Chapter 34 #2
He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through my entire body.
"I've been losing my mind since you walked out of that conference room.
I spent days moping in that damn hotel room, thinking about you.
Your taste, your smell, your touch..." He kisses me again, his tongue delving into my mouth, claiming me.
"I've never felt like this about anyone, Elsa. Never."
My walls clench around him at his words.
"It's insane," I breathe. "We barely know each other."
"I know you're stubborn, and brilliant," he says, punctuating each word with a hard, deep thrust, making me cry out with each one. "I know you're stronger than you think you are. And I know I want to spend the rest of my life finding out everything else there is to know."
I lean back to look at him, really look at him, to see the truth in his eyes. And what I see there steals my breath. It's the same raw, vulnerable yearning that's been eating away at me.
"I know I love you, Elsa," he breathes. "I don't know how, but I know I do. I am irrevocably, undeniably in love with you."
"I don't believe in love at first sight," I whisper. "It's for people in fairy tales and romance novels." My hips rock in a slow, circular motion, and we both groan.
"Then what do you call this?" he asks, his movements stilling inside me.
"I don't know," I whisper over the lump in my throat, my emotions threatening to spill over. "All I know is that I'm completely, utterly lost without you."
"You have me," he says, "whether you want me or not."
And just like that, the dam breaks.
I let out a laughing sob, a messy, wrecked sound that's so full of emotion I barely recognize it as my own.
"I love you too," I sob, the words tumbling out of me, a torrent of emotion I can no longer contain. "God, Antonio, I love you too."
The words feel right. True. The only words that have ever truly mattered.
I'm not even sure who moves first, who closes the final, infinitesimal distance between our mouths.
Then the kiss isn't a kiss. It's a collision. A desperate, frantic clash of lips and teeth and tongues, a raw, primal expression of everything we've been holding back. It's a promise and a plea, a confession and a surrender.
My hands are in his hair, my legs wrapped tight around his waist, my body straining against his, desperate for more, for everything.
He responds in kind, his hands gripping my ass, pulling me harder onto him, his hips driving into me with a wild abandon that borders on feral.
We're not making love anymore. I'm not even sure it's fucking. It's a desperate, frantic act that's more about possession and claiming than pleasure. A need to crawl inside each other's skin and never, ever leave.
My back slams against the tile, the cool ceramic a sharp, pleasurable shock against my overheated skin. The water is still beating down on us, but it's nothing more than a distant roar, a background noise to the frantic rhythm of our hearts, the desperate gasps of our breath, the slap of our skin.
"You feel so fucking good," he growls against my ear, and I just about come undone from the sheer force of it.
I love this raw, dominant side of him. The way he takes what he wants, the way he isn't afraid to be a little rough, a little demanding.
He's not a brute, but he is so unapologetically him, and I have never been more turned on.
"So do you," I gasp, my nails raking down his back, scoring his skin.
He likes it. I can feel him shudder, his hips bucking, a guttural groan rumbling in his chest.
"Harder," I demand, my own voice low and husky.
"Anything you want, amore mio," he rasps, and he gives me exactly what I asked for.
He drives into me, harder, deeper, the force of it stealing my breath. My head falls back, a silent scream tearing from my throat as he hits that perfect spot deep inside me.
He shifts slightly, changing the angle, and then he's hitting it with every thrust. My vision goes blurry, my body tensing, a familiar pressure building in my stomach. My nails dig into his shoulders, unable to handle the sheer pleasure coursing through me.
"You're so tight, Elsa," he pants, his forehead resting against mine. "So fucking perfect. Made for me."
"Antonio," I sob, my body shaking. "I'm... I'm..."
"I know," he says, his voice a low, soothing murmur. "Let go, sporcacciona. My naughty girl. I've got you. I'll never let you go."
That’s what that means? Naughty girl?
Oh God.
My body convulses as a blinding, white-hot orgasm tears through me, ripping a ragged cry from my throat. It's so intense it's almost painful, a violent, beautiful storm that leaves me gasping and shaking, clinging to him like he's the only solid thing in a world that's spinning out of control.
He doesn't stop. He works me through it, drawing out my pleasure until I'm a quivering, sobbing mess, and then, with a final, guttural groan, he follows me over the edge.
I feel him pulse inside me, a hot, wet flood of warmth that fills me with him. His body goes limp, and he slumps against me, his full weight pinning me to the wall. For a moment, we just breathe, our ragged gasps the only sound in the steam-filled bathroom.
He holds me, his body trembling, his face buried in my neck, and we stay like that for a long moment, two bodies entwined, our ragged breaths the only sound in the steam-filled room.
Slowly, carefully, he lowers me to my feet. I tighten my arms around his neck. My legs are shaking so badly I'm not sure they can hold me.
“Don’t laugh at me,” I whisper, my face buried against his chest.
He pulls back just enough to look down at me, a slow, devastatingly handsome smile spreading across his face. “I’m not laughing, Elsa.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Okay,” he concedes, and the smile turns into a full-fledged grin. “Maybe a little.”
He kisses the pout off my lips in a soft, sweet kiss that’s full of affection and a smug, masculine pride that’s so ridiculously endearing I can’t even be annoyed.
“I love that you react like that,” he says. “It’s so damn adorable.”
“It’s never happened with anyone before," I insist, and I know instantly that was the wrong thing to say because his smile grows wicked and arrogant.
"No?" he asks, his voice dark and husky. He shifts, pressing against me. “Just me, huh?”
The smugness is unbearable. And so hot. I scowl and push at him, my hands flat against the hard wall of his chest, but it's a weak, ineffectual attempt. I'm still boneless, still clinging to him.
"You mean you've never been fucked so well, so many times, that you couldn't stand up?" he asks. "Never come so hard, for so long, that your legs just give up on you?"
They're not questions. Not really. He knows it. He's proud of it.
I narrow my eyes, trying to maintain my indignant attitude. Really, I'm in no position to be indignant since I'm basically clinging to him because he did, in fact, fuck me so well that my legs barely function.
"Good." He kisses me again, a quick, possessive peck on the lips. "Because I plan on making that happen again. And again. And again.”
My legs are trembling so hard I have to grab onto his shoulders.
He laughs and tightens his hold on me, one arm is wrapped behind my back, the other has a handful of my ass. He pulls back from the wall and carries me directly under the spray of the water.
"Hey!" I protest, but it's a weak, breathy sound.
"I still need a shower, and you need a rewash after..." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
I lose my breath again. After he came all over me.
How the hell can I still be so damn horny?
"You are insufferable," I say, but my voice is breathy.
He laughs, the sound a husky rumble against my ear. "But you love me."
God, I do. I love this arrogant, charming, dangerous, ridiculously handsome man. I love him so much it hurts.
"I do," I whisper. "Which is why I'm going to kill you if you drop me."
"Never," he vows.