Epilogue 01 #2
My fingers feel useless, fumbling at the button of my trousers, nails snagging on the fabric as desperation makes me clumsy.
He murmurs something fast in Italian, words that feel like a prayer and a curse all at once.
His large hand covers mine, halting my frantic movements.
My pulse hammers in my ears like a frenzied drum.
For a heartbeat, nothing happens... then he pivots me, pressing me flat against the wall.
The chill bites into my skin through my clothes; his body behind me is a furnace.
“Is this what you want, tesoro?” he breathes into my ear. The husky timbre vibrates against my skin.
His teeth graze my earlobe, making my knees weak. I moan, breath hitching. “Y-yes.”
The zipper slides down with a hiss. His knuckles brush the sensitive skin of my hip bones as he shoves my trousers down. I step free of one leg, then the other, the air conditioning hitting my bare skin in a rush of goosebumps.
He drops to his knees behind me, reaching for my ankles to slip off one shoe and then the other.
Calloused palms trail up my thighs until a possessive squeeze of my ass steals my breath.
His mouth begins its torture with damp, open-mouthed kisses along the back of my thigh, his beard dragging deliciously against my smooth skin.
He stops at the curve of my ass, scattering small, sharp bites that leave me shaking.
“I could spend days just tasting you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need.
Then, he licks a hot, wet stripe right along the center, parting my cheeks, pressing his face deeper, drawing a high broken whine from my throat that I can’t suppress.
“Open your legs for me,” he commands, the order hushed and guttural. My body obeys before my mind can even catch up. “Wider.”
I shift, and he clamps his hands on my hips, forcing me to lean further forward, bracing me as he spreads me open until I’m completely exposed. Face against the wall, my heels dig into the cold marble floor, as he pushes my lace panties aside with a feather-light touch.
My knees almost give out the moment his tongue finds my entrance. A broken whimper tears from my throat as he paints a hot, wet line from my center back to my ass.
His fingertip circles the rim, teasingly unhurried.
I reach back, burying my fingers into his thick hair, desperate to hold on as small waves of pleasure crash over me.
It’s a sensation we’re still exploring, a thrilling edge.
I remember the first time he touched me there, the shock of it.
But not anymore. This... this is him owning me, in every pleasurable way possible.
I gasp as he pushes past the resistance, sinking his finger inside. The fullness sends jolts through my body, heightening the sensitivity of his tongue as he traces maddening circles over my clit. He pulls back, and then without warning he starts sucking and licking me with an obscene pace.
“Your taste is addictive,” he rasps.
His tongue finds my clit again, devouring me just the way he knows I love it, while his finger keeps a slow, torturous pace.
Then, he stops. Tongue and finger both go still.
“Alexander... don’t stop,” I plead, my voice ragged.
He teases me further: a single flick of his tongue on my clit. “This?” His finger moves in my ass again, taking his sweet time. “Or this?”
“Both. Everything,” I beg, grinding back against him.
He laughs and withdraws his finger, punctuating the loss of contact with a sharp slap to my ass, making my skin sting and burn before he stands. His fully clothed body presses into me, the rugged fabric of his tailored trousers scratching against my sensitive skin.
“I think I want to feel you come on my cock first,” he says, his voice rough.
I turn in his arms to face him. He doesn’t wait. He pushes down one strap of my top, dips his head, and takes my left breast in his mouth. Sucking hard. His fingers dig in, twisting my other nipple to the point of pain.
“Are you going to keep playing with me,” I pant, leaning into his punishing touch, “or are you going to give me what I want?”
His eyes burn with terrifying intensity. He doesn’t answer. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties and rips, the ruined fabric falling to the floor. A gasp escapes my throat as he parts my lips and slides a finger deep into my pussy.
“You’re soaked... burning for me. All mine,” he whispers, his nose brushing mine.
Before I can breathe a word, he hoists me up. I lock my legs around his waist, my arms clinging to the breadth of his shoulders as he backs me to the wall.
“Free my cock,” he orders, shifting his grip on my hips.
My hands tremble as I fumble with his belt. I shove his zipper down, then his boxer briefs. His hard length springs free. I cradle him in my palm, my thumb brushing over the bead of precum at the tip, spreading the slickness.
Without him having to ask, I lift my hips and guide the thick head of his cock to my entrance. I sink down. Slowly.
The way he fills me is so immense it borders on pain, a fullness that makes me gasp and shudder at once. When he is buried fully, deep inside me, my head falls back against the wall. I stare at him... lips parted, lungs seizing.
I start to move, rolling my hips, adjusting to him, but his fingers dig into my ass hard, stopping me.
“I need a minute,” he says, his voice hoarse.
With a savage jerk of his head, he catches the other strap of my top in his teeth and yanks it aside. The fabric gives way. He clamps his mouth down on my exposed nipple, sucking and nipping until every draw of his mouth feels like I’m burning from the inside out.
I try to move again, my clit rubbing against his pelvis desperate for release, but he halts my hips with one hand, holding me in place.
“Alexander!” I protest, my voice cracking.
He smiles, and sinks his teeth into my lower lip. “What do you want, tesoro?” he asks into my mouth, releasing me just enough to answer.
“You,” I whisper. “I need you to fuck me until I can’t think of anything but your name.”
His eyes blaze. He kisses me hard, swallowing my cry, then drives into me with punishing, relentless thrusts. I feel the sting of his teeth on my neck, the heat of his mouth claiming every inch of my skin as he moves from my throat to my breasts.
I tug his hair, lifting his face to mine, desperate to kiss him—but his gaze stops me. There’s such raw emotion in those amber eyes that my breath catches as he drives more intensely into me.
My body tightens, convulsing around him, and I come, calling his name like a prayer. He follows moments later, groaning into my skin as he buries himself to the hilt, his forehead resting heavily against my shoulder as he fills me.
I run my hands through his sweat-slick hair, both of us breathing harshly.
He lifts his head, arching an eyebrow at my ruined top hanging in tatters. “I hope that wasn’t your favorite.”
I press a kiss to his swollen lips. “It wasn’t. But the memory of you tearing it off? That I’ll keep forever.”
He shakes his head, a grin breaking across his face. “Cazzo, ti amo sempre di più, ogni giorno.” [LXXVIII]
“I love you just as much,” I whisper back. “More, and more.”
Then, gripping my ass, he carries me to the master bedroom. I keep my legs tight around his waist, feeling him softening inside me.
He sets me down on the cold marble vanity, finally withdrawing—leaving me feeling empty—and starts filling the deep soaking tub. Within seconds, the room grows thick with curling steam. I peel off what’s left of my top and drop it to the floor.
I perch on the edge of the tub, watching as he peels off his shirt. He steps out of his shoes and discards his trousers, my eyes following the way his muscles flex as he strips.
“Come,” he says, holding out his hand.
The water is almost painfully hot; I sigh as I sink in. He steps in after me, the water displacing around us, and settles behind me. He pulls me back until my spine rests flush on his broad chest, his legs bracketing mine.
“Relax, amore,” he murmurs.
He lathers a sponge with body wash—cedar, sandalwood, and amber; his scent—and begins to wash me.
His hands, which only moments ago bruised my skin with their grip, now move with gentleness.
He reaches around me to wash my front, sliding the sponge over my shoulders, down my arms, and across my ribs.
He halts at a faint red mark on my hip, pressing his lips to the back of my shoulder.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he whispers into my skin.
“As good as I’ll ever be in your arms,” I breathe, letting my head fall back onto his shoulder. “I liked it. I liked how much you wanted me.”
He murmurs his approval and resumes washing my chest. My nipples harden under his soapy touch. As his arms encircle me, working the sponge over my skin, I reach out and trace the prominent veins on his wet forearms with my fingertips.
When he moves his hands to my hair, massaging my scalp, I close my eyes. There is something disarming about this… to be cared for so completely after being taken so roughly.
“Ti amo,” I say, a satisfied smile on my lips.
“Ti amo,” he echoes, the smile audible in his voice.
He tightens his hold around my waist.
“I could stay here forever,” I whisper.
“Anch’io,” [LXXIX]he replies, pressing a kiss to my wet temple. “But the water’s cooling. And I want to dry you off, slip under the covers, and fall asleep spooning you.”
I tilt my head back to look at him. A droplet of water falls from his damp hair onto his forehead, clinging to his dark eyelashes.
“That sounds perfect,” I admit.
He smiles, and I know he’s thinking the same.
Hamptons
Alexander
The late-morning sun flashes on the teak deck, bright but chilling, the May wind sharp with the North Atlantic’s bite. I adjust Ethan’s stance, firming his elbow just enough to correct the angle of the rod.