Chapter 19 Daisy
DAISY
Dickmatized: [verb] when the dick game is so good, you shove your morals aside and fall for the guy attached to said dick even if he is part of an elite criminal organization that sometimes maybe kills people. But then again, you’ve killed, too, so really, what good are morals anyway?
Giulio La Rosa is a god of a man. Defined chest muscles that I’ve only ever seen in movies and on TV shows. Thick, bulging biceps and small, flat nipples that I can’t wait to graze my teeth over. He’s a dream come true.
My hand itches to slap myself just to make sure it’s all real—that he’s real.
Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure that would ruin the moment, and I would rather put my high school yearbook photos up on the Jumbotron in Times Square before I disrupt what’s about to happen here in this bedroom.
He comes down on top of me, all sinew and grace, his body moving over mine with restrained movements.
“Were you an athlete in school?” I ask, dazed at the pressure of his chest meeting mine.
We’re skin to skin, him and me, with only the soft lace of my bra and underwear as barriers.
I want them gone, but I can’t seem to make myself strip when all my hands want to do is spear into the thick, dark locks of hair at the back of his head.
“What?” Giulio blinks at me, confusion entering those pretty ice-blue eyes of his.
“You’re just so…” Stacked, my mind supplies, but I’m a little awkward about saying it aloud. So, instead, I let my words drift off and bite down on my lower lip as my fingers graze against the side of his neck and then move away to his shoulder. He’s rock-hard all over, and I do mean all over.
The iron pipe of an erection pressing against my lower belly is making my insides do all sorts of somersaults and weird gymnastic tricks that I couldn’t do with my whole body even if I wanted to.
When was the last time I had good sex? Sophomore year of college?
It definitely wasn’t with my last boyfriend.
Maybe it was the drug dealer dude I hooked up with a time or two during my second year of university. He was a hell of a good time.
As my fingers drift further down over the man above me, moving from his hair to his biceps then his chest, I lightly pat the dark swath of curly hair in the center.
Giulio promises to be ten times better than any of them.
He certainly kisses better than any of them.
The defined slabs of muscle that make up his abdomen don’t hurt, either.
“No.” The word has me drawing my gaze up from his chest back to his face. His lips are curled at the edges as if he’s amused at something.
I cock my head to the side. “No?” I repeat. “No what?”
He presses his lips together, fighting a smile.
“No, I wasn’t an athlete,” he says, answering the question I’ve already forgotten that I asked.
“In fact—” Giulio’s hand comes up and cradles one of my legs, pushing it outward to make space for his hips as he drives his erection against my panty-covered pussy.
Oh, fuck. What was originally just an idea of hardness now becomes a monstrous fact of size. Athlete or not, Giulio La Rosa is built like a damned horse between his legs.
How the hell is that thing going to fit inside of me? The panicked question echoes around my head, and when Mean Daisy steps out of the shadows, it’s with a twinkle of excitement in her eyes. She hitches her invisible suspenders and gives me a look.
Oh no. No no no no no. I shake my head mentally at her. Don’t give me that look.
Oh, yes, she replies with that deranged gleam.
It’s not going to fit! I scream at her. It’s too big.
With a roll of eyes that are an exact replica of my own, Mean Daisy snorts. Babies come out of pussies every day, little girl, she says. A big dick isn’t going to break you. Then a dreamy sort of sigh leaves her lips. But if it does… oh, what a way to go…
A startled yelp is yanked out of me, and I jerk my head down to meet Giulio’s blue eyes as he releases his teeth from my fabric-covered nipple. “What was that for?” I demand, gaping at him as he laves his tongue over the minor hurt.
“You weren’t paying attention, cara,” he murmurs, “and that’s an insult to any man, but most especially to a husband who’s trying to pleasure his wife.”
“Oh.” I blink down at him as his fingers trail the edge of the lace of my bra. “Sorry.” I gulp as the strap on one shoulder slides down, revealing more of the creamy flesh of my breast and the pink, raised edge of my nipple.
My breath comes a bit faster now as Giulio smiles up at me, all feral amusement and savage delight. He’s like a wild animal in a human skin, and I don’t know why, but that turns me on even more.
“Giulio?” My voice hiccups a bit as he pinches the other strap of my bra and moves that down as well.
“Hmm?” he hums in the back of his throat, eyes locked on my breasts and hands plumping the sides.
“Will you kiss me again?”
Cool blue eyes shoot back to my face. “Oh, cara…” He leverages up, his erection pressing back against my stomach as his face hovers over mine. “You never have to ask.”
Hard lips meet mine, and I let my eyes slide shut as I meet him stroke for stroke.
Giulio kisses like a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.
He’s dominating and in control, and yet there’s also a hint of fierce need that reminds me I’m not the only one who’s been thinking about this exact moment.
We lie there just like that, our mouths meeting in a tangle of teeth and lips and tongue.
I suck in a breath when I can, right before he dives down and kisses the oxygen from my lungs all over again.
It isn’t until the fabric around my rib cage loosens abruptly that I realize his hands have moved around to my back and unlatched my bra.
I keep kissing him as he pulls the straps the rest of the way down my arms and then removes the item from my body completely.
I’m bared from the waist up, my chest on display, and a flush rises up from the bottom of my soul to pepper my skin with a pink hue.
Giulio chuckles as if he senses it, and when I peek my eyes open, breaking the kiss, I realize it’s not because he senses anything—it’s because he sees my blush. His own eyes are open and roving down over my mostly naked body, hunger in their depths.
“Oddio,” he rasps, the accent of his Italian phrasing thick.
My breasts rise and fall with rapid movements as I inhale sharply, trying to catch breath that doesn’t seem to want to stick around. His hands cup my breasts again, and his thumbs flick over the hardened nubs of my nipples, making my back arch toward him as a startling pleasure shoots through me.
Man, being married rocks, I think absently as Giulio leans down, and this time, when his mouth touches my skin, it’s without any barriers.
Kissing each nipple in turn, Giulio lavishes them with silent praise and attention.
The skin of my thighs chafes against the roughed hair on his as he continues to hold me open so that his cloth-covered cock can brush against my panty-covered pussy.
A frustrated groan rumbles up my throat. I want more! My hands delve into his dark curls, and I lock on, tugging lightly to let him know that playtime better hurry the fuck up. Otherwise, I might just flip him over, straddle him, and end it all right now.
The earlier hunger that’s been eating away at my lower belly is blooming into a full-blown gluttonous rage.
I can feel how wet I’m becoming beneath the thin fabric of my underwear, and every minute brush of my pussy against the panties is quickly making me lose my damn mind.
More moans fall out of my lips as Giulio ignores my tugging warnings and bites down on one nipple before suckling it with reverence.
No one has ever spent this long just paying attention to my breasts, and though I like it—really fucking like it—my needy pussy is screaming for some care of its own. Undulating my body under his much larger one, I settle my grip into his hair and yank hard.
“Giulio,” I gasp out his name, a desperation that is all new to me.
When he comes up, his lips glittering with wetness, I have to catch my breath. If I thought he was handsome when he smiled, like this—all sex-ready and carnal hunger—he’s devastating. Keeping my hands locked into his hair when he moves to go back to my breasts, I let loose a very unladylike growl.
“If you don’t get my panties off in the next ten seconds and fuck me, I’m going to scream,” I warn him.
One corner of his mouth quirks up. “I have a feeling, cara,” he says, one thumb coming up to rub, teasingly, against my lower lip, “that you’re going to be screaming before the end of the night anyway.”
I have absolutely no response to that because I hope he’s right.
He takes pity on my poor sexually starved soul, anyway, and doesn’t make me wait any longer.
In the split second it takes for me to absorb his words, Giulio’s weight comes off me and then his hands latch on to the sides of my underwear.
A quick yank, and the fabric is gone, sliding right off my legs.
When he comes back over me, I realize he’s removed his boxers as well.
The hot, hard heat of his erection rubs against my skin, and I can’t help but look down at it.
Thick and long, with a vein running up the underside of the shaft, Giulio’s cock is a magnificent, proud thing.
Curving slightly upward toward his belly button even as it juts out from his body, I’ve got to admit that it’s kind of pretty.
Weird, I think. Cocks aren’t usually pretty.
Reaching down with one hand, I cup him and realize that I can’t close my fingers around the circumference. Mean Daisy grins wide and welcome.
Oh, shut it, you bitch, I mutter mentally, but I can’t fault her for her smugness. This is turning out to be an incredible idea. Sex with Giulio La Rosa is mind-blowing, and he isn’t even inside of me yet.