Emilia (Part 1)(63)

Like he heard my unspoken plea, he dragged my panties down my legs and pushed a finger inside, filling me. I whimpered, and his lips crashed against mine, swallowing the sound. His tongue swept inside, mimicking the rhythm of his finger. In, out, then one finger became two. My sex clenched like it couldn’t bear the idea of him stopping. It felt good. Too good.

Marcello’s lips slid across my cheek, and he nipped my ear with his teeth. “Has Sal touched you here? Has he done this?”

I considered lying for a second, then I changed my mind. Lies didn’t have a place between us anymore. “Once.”

He pulled his hand away from me, and my body throbbed with a surprising emptiness. “What else did you let him do?”

“Nothing.” Taking in the tic in his lower jaw, I swallowed hard. “It didn’t feel right after I met you. I just couldn’t.”

A shiver of vulnerability trickled through me. Part of me regretted my confession and another part of me was relieved. First with his letters, then with his patience, Marcello wormed his way into my life, and maybe even my heart. Piece by piece, I forgot about my plans for the future, and the moments I spent with Sal felt like a figment of my imagination.

“That’s because since the minute I caught you in the hallway outside your dad’s office, you were mine, and you knew it in here.” He pressed his palm to the center of my chest.

Not giving me the opportunity to refute him, he consumed my words with his lips like he could taste them and his fingers started moving again. Heavy breaths and muted noises filled my room. Every swipe and curl of his finger sent me higher and higher.

I pushed off his jacket and fumbled with a few buttons on his shirt before he took charge and did it himself.

His lips traveled down my neck to the slope of my breast, sucking, nibbling. A groan tumbled from somewhere deep inside of me. In another time or place, my reaction would have embarrassed me, but I lacked the wherewithal to think about it. We were merely two humans cloaked in the shadows, burning up with desire.

I cupped the back of his head, his hair like silk between my fingers, and his stubble like an aphrodisiac against my already tingling skin. I lost track of time, where we were, everything except him and the rollercoaster of sensations rushing through me.

The hiss of his leather belt and the buzz of his zipper followed by the swish of his pants as they swept down his legs echoed through the room. My heart frantic and my mind whirling with the consequences of going any further, I wavered for a second. Something egged me on, though, and I wedged my hand between our bodies, gripping his hard length timidly. He was big. Bigger than I would have imagined if I had thought about it prior to this second.

I rubbed my index finger over the tip in unhurried loops, and I felt him pulse. A hushed growl broke from his lips and he buried his face next to my neck, batting my hand away. Seconds later, the thick, blunt head of his erection was against my entrance.

“Wait,” I mumbled, reservations and fears hitting me square in the chest. It would hurt, but even worse, there would be no going back. “I’m not so sure this is a good idea. I mean how…”

“Shh, little Emilia.” His thumb circled my clit over and over. The corners of my eyes watered and greedy tremors vibrated my sex. My hips arched off the bed, and my hands clawed at the sheets, seeking the infuriatingly elusive orgasm shimmering right outside of my reach.

He cupped my backside, and his hips flexed forward, nudging his tip inside me. “Still want me to wait?”

“No. Please. I want to do this.” The throaty sound of my voice, the conviction in my words, stunned me, but I didn’t have long to ponder it.

Marcello’s teeth grazed my bottom lip, and he raised my hands next to the headboard with one hand, entering me inch by inch, my softness yielding to his rigidity. His ocean blue eyes clouded with pleasure or lust. I didn’t know which. His lowered lashes cast shadows on the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

I tucked my face against the firm muscles of his chest, concentrating on the mini ripples of pleasure instead of the burn. When he was fully seated, he lifted my knees and spread my legs wider. Beat after beat passed without either of us moving.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his words fuzzy like the Sambuca had gone to his head.

Grinning, I whispered into his ear. “Better than okay. What about you? Does it feel good?”

He raised his head, and our gazes locked in a raw, primal dance that made my heart race double time.

“Good doesn’t cover how this feels, little Emilia.”

I hummed in agreement, all my fears slipping away like they never existed in the first place.

In and out, he rocked in a steady rhythm, slowly at first, then picking up speed when I started to move in unison with him. He angled his hips with premeditated precision, and I pawed at his shoulders, so damn greedy for more. For everything.