The Italian's Christmas Child

‘Would you have phoned if you’d had my number?’ she prompted in a reckless rush.

‘I don’t know,’ Vito responded quietly. ‘Certainly I would’ve been tempted, but on another level I distrust anything that tempts me.’

His honesty cut through her. Even if he had found the note, he wouldn’t have phoned her, she decided painfully. He would have written off their night of passion as a once-in-a-lifetime experience and left it behind. That hurt, but there was nothing she could do about it. She wanted to know who else had since shared his bed but it wasn’t a question to be asked on their wedding night even though her heart cried out for reassurance. It would be an unfair question when he had not owed her loyalty. Of course there had been other women in the months they had been apart. That was yet another pain she had to bear.

‘I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you,’ Vito told her thickly.

He flung a handful of condoms down by the bed and stripped naked without inhibition while she watched.

Pink washed Holly’s face because he was fully aroused and ready.

‘I couldn’t get enough of you that night and that unnerved me,’ he framed abruptly. ‘You were a very unexpected discovery.’

He reached for her again, deftly skimming off her bra and panties, twisting his hips away when she tried to touch him. ‘No… If you touch me, you’ll wreck me. I’m on a hair trigger after months of abstinence,’ he growled, lean brown hands roving over the full curves of her breasts, lingering over her pink pointed nipples to tug and tease until little sounds she couldn’t silence broke from between her lips.

Vito flung back the sheet and settled her beneath him to pay serious attention to her swollen mouth and the glorious swell of her breasts.

‘Months of abstinence?’ Holly encouraged helplessly, her breath tripping in her throat as he sucked on a protruding bud while long, skilled fingers stroked her thigh.

‘I’m not an easy lay,’ he told her. ‘I’m very, very fussy.’

‘Nothing wrong with that,’ Holly framed in ragged reassurance, all the feeling in her body seemingly centred between her thighs where she was scarily desperate for him to touch her.

And then he did and she gasped and her eyes closed and the fire at the heart of her grew hotter still, hips shifting up and from side to side, the drumbeat of need awakened and throbbing and thrumming through every skin cell. Vito shifted down the bed and parted her thighs. He knew exactly what he was doing. She had discovered that the night Angelo was conceived.

He teased her with the tip of his tongue, slow and then quicker until she could no longer stay silent and whimpers and gasps were wrenched from her. A long sure finger stroked through her wet folds and she quivered, every nerve ending jumping to readiness as the excitement crept higher.

At the height of her climax she cried out his name, lost in the convulsive spasms of erotic pleasure. She was so lost in that pleasure that she struggled to remember what day it was and even where she was. Her lashes flickered when she heard him tear open a condom. As he returned to her she wrapped both arms round him possessively, her body temporarily sated.

He pushed her back and drove into her with a guttural groan of satisfaction. ‘Like wet satin,’ he bit out appreciatively.

Hunger sizzled through her as his bold shaft stretched her and sank deep. Suddenly she was sensually awake again, her body primed as he angled his lean hips to ensure that she received the maximum enjoyment. His hunger for her was unhidden, his strokes were hard and fast, tormentingly strong. The ache low in her body pinged and climbed in intensity. She wanted, oh, how she wanted, craved, needed and longed for that maddening pulse of yearning to be answered, overwhelmed. And then her spine was arching and her body jerking and the waves of hot, drenching pleasure were like a shooting star flaming through her and setting her on fire with the wondrous release from her own body.

‘Sexiest, most amazing woman ever…and mine,’ Vito husked in her ear, his weight heavy on her as he rolled over and pulled her down on top of him. ‘That’s the most important fact. You’re mine, gioia mia.’

‘Are you mine too?’ Holly whispered dizzily.

‘Sì…’

‘Is sex always this good?’

‘Not even half the time. We have our own unique variety of fireworks.’

Holly rested her cheek on a damp bronzed shoulder, her body replete. He smelled so good she drank him in like a drug. She liked being his. She liked that possessive note she heard edging his dark drawl because it made her feel less like Angelo’s mother and more like Vito’s wife, valued, needed and wanted on her own account. Long fingers traced the path of her spine as he shifted position.

‘I have an impossibly fast recovery time with you,’ Vito husked, sliding her back onto the sheet on her front, lingering on the soft full curves of her behind.

He reached for another condom. Holly didn’t even lift her head. She was still in that place somewhere between total satiation and awareness, shifting obediently as he eased a pillow below her hips, raising her, rearranging her to his satisfaction. And then she felt him rigid and full at her entrance where she was now tender and swollen. He drove in hard and she came suddenly fully awake, eyes wide, throat catching on a breath, heart hotwired back into pounding. He buried himself deep and it felt so good she moaned.

‘I like the little sounds you make.’ He ground into her with power and energy and a spontaneous combustion of heat surged at the apex of her body.

Excitement crowned with her every cry and snatched breath. She couldn’t breathe against the onslaught of raw, surging excitement. With every savage thrust he owned her in a way she had never thought to be owned and she gave herself up to the rise of the hot, pulsing pleasure. The excitement crested with white-hot energy and the sweet waves of deep, quivering pleasure consumed her. Winded, she slumped back down into the pillows.

‘Shower time,’ Vito told her, lifting her out of bed. ‘You’re not allowed to go to sleep yet.’

‘You and your son have a lot in common.’

‘We’re both very attached to you?’ Vito urged her into the shower.