Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Teresa
He’s looking at me.
Just standing there at the foot of the daybed, looking at me like a man possessed.
The daybed is very low to the ground, so he’s towering over me, chest heaving, the muscles in his arms and shoulders are tense. He is fully dressed, while I’m completely naked, exposed, and vulnerable. I should be embarrassed. I should want to cover myself.
I don't.
I want him to keep looking.
My skin is tingling, my blood is still humming with the aftershocks of what he just did to me, but seeing the raw, naked hunger in his eyes is making me ache all over again.
His gaze is a physical thing, a hot touch that skims over my breasts, my stomach, the sensitive skin between my legs, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
My legs fall open on their own, an invitation I can't stop.
His gaze darkens, becoming even more intense, and it’s all the answer I need.
He sheds his shirt in one smooth motion, and the sight of him steals my breath.
He’s a wall of muscle, every inch of him sculpted and hard.
His stomach is a washboard. He has tattoos on both arms and another one, a much more intricate one, sprawling over one side of his chest and shoulder.
There are a few scars too, silvery white lines on his dark skin, only making him look more dangerous.
He reaches for the buckle of his belt, the metallic click loud in the quiet cabana.
My eyes are fixed on the way his fingers work the leather, my breath catching in my throat. I watch, completely mesmerized, as he unbuckles it, then pops the button on his pants, the zipper a seductive rasp.
He shoves them down, along with his boxers, and the sight of him, hard and thick, sends a jolt of pure lust straight through me.
He is… magnificent.
The muscles in his thighs bunch as he kicks the pants aside, and then he's moving. He leans over me and runs his hands up my legs, from my ankles to my thighs, then higher, his thumbs tracing the crease where my legs meet my body. His touch is rough, calloused, and sends shivers through me.
With a firm grip, he pulls me down until my hips meet the edge of the daybed. Then he pushes my legs wider, opening me up to him completely. A sharp, needy breath escapes me as the position stretches me, putting my soaked pussy on full, shameless display.
The way he looks at me then… it’s almost worshipful. But it’s darkened with something feral, something proprietary. As if he’s claiming this sight. As if I already belong to him.
I watch, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs, as he sinks to his knees at the foot of the bed.
"Vito," I breathe, my hands fisting in the pillows on either side of my head.
He answers me by lowering his head.
The first touch of his tongue is a shock. A hot, wet intimate pressure against my clit. A jolt of electricity shoots through me, and my back arches off the bed. I cry out, my fingers digging into the soft pillows.
He doesn't stop. He doesn't hesitate.
He devours me.
His tongue is a masterful instrument, exploring, tasting, teasing. He licks me from my entrance to my clit in long, slow strokes, then circles the sensitive bundle of nerves, alternating between broad, flat licks and the pointed flick of the tip of his tongue.
He wraps his arms around my thighs, his hands gripping my hips, holding me in place as he feasts. His grip is firm, unyielding, a physical reminder of his strength. I am completely at his mercy.
And I love it.
He nips gently at the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, then soothes it with a soft kiss, the slight sting quickly replaced by a warm rush of pleasure. My whole body is trembling, my breath coming in ragged sobs.
He licks me again, this time pushing his tongue inside me. I buck against his face, a desperate moan tearing from my throat. He fucks me with his tongue, a slow, deliberate rhythm that is driving me insane.
"More," I gasp, the word barely intelligible. "Please, Vito."
He looks up at me from between my legs. His face is glistening, his eyes burning with a dark fire. He slides two fingers inside me, stretching me, filling me, and my body clenches around them.
"Here? Hmm? Is this where you want more?" His voice is husky and rough, his eyes locked on mine.
"Yes," I sob, my hips rising to meet his hand, to take him deeper.
"How about here?" He lowers his head so his mouth is hovering over me, but doesn't touch me. His breath is a hot caress against my sensitive flesh. "You want my tongue here?"
"God, yes," I whimper, my entire body aching for it.
Then he lowers his head again, and this time, he focuses on my clit. He sucks it into his mouth, and my vision whites out.
A choked cry escapes me. My head thrashes against the pillows. The pleasure is building again, a wave cresting higher and higher.
He’s relentless. He alternates between sucking hard and flicking his tongue, all while he fucks me with his fingers, curling them inside me to find that spot deep within that makes my whole body sing.
My hands fly down to his hair, my fingers tangling in the dark strands, holding him against me as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge.
"That's it," he growls against me, the vibrations sending another shockwave of pleasure through me. "I want you to come on my face, Doctor. I'm going to lick it all up."
The sound of his deep, rough voice telling me all the things he wants to do to me…
But his movements are still easy, lazy, relaxed. Like he has all the time in the world, even as the pleasure inside me builds, threatening to shatter me into a million pieces.
His fingers move inside me rhythmically, stroking my inner walls. He slides them out and circles my clit with my own slickness before pushing his fingers into his mouth and cleaning them with a deep groan.
His eyes are closed as he tastes me. The sheer, unapologetic enjoyment on his face makes me burn. He’s enjoying this as much as I am. The thought sends a thrill through me. This power, this desire, it’s not one-sided.
"So good," he murmurs, releasing me. "So fucking sweet."
He opens his eyes, and the look in them makes my breath catch. Then, I watch, mesmerized, as he rises up higher onto his knees and grips his dick tightly, pumping slowly, from base to tip, and I am transfixed by the sight. By the sheer, masculine beauty of him.
I am panting, my whole body trembling. He is holding me on the brink, a delicate balance between pleasure and madness. A single push, a single word, and I’ll fall.
He lets go of himself and presses the head of his cock against my clit, stroking it slowly.
I gasp, my back arching, my hips rolling. It feels incredible. His smooth, hot skin against the most sensitive part of me, the pressure sending little sparks of electricity through my entire system.
"You close, Doctor?" he asks, a smug tilt to his lips. "You want to come for me again?"
I can't form words. I can only nod, my breath catching in a sob of pure need.
Another firm stroke of his cock nearly has me whimpering as it moves against my clit.
"Look at me," he commands, and my eyes fly open to meet his. I didn’t even realize I closed them. His gaze is intense, burning with a fire that feels like it could consume us both.
Then he does something that steals the air from my lungs.
He takes my hands, which have been fisted in the pillows at my sides, and places them on my own breasts.
"Touch yourself for me, Teresa," he murmurs, his eyes watching me.
For a second, I freeze. The request is so intimate, so personal, it’s more vulnerable than being naked.
But then I see the look in his eyes. He wants this. He wants to see me lose myself. To see me pleasure myself. For him.
I feel myself getting wetter, which has him rubbing harder against me.
Slowly, I obey.
I cup the weight of my breasts, my thumbs brushing over the already tight, sensitive nipples. I bite my lower lip as a jolt of pleasure shoots through me. The feel of my own hands on my body, with him watching, is intoxicating.
"That's it," he breathes.
He continues to rub himself against me, matching the rhythm I’m setting. I circle my nipples, teasing them, pulling them. The sensation is incredible, and I’m so turned on I can barely think straight.
He reaches for my hand again and guides my fingers to my slick folds, pulling his dick back slightly to make room. He presses one of my own fingers into my heat, just as I have before.
Just as I did the night I saw him at the grocery store and left hot and bothered after a simple conversation about food. My breath hitches at the invasion. At the intimacy of it.
And Vito watches.
He watches me with an expression that is pure hunger as I slowly thrust my finger in and out of myself, getting used to the feel of my own body under his gaze.
"More," he says.
I add another finger, stretching myself, mirroring what he did to me earlier, though my fingers aren’t nearly as long and thick as his. My hips move, riding my own hand.
"You have no idea what you look like right now," he groans, his gaze fixed on where my fingers disappear inside me. "So fucking beautiful."
I look up at him, at the raw desire on his face, at the hard planes of his chest, the tension in his jaw. The beautiful tattoos on his skin. I see the control he’s exercising, the restraint he's holding onto by a thread.
And I want to break it.
I withdraw my fingers, slick with my own arousal, and lift them to his lips.
His eyes flare with a dark heat. He closes his lips around them, sucking them clean, his tongue swirling around my fingertips. The sight is erotic, possessive. It sends a fresh wave of heat through me.
When he releases me, I bring my fingers back to my own body, spreading the wetness from his mouth over my clit.
I start to rub in slow, tight circles, my breath catching.
Vito takes control, rubbing the head of his dick through my folds over and over, coating himself in me, but never, ever entering me.
It's torture.