The Truth About De Campo(32)

He kissed his way from the inside of her knees to the hot, pulsing core of her, taking her dress with him as he went. When she thought she might actually go mad for his touch, he worked his hands under her hips and lifted her to him. She jammed her hands into the keys on either side of her, the jarring sound of two opposite notes filling the air. It was raw and it was outrageous, but when he bent and put his mouth to her, she had never felt more perfectly connected to a person in her entire life. Like she was made for him to touch her like this.

Leisurely, exquisitely, he savored her, traced every nerve ending in a practiced seduction that drove her slowly, inexorably mad.

Her body tightened, her eyes flew wide. It had been impossible for her to orgasm with Julian. To perform on command. She had no idea what it felt like to experience it. But right now she felt as if her whole body was about to take flight. To soar into a place she’d never been before.

He flicked his tongue over the hard nub of her, took her there, then yanked her back. Again and again. She threw her head to the side. “God, please, I need—”

“Not yet,” he rasped against her skin. “You can take more.”

No, she couldn’t. Not anymore. Then he slid a finger inside her and took her higher. Stroked her until he reached a spot that sent white-hot pleasure ratcheting through her. Oh, my God. She jammed her palms into the keys. Sent another crazy symphony of sound bouncing off the walls. She was burning alive....

“Now,” he ordered. “Now, Quinn.”

He played the throbbing center of her with his tongue, expertly, urgently, his finger curving up inside her until the blinding heat made the blood roar in her ears. Then he took her over the edge, her scream of pleasure as he brought her to shuddering completion reverberated throughout the room.

On and on the pleasure coursed through her as he kept his mouth on her, drew out her orgasm, made her take it until her shaking body could handle no more and she pleaded for him to stop.

She was half-delirious when he picked her up and started toward the bedroom.

“Not there—”

He stared down at her. “What in Dio’s name is wrong with a bedroom?”

She buried her face in his chest. “I just can’t.”

“What did he do to you, Quinn?” His voice was a low growl.

She shook her head and burrowed closer. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

He carried her to the silk embroidered sofa with the incomparable view of the Pitons and sat with her cradled against him. Lifted her chin with his fingers. “I knew it would be like that.”

Her face burned. She had screamed, literally screamed for him.

His gaze was direct, steady. “You weren’t like that with him.”

“No.”

She was acutely aware of his arousal, hard and unfulfilled beneath her. But her absolute inability to enjoy the sexual act in the past froze her in a purgatory of indecision. She wanted to give him as much pleasure as he’d given her. Wipe away the demons still blazing in his eyes.

But there were other ways to do it. And he made her feel beautiful and empowered enough to try. She sat up in his lap, framed his face with her hands and kissed him, the taste of herself on him so erotic it made her toes curl. His instant, heated response made her blood surge in her veins. “I’m not an expert at this,” she whispered against his mouth. “So you need to tell me how I’m doing.”

“Tell me,” Matteo returned, his lips clinging to hers, “exactly what is it you’re doing?”

She pressed her mouth to his hot, hard flesh as she worked her way down. “This.”

Quinn took her time exploring him, learning him. It was so different to want to touch. To want to make him utter those soft sounds that told her she was doing it just right. To know she was doing it right. She sat back in his arms and brought her lips to his perfectly cut abs. Traced the dips and curves of his salty skin as she worshipped at the altar that was Matteo. When she reached the taut muscles of his abdomen, he tensed so completely she wondered if he was still breathing.

“You okay?”

His tortured “eccellente” made her smile.

“You want more?”

“You have no idea.”

She slid the smooth leather free of his belt loop and undid it. Made swift work of his trouser button and zipper. He lifted his hips, helped her as she dragged his pants down over his long legs. Then there was nothing but a very virile, very aroused Matteo in black boxers staring her in the face. And her very, very dry mouth.

He was big. Bigger than Julian had been. The most perfectly put-together male she had ever seen. She wanted to touch him so badly her self-consciousness vaporized on a wave of lust.