Chapter 51
HARPER
Iincline my head, my eyes moving to his lips as he whispers my name.
Reaching up, I place my lips against his.
My breath quickens, my fingers aching with the need to touch.
I know I shouldn’t. I should thank him and step away, but the memory of his mouth on mine all those months ago and of waking up next to him this morning, curled into his side… I can’t.
I’ve never wanted anything or anyone as much as I want Alessandro Bianchi. I want to feel his hands and mouth on my body, mine on his.
His heart beats rapidly under my hands, his attention locked on me. He doesn’t step back, so I slide my tongue along the seam of his lips, eliciting a growl that has my pussy clenching in anticipation.
I moan, my hands sliding up and into the short hair at the nape of his neck, raking my fingers against the skin, as he pulls me closer. There’s no mistaking his swollen cock pressed between us.
I roll my hips, earning myself another growl.
He drags his mouth away, resting his forehead against mine, closing his eyes for a second before opening them his gaze locking on mine.
“Brooke,” he says, his arms still wrapped around me.
“Alessandro,” I say, using his full name.
He moans.
“Do you know what it does to me when you use my full name?”
“I thought…”
He clasps my hips, pulling me firmly against him. I gasp, pressing forward, unsure where this newfound confidence has come from. I may be experienced in the ways of the world, but seduction is not one of them.
His hands tighten, but he doesn’t push me away.
“This is a dangerous game we’re playing.”
“We’re both consenting adults,” I say.
“I’m quite a bit older than you. You work for me. There’s a serious power imbalance. We’re at different stages in our lives,” he says.
“It sounds like you’ve thought a lot about this,” I say.
The idea excites me.
“More than I should,” he admits, closing his eyes.
I draw his bottom lip into my mouth and suck gently.
His grip tightens. A thousand butterflies dance in my stomach while desire pools south.
It’s my turn to moan, the pressure of his mouth on mine growing, his tongue sliding between my lips and duelling with mine. I suck on it as his hands sink into my hair, angling our mouths, deepening the kiss.
How long we stand there on the stairs, I don’t know. Alex pushes the throw aside, sweeping me into his arms and carrying me up the stairs. He turns left instead of right this time, shouldering his way into his room.
He lowers my feet to the floor, sliding me down his body.
I draw in a ragged breath, my nerve endings sizzling, my body pulsing with an unknown need.
“I’m going to hell,” he says, dropping his head back and staring up at the ceiling.
“Then we can both go together,” I say, my hands sliding under his jumper and up, taking the material with me, exposing his broad and sculpted chest to my gaze.
He rips it over his head, and my lips immediately connect with his nipple, sucking and nibbling.
He cups my head, pulling me back so his mouth can reconnect with mine.
He runs a finger down my front, sliding beneath the camisole top, cupping my breast in his hand.
I moan into his mouth, pressing forward, increasing the pressure. He tweaks my nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb.
My hands move to his belt, pulling it undone before popping the buttons on his jeans, freeing his straining cock.
“God, Brooke, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? I should send you back to your room.”
“Please don’t,” I say.
“Are you sure this is what you want? If you want to stop at any point, say the word and…”
I slam my mouth back against his, swallowing the rest of his sentence.
He picks me up, and my legs wrap around his waist. His straining cock is trapped between us, my breasts pressed against the solid wall of his naked chest. He lowers me onto the bed, my nipples hard and aching, begging for more, missing the feel of him.
I reach for him, but he steps back, kicking off his jeans, allowing them to drop to the floor, his boxers doing little to hide his erection.
He stops and stares down at me. “I should… we should.” He swallows, his breathing rapid as he meets my eyes. “Brooke, what the fuck are you doing to me?”
“The same thing you’re doing to me,” I admit, scooting up the bed before beckoning him towards me.
He crawls up the mattress, leaning over me.
“I’m taking advantage of you…”
I pull back slightly and let out a bark of laughter, pushing on his chest until our positions are reversed, and he’s lying flat on his back beneath me.
I slide a thigh over his hips, straddling him.
We both moan as our bodies connect, his cock nestled between my folds, only my shorts and his boxers between us.
“Is that better?” I ask, leaning forward, my mouth millimetres from his.
I remove my top before taking one of his hands in mine and pressing it against my breast. I curve my fingers around his until he’s cupping it. His eyes follow the movement, his mouth opening, his expression pained.
“Is it taking advantage if I want you to?” I ask, making him look at me.
I press into his hand, my pussy rocking against him. He moans before pulling my mouth back to his, his lips and tongue meeting mine. He pulls me down flush against him, moulding our bodies together, as I kiss his throat.
“Are you sure?” he asks, chuckling, then moaning when I growl and roll my hips.
“I’m going to fucking combust if you don’t touch me,” I tell him truthfully.
My body is on fire, my core pulsing with need.
He cups my face. “If at any point you want to stop,” he says.
“Will you stop being so chivalrous and…”
His smile is the last thing I see before his lips steal my breath. His hands make swift work of removing my shorts while his mouth remains on mine. Then his hands and lips sweep over me, leaving trails of desire that have me hot with need.
I grip his broad shoulders as he rolls us once more. The pressure of his body against mine has me squirming beneath him, his hard, smooth chest pressed against my throbbing breasts.
My hands move to his boxers, but he pulls back, getting up. I prop myself on my elbows and watch, unabashed by my own nakedness.
My mouth waters at the sight of him. He’s beautiful. His toned muscles and smooth olive skin. He’s Michelangelo’s David in living form.
He lowers his boxers, and I bite the inside of my cheek.
Holy shit.
Alessandro, proud and erect…
I slide my tongue over my bottom lip, our eyes locking as he stalks towards me.
He stops at the edge of the bed and plants one hand beside me to support his weight.
With the other, he pulls my lip from between my teeth and trails his fingers over my chin and down my neck.
My eyes never leave his as he continues downwards and between my breasts.
My stomach muscles contract violently as he continues his descent, stopping at the top of my mound.
“You can see how much I desire you,” he says, looking down at his pulsing cock, moisture pooling at the tip. “How much do you want me?”
Our eyes lock as his hand trails lower.
He hums, his pupils dilating as his fingers slide over my swollen and slick flesh. He groans as he finds my entrance and the clear, unmistakeable evidence he’s looking for.
“Does that answer enough?”
I moan, spreading my legs and writhing against the sheets as his fingers tease my lips, my opening.
He bends his elbow, taking one of my nipples into his mouth at the same moment he slides a finger deep into my channel.
I rocket upwards, my body contracting sharply around him, hands grasping his hair.
“Fuck!” I hiss as he begins to slide it in and out.
“That’s it,” he says against my skin. “Relax, enjoy it.”
He suckles and nips my nipple, twisting his hand so his thumb finds my clit while his finger slides in and out. I spread my legs wider as he adds a second digit, stretching me.
I freeze at the slight burn, but his tongue on my nipple has me relaxing against him.
He continues to move, my hands gripping his hair, drawing him closer.
He groans and increases the pressure on my clit.
Three swipes, and I’m coming apart, my body convulsing violently against him, my pussy pulsing.
He rests his forehead against my collarbone.
“Shit, Brooke,” he says, removing his fingers and gently massaging my swollen flesh. “You’re so sensitive.”
I moan at the feel of his hands still on me.
“More,” I whisper.
He raises his head and looks at me, taking a condom from his bedside drawer. I bite my lip as I watch him roll it on.
“Move further onto the bed,” he tells me.
I scoot back up, resting once again on my elbows.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he says, gazing down at me. “I’m probably going to hell for what I’m about to do.”
I crook a finger at him, beckoning him to me, and he smiles.
“But if I do die now, I have a feeling I’ll die happy.”
He moves up my body, his lips meeting mine, as he settles himself between my thighs. I moan, pressing up against him.
I feel the tip of him against my entrance.
“Please.”
I moan, rocking up and forward.
He enters me slowly, teasing and tormenting.
“That’s it, relax,” he says, pressing forward. “We’ll take it slow.”
He eases into me, centimetre by centimetre.
I moan, my back arching off the bed. I’ve never felt anything like this.
He continues to press forward. There is a slight burn, and I gasp.
His mouth closes over mine, his tongue coaxing me, until I’m losing myself in his kiss.
My hands find his arse cheeks, squeezing.
He rocks forward, adding pressure, my muscles relaxing, allowing him to sink further into me.
We both moan when he’s finally seated. He lifts his head, resting his forehead against mine. I look up, finding myself drowning in his deep blue eyes.
“God, you feel good,” he says.
I tip my hips and roll them, loving the sound of his breath hitching.
My muscles contract around him, and he lets out a moan.
I cup his cheek. He turns his face into my palm and drops a kiss at its centre.