Chapter Six
Elsa
I stand and let him watch me. Let him see the dress he does not like. First, I take my shoes off, toss them somewhere behind me.
When he realizes what I’m doing, Antonio leans back, propped on his elbows, watching me with those heated eyes.
I hook my thumbs into the sides of my panties and slowly slide them down my legs.
I can hear him breathing in the quiet room.
He pushes himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. His dark eyes are locked on my hands. He looks half-wild, all that practiced charm gone, stripped away to raw desire. The sight sends a fresh wave of heat through me. I drop the panties to the floor.
His gaze is a brand on my skin, and my body responds, nipples hardening into tight peaks, a fresh gush of slick heat between my thighs.
I reach under the dress and unhook my bra, then slowly slide each strap down my arms. I pull it out and toss it with my panties. He groans, the sound so low and guttural it sends a shiver through me.
He reaches for me now, but I step back, just out of reach. His hands fall to his knees, frustration tightening his jaw.
"Patience, Antonio," I say, my voice husky.
"I'm not a patient man," he growls, but he stays where he is, watching, waiting.
He deserves a little torture.
I smile and turn my back to him. I look over my shoulder and give him a wicked look as I slowly pull the zipper down.
"Tease," he accuses.
"Only a little," I say.
He growls again as the dress loosens.
"How are you feeling about this dress now?" I look over my shoulder again, bite my lip as I push one strap off my shoulder.
"Hating it more and more every second," he says, the words strained. "Get it off. Now."
"Now, when you said the floor of your bedroom..." I push the other strap off my shoulder but hold it against my chest. The back dips to give him a tantalizing view. "Is this what you had in mind?"
"Elsa," he warns. "I've never been much on spanking, but we're getting there."
A small sound escapes me at the image, my clit pulsing in response.
"Be careful, I might like that," I say.
"Drop it. Now," he says sternly.
The tone has a fresh pool gathering between my legs.
The dress puddles at my feet, but I don't turn around just yet. I can feel his eyes on me, my back, my legs, my ass.
"Bend over for me," he says, his voice hoarse.
My eyes widen, genuinely shocked. "Antonio."
"You started this game, dolcezza. Now play it. Bend. Over."
And so I do.
I bend at the waist, slowly, giving him the view he asked for. A sharp inhale tells me he's appreciating it.
"Perfetto," he breathes. "I'm going to enjoy that. Now turn around."
I do, slowly, and stand before him completely bare.
His eyes sweep over me, hot and possessive. He pushes up and stalks toward me, all that pent-up energy coiling in him.
When he reaches me, he doesn't touch me. He circles me, predatorily, like he's appraising a prize, and I have to fight the urge to cover myself. I stand my ground, chin high.
When he's in front of me again, he stops.
"You're even more perfect than I imagined," he murmurs. "Sei tutta la mia."
"What does that mean?" I whisper.
"You are all mine," he says, his hands moving to my waist and pulling me flush against him. The fabric of his pants is rough against my sensitive skin.
"Am I?" I challenge, my hands moving to his chest.
He doesn't answer. He just leans down and kisses me, a hard, demanding kiss that claims me, body and soul. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, tasting me, claiming me. I kiss him back, my hands tangling in his hair, my body pressing against his.
I want him. I want him inside me. I want him to fill me, to claim me, to make me his.
He lifts me as if I weigh nothing.
"Your scar," I gasp.
But he just walks me to the bed and lays me down, then follows, covering me with his body. He still has his pants on, and the friction against my bare skin is delicious, a torment that makes me ache for more.
His lips trail down my neck, over my collarbone, down to my breasts. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, and I cry out, arching into him. His teeth graze the sensitive peak, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my core.
He moves to the other breast, giving it the same attention, while his hand slides down my body, over my stomach, between my legs. He cups me, his fingers teasing my folds, sliding through the slickness there.
"Antonio," I moan, my hips rocking against his hand. "Please."
He slides a finger inside me, and I gasp, my inner walls clamping down on him. He adds another finger, stretching me, preparing me, and I'm so close to the edge, so ready to shatter.
I bring his mouth back to mine and slip my tongue between his lips, fucking him with my tongue, the same way I want him to fuck me with his cock.
He must like it because he growls into my mouth and starts fucking me hard and fast. The heel of his palm rubs against my clit with each thrust of his fingers, and I'm spiraling, my body tensing as the pleasure builds.
I'm going to come. I'm going to come all over his hand.
"Don't you dare stop," I pant. "Don't you dare stop."
"I wouldn't dream of it," he growls, and then he's kissing me again, swallowing my cries as I shatter, my body convulsing, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over me.
I'm still gasping for breath, and my hands are frantic, tugging at his pants, wanting him naked, wanting all of him.
He chuckles against my lips, the sound a low, sexy rumble. "Impatient, dolcezza?"
"Cock, now," I say and bite his lip, almost violently.
He finally gets the message and pushes off me to finish the job. I watch as he stands and shoves his pants and briefs down, kicking them away.
He was already in my throat, but seeing him jutting out, thick, hard, and ready for me, my breath catches in my throat. The lights from the city catch in the moisture on the tip, and my mouth waters.
But I want him inside me.
He sees it in my eyes. He's on me in a second, pushing my legs apart with his knees, settling between them. He takes his cock in his hand, guides it to my entrance, and then he's there, pressing against me, teasing me, torturing me.
"Look at me," he commands.
I meet his gaze, and what I see there steals my breath. It's not just desire, it's… something more. Something deeper. Something that terrifies me and excites me in equal measure.
"Sei tutta la mia," he says again and gives me no time to breath.
He thrusts in me, hard, and I scream, my body stretching to accommodate him. My hands fist in the sheets at the delicious mix of pain and pleasure
He groans and stills. "You okay?"
"Fuck me," I cry out, and he doesn't need to be told twice.
He starts moving, and it's a rhythm I've never experienced, a perfect, intoxicating blend of power and control, of aggression and tenderness.
He's watching me, his dark eyes burning into mine, and I feel exposed, vulnerable, and more alive than I've ever felt.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groans, his hips driving into me, hitting a spot deep inside me that feels impossibly good. The sounds of our bodies slapping together, our ragged breaths, our desperate moans fill the room, a symphony of raw, unadulterated need.
My body is a live wire, every nerve ending tingling, every cell screaming for more. I arch my back, meeting him thrust for thrust.
"Antonio," I moan, my hands sliding down his back, my nails digging into his skin. "Harder."
He complies, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding. I feel a fresh wave of arousal at the roughness, at the way he's taking me, claiming me.
"I'm going to come again," I gasp, my body tightening, the familiar tingling starting at the base of my spine. "Oh God, Antonio..."
"Come for me, Elsa," he growls, his voice a low, sexy rumble against my ear. "Let go. I've got you."
The unexpected tenderness of the words with the powerful thrusts is my undoing. The orgasm that tears through me is more powerful than the last, a blinding, soul-shattering explosion of pleasure that leaves me breathless, boneless, and shaking.
He pulls out of me, shoves my knees up, and licks my pussy from bottom to top in one long, slow stroke. I scream, my body arching off the bed as he devours me, his tongue, his lips, his teeth driving me wild.
I don't know how much more I can take. I'm overstimulated, my body a quivering mess, but he doesn't stop, and I don't want him to. I want to give him everything.
He pulls back with a pained hiss, and I realize the angle that he's leaning over me is probably straining his wound.
I sit up and put my hands on his shoulders. "Antonio, you don't have to," I say, breathless.
His lips are glistening, and I nearly moan and lick them.
"Have to?" he says roughly. "You think I'm eating your delicious pussy because I have to? Dolcezza, I have to, but not in the way you think."
Then he shifts to get on the bed and lie back.
"Sit on my face," he says.
"What?" I choke out. He can't be serious.
"You heard me," he says, a smirk playing on those lips that were just on me.
Oh.
Oh.
My core clenches at the thought. At the visual.
"I'm starving here, sweetheart," he says, pained. "A dying man, desperate for one last meal."
I can't help it. I laugh. It's the last thing I expected him to say, and it's so absurd, so unexpected, that it breaks the tension, and I find myself moving before I've even made a conscious decision.
I straddle his face, my knees on either side of his head, while he positions me where he wants me.
Awkwardly, I hover, unsure what to do.
He wraps his arms around my thighs and yanks me down.
Then he starts to eat.
And it's… everything.
His tongue is magic, swirling, flicking, probing. His lips are soft and demanding, sucking, nipping, kissing. He knows exactly what he's doing, exactly how to drive me wild, how to push me to the brink and pull me back, how to make me beg.
And I do. I beg. I plead. I scream his name, my hands fisting in the sheets, in his hair, in my own hair, my body writhing above him.
He eats me with a hunger that's almost feral, his hands holding me in place, his tongue and lips and teeth working me relentlessly.
I'm so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet I've never felt more powerful. I'm riding his face, taking my pleasure from him, and he's giving it to me freely, eagerly. It's a heady, intoxicating feeling, a rush of power and submission all at once.
I can feel another orgasm building, a slow, deep wave of pleasure that starts in my toes and works its way up my body.
"Antonio," I gasp, my hips rocking against his face. "I'm going to come."
He groans against me, the vibrations sending a fresh jolt of pleasure through me. He doubles down on me, but then he does something that pushes me over the edge. He uses a finger to rub my asshole.
I scream his name, my body convulsing as the orgasm crashes over me, more intense than anything I've ever experienced. I'm there, I'm flying, I'm shattering into a million pieces
But he doesn't stop. His tongue continues its assault, driving me to heights I didn't know existed. The pleasure is almost too much, too intense, and I'm not sure I can take it.
"Antonio," I gasp, my body trembling. "I can't. I can't."
He just holds me tight and keeps going, and the pleasure builds again, a slow, inexorable wave that threatens to drown me. I'm at his mercy, completely and utterly, and I've never been more turned on in my life.
His hands roam my body, cupping my breasts, pinching my nipples, sliding down my back, gripping my ass. He's everywhere at once, a whirlwind of sensation, and I'm lost in it, lost in him.
I can feel the pressure building again, a familiar tightening in my core, a tingling in my limbs.
I lean forward and grab the headboard as I ride him, grinding myself onto that talented tongue. And I am not gentle.
He groans again, the vibrations sending a fresh jolt of pleasure through me. His tongue is a weapon of mass destruction, a relentless, delicious torment that has me on the verge of tears.
I'm so close, so incredibly close, teetering on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall.
"Please," I beg, my voice a ragged whisper. I don’t even know what I’m begging for at this point.
I look down my body at him, at the dark head buried between my thighs, and the sight is so erotic, so utterly captivating, that it sends a fresh wave of arousal through me.
The orgasm that tears through me is a cataclysm, a seismic event that rocks me to my very core. I scream, a raw, primal sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure, and then I'm gone, lost in a vortex of sensation, a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds and feelings.
I collapse forward, my body limp, my mind a blank slate. I'm spent, drained, utterly and completely sated.
I feel him shift, and then he's easing me off him, laying me down on the bed, splayed on my stomach. He's over me, his body a warm, solid weight against my back. His lips nibble the back of my neck, pulling a moan out of me.
I'm completely spent and boneless, yet I feel my desire rushing through me again.
He's still hard, his cock pressing against the back of my thigh, and I know he's not done with me yet. A thrill runs through me.
"You're going to kill me," I whisper, face pressed against the pillow.
"A glorious death, don't you think?" he murmurs, a smile in his voice.
"Definitely glorious," I agree. I wiggle my ass enticingly back against him. He groans, rocking his hips against me.