Chapter Eleven
Eleven
The Last Hours
Daisy
T he taxi ride back to the hotel takes around five minutes, which is good because we don’t have time to cruise around. We desperately need privacy to make love—or rather, have wild sex.
We stand at the back of the boat to let the wind cool our flushed faces, but the suggestive looks we throw each other do nothing to stop our ever-rising libidos.
By the time we reach my room, I’m so hot and nervous I fumble with the key card and adjust the air conditioning at the same time as I kick off my high heels.
Once the room is lit up—soft lamps only—and pleasantly cooling down, I turn around and collide with Lorenzo’s chest. He readily embraces me, and when he leans over to kiss me, the reality of what is happening hits me.
I’m in a luxurious hotel room in Venice with the sexiest man in Italy.
How could I have ever told myself I had no right to live this?
No matter how concerned I’ve been about everything else surrounding this affair, it wouldn’t have been fair to myself—or him—if I hadn’t let our week of intense passion culminate with a night together. It’s what we both have wanted from day one.
I gaze into his beautiful green eyes as he stares passionately at me, caressing my cheek with his thumb, waiting for me to take the lead.
I know now that I’ve been holding back because of fear.
Because I believed a night with Lorenzo would be perfect, the best sex of my life, and then I’d never be able to let go of that.
I’d end up miserable. But I’ve decided to stop denying what I want just because I can’t have it forever.
The memories might haunt me, but no one will ever take them from me.
I’ll always know that one day, in Venice, I was loved.
My standards will rise after this trip, no doubt, but that also means I’m never letting an undeserving man touch me again.
Because I’ve met Lorenzo.
And tonight, he is mine.
I undo his buttons and expose his muscular chest the way I did that day in the Palazzo.
Thinking about the orgasm he gave me there, I kiss him ferociously, lowering the arms of his shirt until it falls to the floor.
He lifts my dress while exploring my thighs and butt, then pulls it over my head.
I stand before him in panties only, both of us breathing heavily, our clothes scattered around us.
His eyes scan my naked body with a hungry determination, but it’s with gentle movements that he approaches me and puts his hands on my waist. He sniffs my neck then plants a slow kiss on my throat, and as I’m lost in his musky scent, head loosely tilted back, supported by his hands, he turns me around, and I realize we are in front of the full-length mirror.
With my back to his chest, I watch our reflection. He runs his hands down the sides of my body, looking at me in the mirror. I shiver from head to toe, aroused—and intimidated by the fully exposed image of my body in front of the fabulous man warming my back with his hot presence.
“Look at yourself,” he says, chin on my collarbone, eyes on our reflection, hands on my hips. “Acknowledge the goddess you are.”
I chuckle, and he runs his hands up my belly, then cups my small breasts, which disappear under his palms. He squeezes them, and I hold my breath.
“Don’t you ever dare think you’re not desirable, Daisy Hogan,” he says on my neck, and I close my eyes to feel the heat running through my body, accumulating in its center.
“You don’t ever need to force a man to love you or respect you.
” He keeps going, touching my body. His fingertips play with my hard nipples, and I look because I’m done being ashamed of my sexual and emotional needs.
I’m done holding back and pretending it’s not important.
My legs tremble, and the heat builds in my core, more ardent every second. I look at Lorenzo’s reflection, the admiration in his eyes, the way he bites his lower lip, controlling his desire.
How much has changed since I arrived! On day one, I was in this room alone after being left by an asshole. And now here I am, with a different man. A man who truly cares and whose mind is unexpectedly in sync with mine.
I turn around, unable to control my longing for Lorenzo, and take his pants off as if we don’t have a second to waste. They pool at his feet with his underwear in a bundle, and he kicks them away. I look at the hard cock I revealed, perfectly erect, ready for me.
I take a moment to observe his magnificent figure.
He’s hot as fuck, with his six-pack, dark hair, olive skin, green eyes, chiseled jawline, broad shoulders…
I groan as I kiss him, now able to feel every muscle in every part of his body.
Oh, how wonderful it is to finally be naked with him and feel his skin against mine…
My legs tremble more, and I guide us toward the bed.
I push him down onto the mattress like a bad girl. He smirks, satisfied, and I get rid of my panties.
“I don’t want to have any debts with you,” I say, climbing up and sitting astride his hips. I hold his cock with both hands, and he grunts, his eyes rolling back. Then I reach for the condom I left under my pillow.
I gently roll the condom down his length, and he looks at me the entire time, hands on my waist. “Don’t do anything…
you don’t…want…” he says between groans of pleasure as I lean over, pressing his cock against my entrance.
I position it so I can feel his hardness on my clit.
More heat accumulates as I increase the pressure with my weight over his.
“Oh, I want to do this,” I say, my mouth hovering over his, the ends of my hair tickling his face. He lifts his head off the mattress a few inches to seize my lips, and I kiss him and kiss him, tongues intertwining, bodies pressing each other for more arousal, more heat. More pleasure.
He then seeks my opening with his fingers, rubbing my clit with such skill, I roll over, lying on my back to relax as I feel his touch. He puts two fingers in, and I moan, clinging to him.
“You’re so wet…so hot…”
“So ready,” I complete, panting.
He climbs on top of me and pins me to the mattress with a hot kiss. I open my legs wider, groaning with impatient need, and pull him toward me. His cock enters slowly, and I hold my breath as he penetrates me, hard and long, filling every inch of space inside me.
“God, you’re tight,” he says, delighted, and we both get lost, delirious, staring into each other’s eyes as we merge.
He goes so deep, I feel his crotch pressing my clit, and as he moves slightly in and out, thrusting into me, I see stars on my lowered lids. I’m made of passion and desire, all of it burning my insides, fed by every new touch, kiss, and caress.
“Dio santo,” he murmurs, reveling in our fusion. Hearing his whispers in Italian makes me even hungrier for him.
“Speak Italian to me,” I ask. “Here, in my ear…” I pull his face closer.
“Sei estremamente seducente…non posso più trattenermi…”
Oh… I love it. This is my biggest fetish, and I’m only realizing it now.
I kiss his lips, rub his beard, grip his hair, and sigh at every hard thrust.
“Sono molto, moltissimo innamorato di te,” he whispers, keeping a firm gaze on mine, reading my soul, giving me a little bit of his. I don’t know what the words mean, but I suspect it’s a love declaration, and God, it’s wonderful …
I draw him closer, moving deeper, faster, until we’re both so consumed by the flames we produce, we get swept into a bonfire of pleasure.
Moans get louder, grips get harder, kisses get more aggressive, and when his tongue plays with mine at the same time as he quickens the pace and pinches one of my nipples, I scream with pleasure, knowing I won’t last much longer.
My body is building to the climax, shaking, throbbing…
“It’s now, Lorenzo… Oh, I need you.”
“Anch’io ho bisogno di te, Daisy…”
He’s also on the edge, and my walls tightening around his cock triggers an orgasm for him.
I let go first, my scream echoing through the walls, uncontrolled, while my body gets rid of all the built-up tension. This is a climax coming from deep within, from Lorenzo’s presence inside my body, and it’s stronger than the one I had in the Palazzo.
I hadn’t thought that would be possible, but here I am, lost in a vacuum of rapture and relief.
I’m shaking, feeling every part of me to its maximum, experiencing the joy of another human feeling the same thing I’m feeling because of me.
He spasms inside my body as he moans—reaching a climax as intense as mine.
It heightens my own pleasure, which lasts even longer than his.
He knows I’m still feeling everything amplified, so he lies next to me and touches my breasts and my clit while kissing me. I hold on to him, shaking, throbbing, building up again because God, he’s amazing . He wants me to keep going. He knows I just need the right stimulation.
“I’m so close again,” I murmur, holding his face near mine. He stares at me, pleased to give me more pleasure, and his magical fingers work wonders on all my sensitive parts.
And then, I can’t resist. I burn, tremble, twitch, and come one more time.
“You’re so sexy, Daisy… Mamma mia …”
When the peak of my orgasm—the second in a row!—passes and I can control my actions again, I say, “Wow.” Just wow.
I lie flat on the mattress, recovering. My legs are jelly, shaky. I’m sore and exhausted. But I’m in a state of bliss. It’s like sparkles of magical powder are dancing inside me. It’s the first time I have had an orgasm from penetration. My previous boyfriends rarely ever focused on me.
I’ve also never been in love with someone the way I’m in love with Lorenzo. I caress his beard, feeling an abrupt need to say the words. I’ve always believed that being in love and loving someone were two different things. But lying here with Lorenzo, I’m convinced there is no difference at all.