Chapter 17 #2
He places his hands against the wall on either side of my head, caging me in.
Slowly he lowers his head, resting his forehead on mine.
I can feel his breath fanning my face. The moment is heavy with desire; warmth starts to coil in my core.
My palms are sweaty and my breaths stagger.
I look up into his beautiful face and I can’t avoid the pull between us.
His eyes are squeezed shut as if looking at me causes him pain.
“Lorenzo, what’s happening here?”
“You know what’s happening, la mia tentazione. (my temptation) I want you, Elena. I’ve wanted you from the first day I set eyes on you. But I shouldn’t.”
“No, you shouldn’t.” My voice is a whisper.
“It’s wrong.” His voice sounds hoarse, dripping with need.
“So wrong.” But even as I say it, I find myself leaning in to him nuzzling the tip of his nose with my own.
“God help me, Elena. La mia bellezza” (My Beauty)
“Yes.”
My own voice is embarrassingly seductive as I tilt my face to look up into those green pools.
This man will be my downfall. Our breathing escalates, my chest heaving, effectively pushing my breasts out with each inhale.
Lorenzo’s heated gaze sears into my skin and in this moment…
I want him too, I want his lips on mine, I want his body flush against my own.
Feeling bold I place my palm flat against his chest, standing on my toes I whisper in his ear.
“I want you too.”
He squeezes his eyes shut again as if I’ve caused him physical pain when he lets out a strangled -
“FUCK IT!”
Before I know it, his lips crash onto mine pushing me back against the cold brick.
His tongue tracing the seam of my mouth and I greedily open up for him.
Granting him entry. I let out a small moan when his tongue finds mine, the sound surprises me and spurs him on.
Lorenzo shifts slightly, positioning his large muscular leg between my own, grinding into me while deepening the kiss.
With one hand on my waist and the other in my hair, cradling my head and pulling me impossibly closer to him.
Gone is the distant, grumpy conservative man.
This man… this man is a red-hot blooded Italian, burning with desire.
The proof of that desire currently grinding against my abdomen, thick, long and hard.
Of their own accord, my hands curl around his neck, teasing, caressing the base of his head, my fingers tangled in his hair.
God, how I’ve wanted to run my fingers through his hair. The thick dark strands are soft to the touch. Such a contrast to the hard man devouring my mouth with the hunger of a starved animal.
I swear I can feel the heat radiating off of him and seeping into my bones.
We kiss for what seems like hours, limbs and tongues a tangled mess of passion.
Each of us pouring everything we feel into our searing kiss.
Lorenzo’s hand leaves my head to trail down my throat, slowly going lower still to cup my breast. Never once breaking the kiss while he gently strokes his thumb over my nipple, bringing the bud to a stiff peak.
His lips finally leave mine to travel to my cheek, my jaw, my neck.
Nipping and sucking as he goes. All the while his grip on my waist tightens.
I’m going to be bruised there for sure. His other hand palms my breast, squeezing and kneading until his mouth joins his hand and he takes my hard nipple in his mouth through my sweater.
I arch into the wet heat of his mouth. The sensation sending sparks to my core.
Lorenzo’s hands roam south to the waistband of my pants, lingering for a while tracing circles on my bare skin.
The act, so slow, so seductive, sends goosebumps all over my skin, causing me to shiver.
His mouth leaves my breast and finds my lips once more, taking my breath away in another deep, rough kiss while his hand dips into my pants, breaching the barrier of my waistband.
His thumb loops into the lacy fabric underneath, tracing the seam along my inner thigh.
The sensation has me grinding into his palm seeking out the friction I crave.
He abruptly breaks the kiss for a moment. Hunger burning in his eyes. He looks so hot like this. So, fucking sexy with his hair falling over his eyes, dishevelled from my roaming fingers, breathing ragged, chest heaving and skin almost on fire.
The way he’s looking at me has my ovaries doing a stripper dance. God help me, I may just end up a puddle on his office floor.
“Bellissima… La mia Sirena.” (My Beautiful Siren).
I don’t know what he’s saying to me but that exotic Italian accent has me fifty shades of horny and I buck my hips up towards his hands. Pleading with him to give me the release I need.
A sexy almost feline moan escapes my mouth. The sound so foreign, I don’t even recognise it as my own. This seems to spur Lorenzo on and he tugs the lace to the side, running his finger along my centre. The touch is electric. We shouldn’t be doing this. It feels sinful but fuck it feels so good.
“I can feel how wet you are… Bellezza. Fuck! There are so many things I want to do to you.”