5. Ophelia
Ophelia
Before I know what’s happening, Antonio stands, looping one arm beneath my knees and the other around my back, scooping me into his arms. “Where’s your bedroom, Ophelia?” His voice is gruff with need.
That need is echoed with my own words. “Top of the stairs, last door on the right.” I can’t remember the last time I was this turned on by a man.
Maybe never. I thought maybe the onset of menopause would dull my libido, but it only seems to have triggered some horny button inside me.
Or perhaps it’s the man holding me like I’m both a treasure and a conquest.
He takes the steps two-by-two, and seconds later, we’re in my bedroom with the door closed.
When he dips his head to kiss me again, I take the opportunity to run my hands over his shoulders and down his arms. He’s so damn muscular and hard…
almost as hard as what I felt between his legs earlier.
Hell’s bells, that thing was like a battering ram, and my thighs pinch together in anticipation.
Antonio notices the small move and pulls out of the kiss, his eyes dropping down my body. “Are you feeling a little needy, love?”
I nod stupidly because good lord! That accent and the way he calls me love and darlin’ are doing unexpected things to my lady parts. Not to mention his big body holding me easily and the full beard covering his handsome face.
There’s something a little wild about this man, and it only makes me want him more.
He sets me down oh, so gently and strokes my cheek with a rough thumb. “I’ll take care of you.”
My eyes practically cross at that, and something pulses down below, an overwhelming desire to be cared for and ravaged at the same time. Antonio Walsh looks like he could do both, with maybe a tad more ravaging than caring. Fine by me.
I reach for the hem of his shirt, desperate to see what’s underneath, and he has to help me pull it off over his upstretched arms because the man is so damn tall.
His body is even more beautiful than I expected, his skin covered with ink and scars. He has a masculine smattering of hair over his broad chest, and it tapers down over his stomach and into the waistband of his jeans. Antonio doesn’t have an ounce of fat, but his torso is thick.
“Can I touch you?” I ask breathily, and he chuckles.
“Darlin’, you can do any damn thing you please to me. I’m yours.”
Well, if I wasn’t wet before, I sure as hell am now.
My hands look small when I place them on his chest, and the raw masculinity of this man has my temperature rising by the second.
His skin is warm, and his hair is coarse beneath my fingers when I roam them up his chest and to his shoulders.
Antonio’s arms are covered with tattoos, most of them Celtic in design.
“You were shot?” I ask, circling two puckered scars on his right shoulder.
“Aye. In Yemen.”
I drag my fingers down to a long scar that extends from his stomach and around his left side. “What happened here?”
“Knife wound, but I can’t tell you where I got it,” he says, smiling apologetically.
“Or you’d have to kill me?” I tease, and his dark brows lower over his green eyes.
“Never, Ophelia. I would never hurt a hair on your pretty head.” He lifts my chin until I’m looking up at him. “I would flay myself open before I’d let any harm come to you. Understood?”
“Yes,” I whisper, mesmerized by his dark intensity. He makes me feel both unstable and precious, like I’m in the presence of a danger that would never dare to mistreat me.
His eyes search my face before he dips his head to kiss me.
It starts out slow and sensual but soon turns hungry and frantic.
“Goddamn, woman. What are you doing to me?” he growls, his Irish accent seeming to get more pronounced as his arousal grows.
And there’s definitely some growing going on, right against my stomach.
When Antonio kisses down the side of my neck and slides his hands up beneath my shirt, my nerves sink in, and I tilt my forehead against his shoulder. So many of the women I know have had tummy tucks and boob lifts, and they look decades younger, but I’ve never had any work done.
“I don’t have the body of a twenty-year-old,” I admit quietly against his bare, hot flesh, and he lifts his head, a look of consternation creasing his brow.
“Well I hope to fuck you don’t. I’m looking to fuck a woman, love, not a girl.”
His words warm something inside me, but I feel the need to clarify. “I just mean, I have… flaws. I keep myself fit, but I’m definitely not perfect.”
He takes my hands and runs them over his scars. “Then I guess we’re even.” Gripping my right hand, he drags it down to his crotch. “Feel how turned on you have me, Ophelia? You’re so fucking sexy.”
I grip him and swallow hard. Dear god. The man is enormous, and I hope to hell he knows what to do with that thing or I might end up in the hospital.
“So are you,” I breathe as he resumes kissing my neck.
The roughness of his beard contrasts beautifully with the velvety laps of his tongue against my skin.
I unbutton and unzip his jeans, reaching my hand inside to stroke him through his underwear.
Antonio makes a sound of approval and presses his hips forward into my palm.
“I want you to see for yourself what your body does to me,” he declares, pulling away before unceremoniously stripping down his pants and underwear, leaving him gloriously naked in front of me.
I gape like I’ve never seen a naked man before because holy hell.
Antonio Walsh is one fine specimen. “Come here, love.”
While I’m still in a naked-man daze, he takes my hand and leads me toward the spacious sitting area in the corner of my bedroom.
I walk a couple steps behind him to check out his ass.
Yep, just as I suspected… firm, muscular, and as biteable as a juicy peach, which is a weird thought since I’ve never had the urge to bite a man’s ass before.
Antonio sits on the couch, his erection resting against his stomach as I stand in front of him.
He reaches for it and gives it one long stroke.
“This is what you do to me.” I stare mesmerized as he holds it up for my viewing pleasure.
His large hand encircles the base “I want you to undress for me and watch my cock’s response. We’ll see if he notices any flaws.”
Somehow his request sweeps away any insecurities I may have been feeling, and my confidence returns. Grabbing the hem of my lavender top, I pull it over my head and toss it to the side. When I return my gaze to Antonio, he looks like a starving man who’s just spotted a medium rare steak.
“Goddamn, Ophelia. You have nothing to be shy about. You are exquisite.”
That only further emboldens me, and I hold eye contact with him as I unfasten my jeans. Bending to push them down, I take a deep breath and work them over my feet. When I stand in only my navy satin demi-bra with a navy lace overlay and matching panties, Antonio groans his approval.
“If you’ll notice, our little friend hasn’t lost interest at all,” he says, giving himself another long stroke. My eyes drop to his cock, and it seems to have thickened, the head flushing a deep red color.
“Little friend?” I question with a smirk.
He leans on the back of the couch and spreads his legs, a move so arrogant and masculine I can feel my wetness soaking through my panties. Antonio’s lips quirk up at one corner.
“Relatively speaking. Show me your tits.”
Jesus, his gruff, commanding voice makes my knees weak, and I reach behind me to unclasp the bra, allowing it to fall to the floor. My breasts hang a little lower without the support, but Antonio doesn’t seem to mind one bit.
“You are fucking perfect, darlin’. I’ll be spending some time with those beauties in my mouth later.” His gaze drops conspicuously to my panties, and I wonder if he can see the wet spot forming there. “Now let me see that pretty cunt you’re hiding behind those sweet panties.”
I’m so turned on I’m physically unable to disobey, so I do as I’m told, hooking my thumbs into the hips of my panties and sliding them down. “I had a C-section with the twins,” I say when I step out of the silky fabric.
“I can see that. Is that supposed to bother me?” He nods at his penis, and I look down to see pre-ejaculate drizzling over the crown and down the heavy shaft.
“Look at my cock, love. It’s dripping for you.
He thinks you’re just as gorgeous as I do because you got that scar doing the most beautiful thing a person can do. ”
Biting back tears, I say, “Thank you. You make me feel beautiful.”
Antonio’s hand gathers the sticky fluid and uses it to lubricate his dick, leaving it glistening in the lamplight. “You are, Ophelia. Count yourself lucky I haven’t tackled you to the ground and fucked you right on the goddamn floor. Because that’s all I can think of right now.”
The image that brings to mind is so carnal and delicious, I let out a groan. Antonio stands and steps into my space, his dick poking against my stomach. He smiles wickedly.
“Is that what you want, darlin’? You want to be fucked on the floor like an animal?”
I’m literally about to come from his dirty mouth and his masculine scent filling my nose. “Yes,” I admit.
He grabs me, his erection heavy against my belly as he pulls me close and whispers against my mouth, “Mmm, my Ophelia girl wants to get down and dirty, does she?” He licks my lips. “Good thing that’s my specialty, love.” Then his mouth is crushing mine, the kiss brutal and mind-bending.
I climb the man like an oak tree, and he supports me with his hands on my butt, holding my pelvis against his.
I flex my hips up and down his length, and he lets me ride, guiding me with strong fingers pressed into my backside.
Within seconds, his cock is soaked with my arousal, and we’re both groaning.
“Antonio, I need you inside me,” I whimper, clutching his dark hair between my fingers.