Bound by the Italian's Contract(42)

                This was a onetime shot. It was nothing beyond the duration of their contract.

                His lips adored her closed eyelids, teased the curve of her ears and cooled cheeks, still charmingly rosy, before capturing her sweet lips in a long, drugging kiss that left his head spinning. His hunger for her consumed him, but he took care lowering her to the carpeted floor and following her down, lounging beside her when his body demanded he plunge into her hot depths and find his satiation now.

                His palm took a meandering route up her torso to full creamy breasts bearing hard nipples with dark rose areolae that puckered from the change of temperature from hot shower to marginally cooler chamber. He lowered his head to nuzzle and kiss and adore the soft flesh under both breasts in turn, lifting them closer with cupped palms to the torment of his tongue and mouth.

                Her lithe body twisted and arched; the soft sounds she was making were invitations to take her right now.

                And he would, laying a wet trail of kisses down her tight torso and flat belly, his tongue circling her navel once, twice, before settling down at the juncture of her thighs. A skim of his fingers over her bare folds told him she was still wet and ready. And his!

                “Luciano!”

                “Bella, amore mio.”

                He dipped his head to taste her lightly, then treated her to a deep, sensual kiss. Her back arched off the floor, fingernails digging into his shoulders, a high keen coming from her softly parted lips. A guttural moan of satisfaction escaped him as he kissed her, stroked her, probed her depths to the limits, his own body tight and throbbing with the need to release.

                Again he was struck by the rightness of being with her. Had he ever felt this intense before? Had it ever felt this perfect?

                And once again his mind was blank of everything except the woman in his arms. He needed her. Needed to get his fill of her so he would be free of her memory.

                He slid his palms under her soft bottom and held her to him, loving her deeply, her fingers grasping his shoulders, his hair, only fueling his rising passion to a crashing crescendo. She arched again, her body trembling with spasm after spasm. Her climax peaked not one second too late before his own need threatened to explode.

                In one smooth push, he entered her, sliding up over her body, satisfied as her legs parted wide to welcome him home. And that was just what it felt like as he thrust into her again and again, struggling to hold back his release until she shattered into another climax. He held her tight and let go, his body violently jerking as he reached for his own summit.

                Drained, sated, he collapsed on her, his head resting on her shoulder, numb with pleasure. A sense of completeness pulsed around them.

                This was right. Perfect.

                No! She was right. Perfect. He’d needed this. Needed her at this moment.

                That was all. He could still walk away from her at any time without regrets.

                * * *

                Caprice ran her palms up his damp back, her fingers skimming the hard muscles that were now lax and felt boneless herself. Complete. She hadn’t expected this afterglow to hum through her softly, lulling her more deeply into relaxation like she’d never known before.

                “That was amazing,” she whispered against his shoulder.

                He shifted enough to look down on her, hand gliding down her side, igniting that slow burn of desire all over again. “You are amazing.”