Chapter 2 #2
‘Peyton.’ Her name was a whisper on his tongue as his thumbs swept across the aching tips. ‘You are so beautiful.’
Her back arched involuntarily and she cried out as he pinched the dusky brown peaks lightly between his thumbs and forefingers.
‘You like that?’ he murmured, his lips at her neck.
‘Yes,’ she panted shamelessly, any vestiges of reserve she had disappearing as Valentino stroked and tweaked. Her hand snaked behind to anchor in the hair at his nape as her legs wobbled precariously.
‘And this?’
One hand slid down while the other still toyed with a nipple.
Her abdominal muscles fluttered beneath the feathery touch as his fingers trailed down her belly before burrowing beneath the sheath of fabric still clinging to her hips.
She whimpered something nonsensical as they continued further south, breeching the band of her underwear.
Oh God… was he going to…?
Somewhere in her addled brain she wished she was wearing some wisp of lace instead of sensible panties and that she’d paid more attention to her personal grooming this morning, but those thoughts lasted only a moment before Valentino’s sure, deft, clever fingers homed straight in on his target.
Peyton bucked and cried out at the potent stimulus, her head thunking back to rest against his shoulder.
‘Oh yes,’ he muttered, rough and low in her ear. ‘You do like that.’
With his fingers working her clit and her nipple, Peyton was not capable of words right now. Just noises that she was sure she’d be embarrassed about later.
‘Mio Dio.’ His breath was hot on her temple. ‘You should see yourself.’
Peyton was sure she’d be embarrassed about that later too but right now, knowing he was looking down her body, looking at how his fingers were teasing her nipple, at his hand shoved down her panties, she felt utterly wanton.
‘You like it soft?’ he whispered, his fingers lightening and slowing over the swollen bundle of nerves. ‘Or hard?’
The pad of a finger ground into the sensitive spot, spiking her blood pressure and shooting sparks of pleasure to every periphery, causing her to buck and arch, her breast thrusting into his hand.
A minute ago Peyton wouldn’t have remembered how she liked it, or if she’d ever had a preference, but she sure as hell knew now.
‘Hard,’ she panted. ‘Like that. Just…’ Another pant. ‘Don’t… stop.’
His chuckle was unexpected. ‘Not a chance.’
Good to his word, Valentino doubled-down, his fingers working in tandem north and south as he panted and groaned his own appreciation in her ear.
Peyton was riding the edge in a disgustingly short amount of time, every muscle from her thighs to her belly coiling so tight that when two large fingers slid inside her and crooked and he muttered, ‘Dio, Peyton. You’re so wet,’ she came so hard that if it hadn’t been for the solid weight of him behind her, she’d have fallen to the ground.
‘Yesss,’ he hissed, the hand on her breast sliding to her belly to steady her as she bucked and cried out, her fingers twisting in his hair, her head thrown back in boneless abandon. ‘Let it all out.’
Peyton did. The orgasm shook her to the core, ravaging her insides, wrecking her utterly, squeezing the air from her lungs as it left her body, leaving her gasping for breath as she sagged against him.
Turning her in his arms, he gently grasped her shoulders and sat her on the bed. But that required far too much muscle control and Peyton eased back against the mattress, shutting her eyes as she tried to regain control of her breathing.
‘Dio. You look fucking amazing when you come.’
Peyton’s eyes fluttered open to find him watching her, his eyes raking over her half nudity, which she supposed she should be trying to cover but the way his gaze was eating her up, she couldn’t summon a single give-a-damn.
‘Can you do that again?’ he asked.
Peyton couldn’t remember the last time she’d orgasmed twice in one night with a man but, feeling like this with him looking at her like that, she felt anything was possible.
‘I could do that all night long,’ she admitted with a husky laugh, feeling ridiculously shy about giving voice to something so base.
‘Good,’ he muttered with a grin.
He stripped then and Peyton got a ringside seat to the brisk reveal of bronzed flesh, dark hair, firm muscle and a truly magnificent erection. It sprang free, thick and taut from the confines of his underwear, and she was mesmerised.
‘If you cherish that dress,’ he said, his voice deep as pitch, ‘you better remove it otherwise I’m just going to tear it off.’
She tore her gaze from the dark thatch of hair between his legs to meet eyes that were obsidian with purpose. From somewhere he produced a foil square and tore it open and she watched helplessly as he rolled it down his girth.
‘Peyton,’ he growled.
His voice snapped her out of her inertia and she quickly lifted her hips and wriggled free of her clothes, centring herself on the mattress as she did.
He placed a knee on the bed and the ache between Peyton’s legs ramped up one hundred-fold as Valentino slid a hand onto her right thigh, bent her knee and placed the foot flat against his shoulder.
As he moved into the space he’d created like it had always been his to claim, Peyton gasped at the thick nudge of Valentino’s erection aligning with her centre.
‘Okay?’ he asked as he lowered himself.
Peyton nodded. Okay? It was heaven. She’d forgotten how good it felt to have a man on top like this, his weight covering and pressing. And this man, whose dark eyes had gone suddenly tormented, like he would die if he wasn’t inside her in the next seconds?
That was a whole other level.
He lowered his mouth then and kissed her, his lips slanting hungrily over hers, his tongue instantly exploring, Peyton shuddering at the heat and the hunger and the sheer pleasure of his kiss as the nudge at her core became a push and he slid all the way inside.
She tore her mouth from his, gasping at his absolute possession, revelling in the guttural groan that he expelled as he collapsed.
‘Okay?’ he asked again, lifting his head, his eyes inspecting hers.
‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘More than okay.’
He didn’t answer; he just kissed her again, more hungry, more greedy, and she revelled in it, panting and moaning against his mouth as his body gave and hers took, moving in sync, building and building until, already one orgasm down, she could stave off the second no longer.
She flew off the edge, the violent clamping of her walls and the rake of her nails down his back, pulling Valentino with her, flying together into the stormy pleasure of their release.
Peyton woke disorientated to a warm hand laid possessively low on her abdomen and a strange buzzing as a pale dawn broke through the gaps in the heavy curtains. She glanced at the clock – five-thirty. They’d been asleep for less than two hours.
The buzzing came again and movement caught her eye as her mobile vibrated and moved slightly across the surface of the bedside table. It must be a text message.
McKenzie.
Instantly frantic, she grabbed her phone and accessed the message, her hands shaking, her heart pounding.
McKenzie woken with a slight temp. Don’t worry, Everything under control.
Peyton read the message three times, feeling progressively more ill. Oh, God. Her daughter was sick and where was she? In the arms of some Italian… lothario thinking only about herself.
She had to get out of here. Now!
Needing to leave straight away and not wanting to be detained by some awkward morning-after conversation, Peyton eased out of bed carefully, trying not to wake Valentino.
Ignoring the pull of internal muscles, she grabbed for her clothes, furious at herself for last night.
She should have followed her instincts and gone home.
Not stayed. Not let herself be seduced into a one-night stand, no matter how amazing it had been. Her baby was ill. Again. McKenzie needed her.
She had to get home. That was all that mattered.
Without even a sideways glance at the man sound asleep in her bed, Peyton fled the room, thankful at least that Valentino Lombardi lived on the other side of the planet and she’d never, ever have to see him again.