What if I squash you?
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
LINNEA
“Where do you want me?” Aiden asks. This tan, sculpted man and his massive erection. Where do I even start? I know what I want to do.
Do I dare to?
Fuck, he’s got me soaking wet. Three times, he had me so close to coming.
That cheeky man, edging me like that. He’s incredible.
Softly, kindly, gently trying to make me come, but never insisting.
Just allowing me to get to know myself. What makes my toes curl.
And fuck, it all feels incredible with Aiden.
“You said you want to ride me,” he says. “Come on my face, Linnea.”
How does he read my mind like that? I want to ride his face so badly. To feel that thick tongue of his between my legs.
He lies down and I crawl over him.
“Gladly,” I breathe, and rub my wet folds and throbbing clit on his hard cock as I make my way up. He groans and grabs me, manoeuvring me up to his face. To his now dark, hooded eyes and that easy, sexy smile. Ready to devour me. With my knees on either side of his head, he nudges me to lower down.
“What if I squash you?”
“I’ll die happy.”
I laugh, but let him guide me down, and when his mouth makes contact right where my body is aching for it, I’m lost. Moving with his tongue, I grind against his mouth and his chin, showing him I want it more, deeper, harder. I take what I want.
Me doing this, taking control and allowing myself to receive pleasure, says more than words ever could express. He’s opened me up in a way I never imagined could be possible.
This. This is a new me. I’m riding my boyfriend’s face.
I cry out, louder and louder, I’m close, and it’s so deep.
The heat spreads from somewhere inside, and then it erupts—searing up through my stomach, down my legs, and for a moment I’m nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
Aiden grabs a hold on my arse cheeks, sucking and licking while I quiver, until I fold over onto the side.
“Wow,” I pant.
“Wow, indeed,” Aiden says from my side and I turn my face to look at him. He has my arousal on his chin, and I laugh, wiping it off.
“You are amazing,” I say. “I feel like a different person.”
“This is all you, Linnea.”
“It’s us,” I say, turning onto my side to face him, and he stretches out a hand, caressing my curve and hip.
“Us,” he repeats.
“Can I make you come now?” I ask, grabbing his cock in my hand and slowly slide down. I want to lick the tight head. Make him groan the way he does.
“Hold on.” He moves to the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands. His erection stands tall, taut and dripping with pre-cum. All ready for me. “This way will be good for you,” he says, and I trust whatever he has in mind. He knows my vagina better than I do by now.
“Oh, the other way around?” I ask, and he nods. “But I won’t see your gorgeous orgasm face. I love that face.” It’s only when he freezes with his mouth half-open that I realise what I said. It’s a turn of phrase, that’s all.
Just keep smiling.
“Turn the mirror this way,” he says, gesturing to his cheval mirror by the dresser on the opposite wall.
“I like the way you think,” I say and check the angle from where he sits on the edge of the bed. He’s had an erection for a very long time now, poor man. I grab a condom from the bedside table and roll it on with both hands.
“I love your cock.” Whoops, there it is again. “It’s majestic,” I add, pretending I didn’t just say that word twice. He chuckles, but his eyes are droopy, his jaw slack. He didn’t notice.
“Turn around,” he growls.
“Turn around, what?” I say, standing in front of him, biting my lip.
“Please?” There’s that delicious smile again.
“Good boy.”
He laughs, and I do as he says. He scoots to the very edge of the mattress and guides me down, my arse against his stomach, lining his cock up with my still-slick entrance.
I need to push his cock and lean back to get him inside at this angle, but I inch down slowly, relishing the feeling of him stretching me out.
His breath on my neck, his hands roaming my skin, and the tightness as he fills me up…
It’s everything. Then I start moving up and down, and I realise why he wanted me facing this way.
His cock hits where he was working his fingers earlier, and after three near-orgasms and one big one, I’m seriously tender. So sensitive.
“Oh God,” I breathe.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice strained. Fuck, he must be holding on for dear life.
“I’m more than okay. This is it, Aiden. This angle.
All this…” I can’t talk. I move where I need it, slowly up and down, leaning forward slightly.
My legs are burning already, but I need to push through.
Aiden grunts and groans and it’s so fucking sexy watching him in the mirror.
The way his jaw’s slack, and then he bites his lower lip, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallows.
The tingling starts deep inside, and I’m about to cry.
It’s happening.
I keep moving.
“Right there,” I moan, meeting Aiden’s eye in the mirror. “It’s so good.”
He rolls his hips as I move down, he’s deeper than ever, and we keep going slow, grinding his cock inside me.
The heat in my lower belly uncoils. It’s growing, swelling, and then it bursts through me as if all the orgasms I never had hit me all at once.
I let out a loud cry as the waves crash over me, and Aiden wraps his arms around me, thrusting into me—he’s losing control of his rhythm, but it doesn’t matter.
Every thrust, every move, every inch of him touching me is like fireworks.
The pleasure and warmth radiate through my body, into my fingertips, through my tired legs.
I lean my head back on Aiden, and he lays us down on the bed, rolling sideways.
He holds me tight, breathing hard, his stomach against my back, his thighs against mine, and my mind is still.
A tickle on my temple makes me rub it away, and it occurs to me it’s a tear. Jesus, what a ride. Literally.
“You did it,” he whispers, and that’s when it starts for real.
I sob and cover my eyes with my hands, the tears streaming down the side of my face and onto the bed. Aiden removes himself from inside me but he’s quickly back again with his arms around me. Just holding me, brushing my hair off my forehead, kissing my neck.
I turn in his arms and kiss him softly. I don’t have words. Just a lot of feelings. Too many feelings.
“I love your orgasm face too,” Aiden says, tracing a finger down my jaw, and I laugh, but it’s also a bit of a sob. Aiden grins at me, which makes it even worse. Or better. He’s so fucking beautiful my heart hurts.
We lie like that for a while. My body flush to his, my head on his chest listening to his heartbeat, one of his arms snug around my hip. He caresses circles on the hand I’m using to grope his abnormally delicious pecs.
This is what it’s meant to be like.
I never had this with Henry. Not a single moment was this good with him. But I’m not lingering on those thoughts anymore. I don’t have space for them. In fact, there are no regrets anymore because it all brought me here. To Aiden.
Aiden, who’s liked me since the start, even if he didn’t realise. Maybe we have that in common. Maybe that’s why I kept pushing him away. Although I’ll never know for sure. My memories of Aiden are rose-tinted by my feelings for him today. And fuck, I feel a lot for this man.
My man.
My Aiden.
A soft kiss against my temple is what wakes me up. The Friday morning sun streams through the window. My body’s limp and sore in all the right places after another week of dreamy sex and dreamy everything. Lack of sleep is an issue, but it’s for the very best of reasons.
“Linnea,” Aiden whispers, stroking a hand from my neck, down my arm, my naked waist, and hip. He’s hard behind me and I moan as he lines his warm, hard cock up against my arse. I arch back against him. My eyes are still closed, but my clit is on fire and I need him to touch me.
“Mmm,” is all I manage. His hand moves over my hip bone and he lets out the sexiest sound as his fingers make contact with my wet pussy.
I move my knee up to give him more space.
Wordlessly, we grind against each other, and I try to line him up with my entrance.
Hinting at him to fuck me like this. I’m a very horny little spoon, and he’s a fucking hard, massive spoon.
It turns me on so much I’m about to combust under his hand.
He disappears for a moment but I hear the familiar crinkling of a condom wrapper and, still in my semi-sleepy but one hundred per cent aroused state, I wait.
Warm and contented. Then he’s back, the heat of his body against mine, and he grabs my leg to angle me.
I arch back and guide with a hand, and he eases in.
Letting me stretch to accommodate him. He rolls his hips, filling me up with a sexy growl that vibrates in his chest. He plays with my swollen clit, and I lean my head back to feel even more of him.
“Talk to me,” I say. “I love your voice in my ear.”
With his warm skin against my back, his hand working my front, and his cock deep inside me, the heat builds. It’s magical. All of this. My nerve endings are vibrating with pleasure, and I’m ready to burst.
He leans in, close to my ear, his breath tickling my cheek.
“You’re extraordinary, Linnea. I want to wake up like this every morning. Want to feel your tight, wet pussy around my cock just like this.”
“Yes. More.”
He groans, rolling his hips. “The sounds you make for me,” he says, his voice strained now, and I moan in response. “Yeah, just like that. You drive me wild.”
The sound of his voice in my ear and the rumble through his chest that’s pressed against me push me closer.
“So good,” I breathe.
“You feel fucking sensational,” he murmurs into my neck.
When he nibbles at my shoulder with another groan, it takes me over the edge.
Pleasure radiates through me, and I clench around his thick cock, riding an orgasm that crashes over me in waves as Aiden grasps my hip and drives his cock deep into me, faster and harder, until he loses control.
I moan with each thrust he delivers, filling me to the brim. And by the end, I’m reduced to a quivering, panting mess. A satisfied mess.
We shower together, and have sex again, this time he fucks me from behind with the shower head on my front. He takes me hard on my demand, slapping loudly against my arse. I cry out, not holding anything back.
We’re thoroughly late for work and I look … well, I look fucked. But honestly, I couldn’t care less. I feel amazing. My vagina is deliciously sore, my clit’s still tingling, and I think I might be high. A happy-hormone high from an overdose of orgasms.
Aiden’s made me a coffee and we sit at the kitchen island, smiling at each other.
“Let’s eat before we go,” he says. “My chef has left us food.”
“When was your chef here?”
“She usually comes in around 6 a.m. and cooks up for the day.”
I swallow a large gulp of coffee and cough.
“She was here while I was screaming in the shower!”
He shrugs, but I gape at him and he laughs.
“Nothing to be ashamed of.” He grins. “I’m sure my bass-grunting carried further than your voice but you don’t see me blushing about it.”
“I’m not blushing,” I say, touching my ear. Yes, I am.
“Sex with you is out of this world, I’m not going to be quiet,” he says.
I beam at him. “It really is divine.”
The doorbell rings just as Aiden takes a container out of the fridge. He knits his brow and checks his watch.
“Not expecting anyone?” I ask.
“No…” he says, dragging the word out. “Odd.”
He answers the intercom, but I can’t hear what the other person says. Sounds like a delivery. He buzzes them in and returns to the kitchen with a glint in his eye.
“I have a surprise for you.”
“What?”
“It’s something I ordered for the wedding—if you want to wear it then, that’s up to you.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see in a minute.”
There’s a knock on the door and we both go to answer. A black-haired young man stands at the door with a large garment bag held up.
It has large, swirling golden letters.
Casa Aurato.
“Aiden,” I breathe, my stomach tingling at the sight of the logo.
“The lady said she had a few favourites you’d suit, but the main thing is the dress.” He turns to the man and thanks him, and passes me the bag. I carry it over to the couch, in a trance. And while I zip it open and see the royal blue dress, I only distantly register they’re speaking in Italian.
“Wow,” I whisper at what I find inside. I need to hang this up so I can take the rest out. I look up to tell Aiden, but he’s still talking to the man. He glances at me and says something more to the man. Seems a bit heated, but it’s hard to tell when it’s a passionate kind of language.
Aiden ends the conversation in what seems a rather abrupt way. I need to translate those words later.
Or I could just ask…
I’m still standing with the garment bag in my hands when Aiden returns, and seeing him with a worry crease makes me tense up. He says he never worries.
“What’s wrong? Who was that?”
Aiden exhales, and I put the bag down and walk to him, wanting to be close when he seems upset, to rub away the lines from his forehead.
“Uh… He just had a lot of questions about where I got the clothes. Was getting a bit annoying in the end there.”
“What did you say to him, dico sono something?” I ask, completely butchering the words, I’m sure. “You said it in the end.”
“Dica loro che non sono interessato,” he repeats, his voice clipped, almost cold. “Tell them I’m not interested.”
“Tell who? What are you not interested in?”
“Oh, uh… more clothes. He was being salesy.”
I get that unease in my gut—he’s not telling me everything. I want to press on. I want to know. Why is he not telling me the truth? Or maybe he is and I’m just a paranoid mess.
“Is that all?” I ask, and I hate how small my voice sounds. “Do you want to talk about Florence?”
“That’s not a conversation to have right before we go to work.”
“I thought we were eating.”
“I’ll have to take it to go. There’s something I need to sort out.” He traces a thumb across his lower lip, his eyes unfocused.
“Oh.”
I don’t hide my disappointment, and he drops his hand, shaking himself back into focus before stepping closer.
“Did you like the dress?” he asks, nodding towards the couch.
The dress.
I turn to where I put the garment bag down. “I love it, thank you. Although you shouldn’t have. It must have cost a fortune.”
“Will you wear it to the wedding? You can take it home with you now. Mo will drive you.” He traces his lower lip with a finger, again he seems distant. Like he’s saying words but his mind is elsewhere.
“I’ll come back later and grab it, okay?”
He nods, staring blankly at the garment bag. And after a moment that stretches longer than I like, he says, “Sure.”
“Alright.” There’s something in the air right now and I can’t put my finger on it. What just happened?