‘I’ve never made love before.’
Did she think he was that stupid?
China-blue eyes stared up at him. That full mouth was quivering with nerves, waiting to be kissed some more, and he was tempted to silence her with just that. What the hell was she playing at? He’d seen her pills in the bathroom, for God’s sake, and she’d told him that she’d just broken up with her boyfriend of six months—now she was telling him she was a virgin?
Please!
A very scathing remark was on the tip of his tongue—whatever game she was playing with him was about to be abruptly concluded. The muscles in his arms tensed as he prepared to push her away—only he didn’t.
If she wanted to play virgin, if she wanted to pretend that he was her first, then who was he to stop her? In fact, somehow it made it easier to just block out the whys and hows—easier to lower his mouth to hers, to play whatever game it was that she was playing and lose himself.
Pulling her back towards him, Lazzaro kissed the shell of her ear as he spoke. ‘Then we’d better take things slowly!’
So slowly. The weight of his mouth on hers was less urgent now, more a slow, languorous kiss, as intimate as it was passionate, exciting her even while simultaneously calming her, telling Caitlyn there was no hurry, no rush on this journey. So she took the time he allowed to explore him—inhaling him, inhaling the undertones of his cologne that couldn’t mask the masculine smell of want, feeling the scratch of his face against her skin, coarse, bruising, delicious, and then, because she knew where it was going, because there was nothing to stop her now, allowing herself to concentrate on the blissful feel of his tongue against hers. It toyed with hers, stroking not just where flesh met flesh, but somewhere deeper inside, stirring her slowly, and the weighty band of arousal around her groin danced to the puppet strings he pulled with his mouth.
Lazzaro’s hands slipped inside her gown, emitting a groan in their entwined mouths as he encountered the silken smooth, heavily oiled weight of her breasts. He held them in the palms of his hands like ripe fruit, then rolled her nipples between his fingers. Her robe fell in a puddle as he lowered her on the bed, his mouth working its way steadily downwards, and Caitlyn felt her heart still in her throat with nervousness, then trip back into life as she momentarily relaxed, remembering that she had her panties on.
Lazzaro was in no hurry to remove them, but he was kissing her stomach as thoroughly as he’d kissed her mouth, and as his tongue slid down his fingers toyed with her panties, then stopped. She almost sobbed at what was to come. The tease of his tongue through the fabric, the scratch of his jaw high between her legs, the nibble of teeth on lace had Caitlyn squirming with want in his skilful hands as his tongue worked on. But she couldn’t relax, couldn’t let go and enjoy, because if he didn’t stop soon…She could feel her breath catching in her throat, panic building inside. Because if he didn’t relent, didn’t give her just a second to gather herself…
Her hands were pushing his shoulders, only Lazzaro wasn’t letting her go. His shoulders were immovable against the pressure of her hands. His hands were stronger as he cupped her bottom and pressed her engorged flesh harder against his mouth. His tongue was inside her panties now, his lips pressed against her, tasting her, drinking her, frenzying her—and her own imagination had been a woeful substitute for reality. The glimpses of satisfaction she had soothed herself with were nothing, nothing compared to this. On and ever on he pushed her, and her throat was constricting, stifling her pleas, a sob was catching in her throat.
‘Don’t…’He whispered the command, and for a second he paused, for a second he looked up…
Fleetingly she asked the question in her jumbled mind—don’t what?—but as he dived back down, as his mouth pushed aside her soaking knickers, as his tongue hit her delicious tender spot, she gave herself up to the pleasure of her flesh, her thighs tightening, her bottom arching to his hungry mouth. Her hands were not on his shoulders now, but knotting into his hair. Her intimate lips were kissing him back with a hungry beat that he savoured, in an orgasm that went on for ever, made her almost want to beg for it to stop, and when it was over—when all she wanted to do was curl up her legs and recover—he leant back, smiling down at her as she slowly came to.