharp, knock on the door breaks the spell.
We pull apart, both of us breathing heavily, our foreheads pressed together. "Fuck," I mutter.
Elsa laughs, a breathless, husky sound. "I think that's our food."
"Yeah," I say, reluctantly pulling away from her. "I'll get it. Don't move."
I stand and adjust myself, trying to discreetly tame my erection. I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself, to regain some semblance of control before I open the door.
It's no use. The sight of her, lounging on my sofa in my shirt, her hair a mess, her lips swollen from my kisses, her eyes dark with desire, is enough to undo me all over again.
"Antonio," she says, her voice a husky purr. "The door."
"Right," I say, tearing my eyes away from her. "The door."
I walk to the door, my movements stiff, awkward. I take another deep breath, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. I open the door to a young man in a crisp, white uniform, a cart laden with covered dishes beside him.
He gives me a polite, professional smile. "Your room service, sir."
"Bring it in," I say, my voice rougher than I intended.
Then I think of him walking in and seeing the woman on the sofa, and a wave of possessiveness washes over me, a primal urge to shield her from prying eyes, to keep her all to myself.
I stop the cart with a hand.
"On second thought, I've got it," I say.
"Yes, Mr. Conti," he quietly. "Just ring when you'd like us to remove it."
He steps back, nods his head, and leaves.
I pull the cart into the room and push it over to the sofa, my eyes never leaving Elsa's. She's watching me, her head tilted, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.
"Insatiable," she says again, her voice a low, sultry murmur.
"You have no idea," I repeat, and then I'm on her again, my hands on her waist, pulling her up, my lips finding hers in a desperate, hungry kiss.
She melts against me, her body pliant, her mouth opening under mine, her tongue tangling with mine in a slow, sensual dance.
I break the kiss, my forehead resting against hers. "We need to eat."
"We do," she agrees, her breath warm on my face. "But I'm still wearing too many clothes."
I look down at the silk shirt that's doing a poor job of hiding her perfect body, and my cock twitches in response. "So you are," I murmur.