Chapter 9 #2
“Marco.” His name flies from my lips with a gasp, and I’m not sure why. But it feels good to say it, so I say it again. And again.
Suddenly, I’m flat on my back and he’s leaning over me, staring down into my eyes with the moon and stars behind him. His breath is hard but controlled, and I can tell something is different this time for him, too.
“How much will you let me give you? How much pleasure?”
My breath shudders. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
Cupping my cheek again, he presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth, my brow, my forehead, so tender I die a little inside. This sweetness will be my ruin.
Still, I can’t hold myself back when Marco whispers, “Then let me give you that pleasure. Let me explore you, and you tell me when to stop.”
I nod and try to relax as his hands start exploring my body over my dress.
My skin comes to life at the feel of his fingers running lightly over my torso.
Dipping his head low, he cruises my neck with his lips and takes my earlobe lightly between his teeth.
I gasp, gripping his shoulders tightly. His hands move along the neckline of my dress, giving me goosebumps, and then down my bare arms. So slowly, so gently, drumming up trails of pleasure wherever they go.
His lips move along my jaw and then meet my mouth.
I sigh with contentment as our tongues tangle.
My thighs fall open then, as if my body knows exactly what it wants.
What it needs.
“Marco.” It comes out desperate this time. I’m aching with a desire that I don’t know how to fulfill.
He puts his wet, open mouth over my breast, breathing hot through the fabric of my dress.
It takes my breath away, my nipples perking and tingling against the skintight layers of material.
My hips push against his with a mind of their own and I want this stupid dress gone, I want nothing between us but skin.
But I know we have to be careful. My clothing has to be perfect, not a single bead out of place, so no one will know what I’ve done.
Marco pulls back, breathing hard. “I know you can’t spend the night with me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make you come.”
I’m already panting, but his words send a fresh wave of heat to my core. I can feel my knees trembling as his hand goes under my skirt, stroking my ankle, my calf, my inner thigh. And then his finger is stroking between my legs, rubbing the fabric of my underwear.
Startling at the contact, I take a deep breath and try to relax, widening my legs to give him better access.
He takes full advantage, two of his fingers now rubbing lightly up and down my crease through my soaked panties.
I watch as Marco tenses, his whole demeanor focused and serious, as if he’s only got one thing on his mind: Me.
When he slides his thumb over my clit, white light flashes behind my eyes. I let out a moan as he captures my lips and kisses me hard, deep.
He doesn’t try to take my underwear off, doesn’t even try to slip his fingers under the material, but he also doesn’t let up.
He strokes me faster, light and soft, then harder, deeper, as if he’s trying to feel me, the real me.
I can’t hold still as sparks of pleasure spiral through me.
He’s touching there, right there, as if he knows exactly what I like.
“You’re so wet for me, my sweet Juliet. If I pumped my fingers inside you right now, how much wetter would you be?”
My cheeks flame at his dirty mouth, but I love it. I want more.
Instead, he suddenly pulls away, ignoring my desperate attempt to hold him close to me as he wrestles with the endless layers of my skirt, hiking the pile of fabric up until my bare legs are exposed to the night air.
Pushing my thighs wide, Marco dips his head under my skirt and puts his lips where his fingers were.
The heat of his mouth seeps through my underwear and burns against my throbbing clit.
His mouth isn’t even touching my bare skin, but God…
the pressure of his mouth slowly opening and closing…
oh God, that’s his tongue flicking there…
his lips, his teeth, his tongue. A wail escapes me.
My eyes are shut tight, but I swear I can still see the stars.
“Marco, yes, yes,” I moan, over and over again, my hands fisting the blanket as an orgasm explodes through me.
It’s fast and intense and I’m groaning so loud I’m sure all of Napa Valley can hear me.
I’m panting, dying, flying and crashing, grinding myself against his mouth, riding the waves. “Oh my God. Yes. Marco.”
When I finally catch my breath, he moves back and smooths my skirt down before lying beside me again. His fingers trail down the side of my face, and he presses a soft kiss to my lips.
“Just think of what it will be like when I’m inside you,” he says.
I don’t say anything. But inside, I’m thinking only one thing—I can’t wait.
His arm wraps around me and I rest my head on his chest, both of us just breathing each other in beneath the stars. I wish this night could last forever.
Why did I think a quick tryst with him before I got married was all I would want?
I can’t lie to myself—I’m seriously into him.
Is this what all that “love at first sight” stuff is about?
Because I think I finally understand the instalove of Romeo and Juliet.
And if this is the kind of romance that Shakespeare was trying to convey, then yeah. I get it now. I totally get it.
When I look up at Marco again, he has his eyes closed and a smile on his lips. My sweet Romeo…
I’d be wise to remember that Shakespeare’s story ended in tragedy.
But I can’t help dreaming that ours won’t.