Chapter Seven #2
The fit was tight. Taut.
“I want…” She started to touch herself, needing stimulation on her clit.
“No, angelo. Not yet. I want my tongue there while I do this— Oh, that excites you, doesn’t it? I felt the way you clamped down on my fingers.” She felt his smile against her cheek. “I think you want more. Hmm?”
He eased his hand away and shifted. Now, a new pressure was demanding access, stimulating, stretching, stinging.
“Rocco,” she said with apprehension, fingernails cutting into his shoulders.
“I could come right now,” he told her. “With only my tip inside you. Does it hurt? I won’t move. Get used to it. Let me kiss you.”
His hand was on her throat, her pulse thudding against the weight of his hand. Her body felt impaled, yet unsatisfied. Ripe, yet needy.
They kissed deeply, tongues dueling while he stayed propped on one elbow and ran his free hand over her, soothing and petting, then splaying his palm on one breast to massage it. Somehow, that kneading sensation softened her loins. His thickness inched a little deeper into her. Made her want more.
“Rocco.”
“I know. It’s maddening, isn’t it?” He angled to suck at her nipple while his clever fingers traced the flesh that was growing damper and thinner, and more eager for his full penetration.
When his mouth came back to hers, his hand slid to her buttocks, angling her hips so he slid deep into her. All the way.
She fluttered her eyes open, wondering if this was a dream, finding herself here, under this man, body accepting his after all this time.
“Hold on to me,” he said.
She did, wrapping her arms and legs around him as he got his arm beneath her and brought his knees under her hips. He rose so he was on his knees, pulling her tight into his lap, holding her draped around him.
“Oh!” The position impaled her that little bit more upon him. It wasn’t painful, but it startled her. “Why did you do that?”
“Because all I want to do is thrust. You need a little more time to get used to this. How have you never done this before? You were made for this. For me.”
“I don’t…” She was in a daze of sensations, hair spilling around her, arms clinging to his shoulders, breasts abraded by the hair on his chest. Her thigh muscles were taut with nerves, bent legs held open by his splayed knees. Her loins were stretched and full.
It was intensely intimate, being in this position. She was trapped in an erotic vise and deeply vulnerable, but she didn’t want to get away.
He was taking full advantage of having both hands free, running them over her back and down to her buttocks, squeezing, nudging her that fraction deeper onto his turgid flesh.
She rubbed her face into his neck and tasted the skin against his throat. Her hands sifted through his hair, but… “It’s not enough.” The solid shape of him incited heat and wetness and such a yearning she thought she would die. She shifted as much as she could, seeking friction. “I want to move.”
He reached out and swept the pillows away from the quilted headboard, then stood on his knees and pinned her against it.
Finally, finally, he withdrew and returned.
Glittering sensations rocketed through every nerve ending. Her scalp prickled, her nipples stung and her flesh burned where he moved.
She grappled to hold on to the top of the headboard and pressed the back of her head to the wall, arching to take him even deeper, welcoming the strength of his arms under her thighs, supporting her, and the bite of his hands into her hips as he moved with careful precision.
“Don’t be gentle,” she urged. “Take me the way you want me. I need to feel you—” His hips ground into hers, rougher than anything else he’d done. It was exactly the aggression she needed. “Yes! Like that. More—”
She lost her ability to speak. He released animalistic noises, thrusting hard enough that the headboard banged the wall. They were both sweating, moaning… Her muscles ached, but she had never felt so alive. So uninhibited and well-matched. So wanted.
It became raw and wild and sharp. She gripped him with her thighs, so close to cresting the peak, yet it eluded her. She didn’t know how she would survive if she didn’t come soon.
“Now, Mira. Let go. Let me feel it.” His hips slapped into hers again and again, merciless in his drive to claim her.
A keening cry left her as the flush of orgasm arrived in a burst of heat and a sensation of plummeting off a cliff. In that same moment, the thickness of his flesh pulsed against the contracting walls of her sheath.
His full weight was against her, body bucking, crushing her lower back to the headboard, thighs splayed over his straining arms. The top of the headboard dug across the middle of her back while his damp forehead sagged to rest against her shoulder. His breaths billowed against her breast.
Her mind turned to a feather drifting in a breeze, but one thought alighted: She would never be the same again.
Rocco was only a man, not a super being who could resist three years of denial and several hours of build-up. He would have left Mira alone if she’d refused him at the last minute, but his own second thoughts around deflowering a virgin were saved for the morning, when it was too late.
Two late. He’d woken in the night to her shifting her bare ass invitingly into the spoon of his body. His erection had been seeking her heat the way a compass needle sought north. Her nipple had been hard in his palm, her kiss against his biceps open-mouthed and damp.
He’d rolled away long enough to apply a condom. When he returned, he’d slid home with a gratified sigh from both of them.
Concern that she was too new to sex to take him again gave him the strength to leave the bed without rolling on top of her when he woke. But he wanted to. Dio, did he want to. What a gorgeous appetite. What a deliciously earthy abandonment to pleasure.
What an amusingly heavy sleeper. Worn out? No doubt. He’d slept in himself, usually on his way to the office by now. He had texted his assistant last night that he wouldn’t be in today and was pleased to have a lazy morning with Mira.
She didn’t stir while he showered and dressed in drawstring joggers and a plain T-shirt. His housekeeper, Florenza, was here, so he asked her to serve breakfast on the terrace.
He made a few calls and answered some messages.
Still nothing from Silvio. As he pondered that silence, a small misgiving about taking Mira as his lover sank under his skin.
Silvio would understand his partnering with her against Otto, but sleeping with her?
And what would Mira think, if and when she learned that Silvio was her biological father?
Rocco was adept at compartmentalizing such things. He couldn’t imagine their mutual passion being extinguishing anytime soon. What was he supposed to do? Deny them both until Silvio decided to reveal himself?
“Signore? You have a guest.” Florenza escorted Benedetto onto his terrace.
Astounded, Rocco asked, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Benedetto’s nervous smile wilted. He wore his best suit and had a messenger bag looped across his body. He’d nicked himself shaving so there was a bright red spot on the corner of his jaw.
“You told me to bring you my report today. Your assistant said you were working from home, so I thought…” His tired eyes looked sunken from lack of sleep. “Scuso. I’ll go clean out my desk.”
“You brought the proposal I asked for?” As much as he’d like to kick this young buck in the ass, Rocco recalled Silvio giving him a chance when he had been exactly this young and stupid.
He picked up his knife and rolled it, indicating Benedetto should get on with it while he smeared marmalade across an oval of crisped bread.
Benedetto fumbled his laptop free from his bag and clicked to bring up a slide.
“Based on your reaction to the bid we lost to Vorstoben, I began an analysis of our proposals from the last three years. For the most part, we were neck and neck with Vorstoben, winning or losing to them at a fairly even rate until last August, when they began winning all of them. I collected the winning bids and it’s been exactly seven percent every time we lost to them. We always lose to them.”
“A mole.” Rocco snapped a look toward the doors from the terrace into his bedroom. What did she know about this?
“I thought it best to leave the investigation in your hands. Unless you want me to take action?” Benedetto asked.
“Go to the office. Tell my assistant I want all heads of departments available for meetings when I get there.” Rocco hadn’t decided what action he would take, but it would happen today and it would be ruthless.