Touch(40)

“Fuck. That’s…that’s not what I want. I don’t want you gritting your teeth so I can touch you. I want you to want it.”



“I’m sorry. I can’t promise that.” She smiled and put her hand on his chest. He was wearing a black button-down shirt instead of a t-shirt. He looked nice. The top buttons were undone, and she hooked her fingers into the open space, scratching lightly. The hair on his chest tickled her fingers, in a good way. “But I can touch you. I like touching you.”



The light in his eyes changed. The green in them was like the green of the lamb’s ears plants in Dottie’s garden. “I like that, too. I like watching you fuck me. I really do. But I’m gonna hold out hope that you’ll want me to touch you someday.”



Manny didn’t share that hope, and she wondered if it mattered more than Luca seemed to realize, but she could no longer sustain this conversation. Her brain was worn out. “You want to fuck now?”



“I do.” His grin was wide, and his eyes were intense, and, reading desire in the way he stared at her, Manny relaxed at last.



She asked with a smirk, “Is your eel alive?”



He laughed and gestured at his crotch. “Grab hold and see for yourself.”



She did, and it most certainly was.



She stood up and smiled down at him, toeing off her sneakers and grabbing the bottom of her t-shirt.



“Leave the stockings on,” he murmured as she pulled her shirt over her head. When she was clear of the fabric, she saw him watching, his eyes half-lidded.



“Okay.” As she dropped her skirt and underwear, he dug a condom out of his jeans and then stripped without bothering to get up from the sofa.



As before, she knelt between his legs, and he dropped the condom packet to the sofa cushion and spread his arms across the backrest, gripping a corner in each hand. The position made the muscles in his neck, shoulders, and chest bunch in a way that gave her good tingles in low places. Most of the guys she knew were thin, pasty punks and hipsters, and all of the guys she’d been with before had been of that type. Luca was as big as three of those guys. His body was like something out of an anatomy textbook, with every conceivable muscle in evidence, including the ones on his hips, which were thick enough that she could grab hold of them if she wanted. His skin was olive, and suntanned to boot, and it made his eyes sort of glow.



Especially when he was looking at her like he was now.



His cock was wicked huge. Like somebody-call-Guinness huge. And he’d filled her and stretched her and reached places in her that had never been reached before. But he hadn’t hurt her—quite the contrary. She supposed it was stupid to have been afraid of it. The female body was built for that same place to squeeze out a whole person—not that she’d ever do that.



She felt bad that she couldn’t let him touch her the way he wanted, so she tried to make it up to him in the only way she could think of—to touch him as much as possible, so he could feel her that way. With her hands on his ankles, kneeling before him, she worked her way up his legs, kneading and caressing as she went. His legs were as thick and muscular as everything else. He was a fucking perfect male specimen. In her eyes, at least.



She lingered over his scarred knee, fascinated by the raised ropes of hardened skin. Without thinking much about it, she kissed it, running her studded tongue over the scars. He moaned and dropped his head back. Because he hadn’t flinched, she decided that he liked it, so she kissed her way up the inside of his right thigh, her hand kneading the path her mouth had blazed. Then she repeated the journey on his left leg. By the time she got to the top, the muscles in his legs were rigid with tension, and his chest was rising and falling in a deep, heavy rhythm.



She sucked and licked his balls until they were snug against his body, being careful not to drag her stud too harshly over the tightly wrinkled flesh. Then she licked from the base of his cock to the tip, and he moaned again, this time flexing his hips upward.



There was absolutely no way she could get his whole length in her mouth, but she wanted to give him thorough head. That was normally something she was good at, she thought. Guys seemed to like it. So she wrapped her hands around him and sucked as much of him down as she could, mindful of her teeth—more of a concern than usual, because of his girth.



He made a sound that was a lot like pain, and the sofa creaked oddly. Manny pulled back and looked up to see him sitting with his head dropped back, his arms so tense his muscles had corded, the veins standing out.



That was good. She knew that was good. So she sucked him back down again and got busy with her tongue.