When She Fell for the Billionaire(23)

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” she groaned.

“Then keep your eyes on me, cara.”

She opened her heavy lids. He was watching her face avidly. “You’re so responsive. I can’t wait to be inside you.”

“You don’t have to wait!.” She was surprised at the plaintive note in her voice. “I want you now.”

“I want you to come first” His fingers began moving more rapidly, thrusting, flicking, circling inside her. “Put your feet up on the couch.” He bent closer, pushing down the strap of her dress to bare her breast. He cursed in Italian then swooped down to catch her nipple between his teeth.

Sabrina bucked at the jolt of lightning the sharp tug on her nipple caused. She clutched at his hair as he began sucking to the rhythm of his fingers between her legs.

Oh God! Oh God! She was so close.

“Let go, strega. I’ll catch you."

Luca’s mouth claimed hers for an open-mouthed kiss just as the first tremors of her orgasm started. She felt it peaking and peaking until she spasmed with the most intense sensation. Her hips bucked off the couch, her shoes dug onto the mattress for purchase, and her fingers stiffened like talons and dug into Luca’s scalp. She felt him wince.

When the aftershocks subsided, she drew her hands back and released him. Her chest was rising and falling in choppy cadence. “Shit,” she said reverently. He was nuzzling the side of her throat, one hand stroking her thigh, gentling her when he stilled at her pronouncement. He raised his head from her neck and slanted her a smug glance that quickly turned perplexed.

“What is it?” she asked in alarm. She felt his thumb swiping across one cheek. He showed it to her. It was moist. Sabrina realized it was wet with her tears. Her face caught fire at her embarrassing display. She ducked her head and tried to avoid his gaze, but he caught her chin and forced her to look at him. He remained silent as Sabrina endured his scrutiny with a stoicism she was far from feeling. His deep blue eyes would not allow her to retreat.

“I never cry.” She hastily dried her cheeks with the palms of her hands. She learned long ago that it was a useless endeavor. Crying never changed anything, so why waste tears? “It’s probably just the eye make-up. It’s new.”

“Va bene, strega,” he crooned soothingly. “It’s okay.”

Why was Luca looking at her like that? His eyes had gone oddly soft, almost tender. She was tempted to believe everything in her world would be all right just as he said and that he would make it okay, but that was a dangerous way of thinking. They barely knew each other. She was just using him. “I think I’m allergic to it,” she floundered, then with more conviction added, “Yes. That must be it.”

He didn’t press the matter, mercifully.

A spot of red diverted her. She touched his lower lip with a finger. “You’re bleeding!”

He caught her hand and saw the evidence of a dab of red on her index finger.

“You bit me when you came.” He didn’t sound mad. In fact, he sounded strangely pleased.

“I’m sorry.” She was aghast. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Sshh.” This time it was he who laid a finger to her lips. “Your pleasure was worth the pain.” She could smell herself on him, and it equally embarrassed and excited her.

“Now you’re ready for me,” he growled, levering himself up with a push of his hand off the couch. He proceeded to divest himself of his shirt, tugging impatiently at the buttons. A lock of dark wavy hair fell across his brow. “Keep your feet on the couch and your legs spread wide.” He fished his wallet from his pocket and pulled something out. It was a foil packet. He unbuckled his woven leather belt, unzipped his pants, and let it drop to the floor where he kicked it out of the way.

Sabrina’s eyes roamed hungrily over his form, enjoying the private strip show. He was tall and lean with just the right amount of definition on his muscles that she appreciated. Her gaze skittered past his broad chest covered with a sprinkling of dark hair, down to his underwear bulging with his erection, and lower to his feet which were still covered in socks. Socks in a tartan kilt pattern in navy blue and hunter green.

She chuckled weakly. “You have a thing about printed socks.”

“A thing?” He followed her gaze to his feet. “I’m insulted. I’m half-naked and all you can focus on are my socks,” he said in mock indignation, his arms akimbo as if he were Superman.

“I like this better than the polka dots you were wearing last night.” Uh oh. Her brain had turned to mush. That was the only explanation she could think off with her slip up. She realized it when Luca cocked his head and shot her a curious glance.