Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty Four
Elsa
My body is a live wire. Every nerve ending is buzzing with an electric current that seems to originate from Antonio.
He straightens, and I watch, mesmerized, as he fists his cock and presses the tip between my breasts. I press my breasts together, creating a tight, slick channel for him, and I look up at him, watching the pleasure wash over his face as he begins to move.
"Fuck," he groans, long and loud. "That feels so fucking good."
The friction is exquisite. I can feel the smooth, hard length of him against my sensitive skin, and it sends sparks flying through me.
"You like that? Fucking me like this?" I ask, my voice a husky whisper. "Your cock is so big and hard; it feels amazing between my tits."
"God, yes," he says, his hips rocking faster. "You look so beautiful on your knees for me."
His words give me a jolt of pure lust, arrowed straight to my pussy.
I love this. I love the power, the submission, the raw, primal intimacy of it.
I love the way he looks at me, like I'm a goddess, a siren, a creature of pure sex.
The way I can make him lose control with just a touch, a look, a few well-chosen words.
And I love the way he can do the same to me.
I love the way he looks at me, like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
My pussy is clenching, desperate for attention, but both hands are busy with my breasts. And I wouldn’t stop this for anything.
He picks up speed, his movements becoming more powerful, more demanding, and I watch, captivated, as the head of his cock appears and disappears with every thrust.
I lean forward, my tongue darting out to lick the head of his cock every time it emerges from my cleavage. He groans, his hands bracing against the wall on either side of my head as his hips fuck faster into the slick channel of my breasts.
I keep licking him, tasting the salty pre-come that leaks from the tip, and I can feel him getting closer. His body is taut, the muscles in his stomach clenched, and a fine sheen of sweat coats his skin.
"You have no idea how good that feels, sporcacciona," he rasps. "No idea."
I have no idea what that means, but it makes me feel dirty, sexy, and adored all at once.
I love it.
He’s panting, the rhythm of his hips becoming erratic. I can feel him getting closer.
I press my breasts tighter around him, increasing the friction, and he cries out, a raw, ragged sound.
"God, Elsa," he gasps. "I'm going to come."
"Do it," I command seductively. "Come for me, Antonio. All over me."
With a final, guttural groan, he does.
Hot, thick streams of cum paint my chest, my neck. And my face—my chin, my lips, my cheeks, and into my open mouth, where I try to catch what I can, savoring the taste of him.
It's filthy.
It's decadent.
It's perfect.
I keep my breasts pressed around him as he rides out his orgasm, his body shuddering, his eyes locked on me, watching me wear his mark. When he's finally spent, he leans against the wall above me on his forearms, breathing heavily.
I lean forward and wrap my lips around the head of his cock one last time. I lick him clean, and he shudders, a full-body tremor.
When I'm done, I look up at him, a smug, satisfied smile on my face.
I use my fingers to scoop up the cum on my chin, then bring them to my lips and lick them clean, my eyes locked on his the entire time, savoring the taste of the raw, masculine flavor that is purely Antonio. I feel like a wanton hussy.
I expect him to smile, to make a joke, something to break the spell of raw lust that’s engulfed us.
Instead, he looks at me with an expression that is so intense it makes my breath catch. His eyes are dark, fathomless pools of desire, and there's something else there too, something that looks a lot like awe.
"You are..."
He doesn't finish the sentence. He just shakes his head, a slow, disbelieving motion.
He sinks to his knees in front of me, the water still streaming over us, washing away the remnants of his pleasure from my face since the shield of his body standing over me is no longer there.
He cups my face in his hands, but doesn't say anything.
He just looks at me, and the look in his eyes is so much more than lust. It's reverence. It's adoration. It's… everything.
Then he leans in and kisses me.
It's not a hard, demanding kiss. It's not a soft, sweet kiss. It's a kiss that's full of all the things we haven't said, all the things it's too soon for me to say.
It's a kiss that says, You are mine.
And I kiss him back with everything I have, because the truth is, I've been his from the moment I laid eyes on him.
The kiss deepens, a slow, languid exploration that's intimate and heartbreaking.
"Elsa," he whispers. "Are you okay? I mean, I wasn't intending on..." He gestures vaguely at my face. "Coming on you like that. That got away from me."
The apology is so earnest, so genuinely concerned, that my heart does a funny little flip-flop. This man, who moments ago was a commanding god of sex, is now worried he's offended me.
I can't help the laugh that bubbles out of me, but it ends on a hitch—almost a sob.
"Antonio," I say, my voice soft. I reach up and run my fingers through his wet hair. "I'm more than okay." I smile. "I'm perfect. That was... perfect." I'm breathless, and I'm not sure if it's from the sex or the emotion, but it's heady and intense.
He looks at me for a long moment, as if he's trying to see into my soul, and then a slow, brilliant smile spreads across his face. The relief I see there is tangible.
"You are perfect," he agrees, then, "I'm going to make you come now."
My heart stutters at the words. It seems so simple, like a gentle, caring act after such raw, aggressive passion. A shift in the dynamic that feels as natural as breathing.
He rises, pulling me up with him, and presses my back against the warm, tiled wall. He kisses me again, deep and possessive, and then he's trailing kisses down my throat, over my collarbone, down to my breasts.
He takes a nipple in his mouth, and I gasp, my back arching, pushing my breast deeper into his hot, wet mouth. His tongue swirls around the sensitive peak, and I feel a jolt of pure pleasure shoot straight to my pussy.
He pays the same loving attention to my other breast, and then he's on his knees in front of me, looking up at me with those dark, intense eyes.
"Antonio," I whisper, my hands tangling in his hair. "You don't have to. I'm okay."
He doesn't even give me a chance to finish.
"I want to," he says, his voice a low, possessive growl. "I need to."
I'm a trembling, wanting mess.
And then he licks me.
One long, slow stroke from my entrance to my clit.
I cry out, my hips bucking, and he holds me steady, his hands firm on my thighs, as he does it again. And again. Licking me with a focused intensity that has me spiraling toward the edge of a cliff.
"More," I gasp, my head falling back against the wall. "Please, Antonio. More."
He responds by sucking my clit into his mouth, and my vision goes blurry. He devours me, his tongue and lips and teeth working in perfect concert to drive me wild. He licks, he sucks, he nibbles, and I am lost.
I can feel the pressure building, a coiling heat in my stomach that threatens to consume me. My legs start to tremble, and I can feel the orgasm building, a tidal wave of pleasure that's about to crash over me.
"Don't stop," I pant, my fingers tightening in his hair. "Please don't stop."
He doesn't. He doubles down, his movements becoming more insistent, more demanding, and then he slides two fingers inside me, curling them to find that magical spot.
And that's it.
I explode.
A scream rips from my throat as the orgasm tears through me, a violent, beautiful storm that leaves me gasping and shaking. He doesn't stop, though. He works me through it, drawing out my pleasure until I'm a quivering, sobbing mess.
When it's finally over, he rises, and I slump against him, my body boneless, my legs barely able to hold me up.
He wraps his arms around me, holding me close, and I bury my face in his chest, my body still trembling with the aftershocks.
"You okay?" he murmurs, his lips brushing against my hair. I feel his hard cock brush my hip.
I cup his cheeks and bring his lips to mine for a deep, languid kiss. "I need you inside me. Make us one again."
He groans into my mouth, and with a desperate urgency, he lifts me, pressing me back against the tile in a display of effortless strength that makes my head spin
My legs wrap around his waist, my arms around his neck. His breath is a ragged pant against my ear. In a single, fluid thrust, he's inside me.
A collective gasp escapes us both.
The stretch is exquisite. The feeling of him, so deep, so right, is a balm to my soul.
He doesn't move. He just holds me, buried to the hilt, and we breathe together, our foreheads pressed together, the water cascading over us.
It's an intimacy that's more overwhelming than the most frenzied coupling.
A silent acknowledgement that this is more than just sex. That this is something else entirely.
Something terrifying.
And something wonderful.
"Antonio," I whisper, and run my lips over his face, peppering his skin with kisses. "This is crazy. I know it's crazy." I say the words between kisses as he pumps in and out of me slowly. "We've only known each other a few weeks..."
He takes my lips in a long, drawn-out kiss as he fills me over and over, completing me. I moan into his mouth, my hips rocking to meet his.
"You've felt it too, then," he murmurs against my lips.
My heart is beating so fast I'm afraid it might burst out of my chest. "Since that first night. I feel like some kind of psycho, obsessed. What the fuck did you do to me?" I sob against his skin. I tilt my hips, driving him deeper.