When Heroes Fall (Anti-Heroes in Love 1)

“Sei bellissima,” I murmured as I touched my tongue to that fluttering pulse point.

It was a habit I’d built around her, this need to feel her heart beat, to feel the woman who thought she was made of ice pulse with fire.

A little shiver worked between her shoulder blades, but her fingers didn’t miss their cue.

“Do you play for me, lottatrice? Because this sounds like the sweetest song of surrender,” I continued low against her ear, my teeth scraping down the side of her throat.

The soft hiccup of breath through her parted lips. They were free of red lipstick, a natural color like ripe plum I wanted to suck into my mouth.

Seducing Elena was mesmeric. I got tangled up in the same mechanisms I used to soothe her, transfixed by her subtle, storied responses to even the slightest touch, the most innocent of phrases.

There was such longing in her, a deep well of it that until now, until me, had gone untapped.

It was drugging to know I had access to all that dormant sensuality.

My fingers moved down both sides of her neck over the long jutting bones of her collar to the expanse of skin on her chest. She shivered against me, pulling music from the piano as I pulled pleasure from her, both of us in tandem set by some invisible metronome.

Tiny straps held the lace edged silk nightgown in place on her shoulders.

I broke one beneath my forefinger and thumb.

Snap.

Barely a whisper in the music.

The fabric slid down the slope of her breast into her lap, revealing a peaked nipple adorning the soft swell.

Snap.

The other gave way, baring her chest entirely.

Still, she played.

“Bene, Elena, suona mentre io suono te,” I told her.

Good, Elena, you play while I play you.

My hands traced the underside of her breasts, testing the swell before I palmed them in my big hands. Those ruddy nipples caught between my knuckles, and gently, I pinched them.

Then, when she gasped, missing a note, I did it again.

Not so gently.

Air sucked between her teeth.

I dragged my nose behind her ear, inhaling the heady, feminine scent of her. Just that made my cock kick hard in protest within the confines of my trousers.

I’d never been so affected by a woman.

Because Elena wasn’t just gorgeous. Every single aspect of her fascinated me. I felt like an explorer discovering new lands as I rolled her nipples in my fingers and scratched my short nails lightly over the twin swells of her breasts. Every sensation I eked out of her was a fucking wonder.

“I’m going to fuck you like this,” I promised her darkly, my excitement surpassing the tempo of her song, ratcheting too high to continue like this.

I could still feel the impossibly snug squeeze of her walls around me as I wedged myself inside her. The way she’d shouted as she came, a coarse hallelujah of shock and awe. The way she’d rippled around me, clutched me to her as if any space between our bodies was unbearable.

I was wholly consumed by the need to be inside her again.

Impatient now, I left her swollen breasts, one hand arrowing up to her neck so I could hold that slender column in my palm, her femininity against my strength oddly compelling. The other slid, fingers and palms wide and claiming, over her quivering belly, under the pooled silk to the apex of her thighs.

She wasn’t wearing anything beneath the nightgown.

“You wanted me to find you like this,” I murmured against her neck, teeth plucking at her skin sharply so she hissed. “You played like the piper to beckon me here. Were you hoping I would touch you like this? Did you fantasize about this moment?”

The song shifted from one to the next, this composition warm and languid, honey spilling from the ivories.

“Because, Elena,” I continued as my hand cupped her entire wet mound. “Nemmeno immagini cosa ho intenzione di farti.”

You cannot even imagine what I am going to do to you.

I hunched over her slightly until the angle was right and curled two of my thick fingers inside her hot cunt. Her head fell back against my shoulder, eyes fluttering closed as I began to rub them against her front wall, the heel of my hand pressing firmly into the swollen bud of her clit.

“I’m going to make you come like this on my hand, and you are going to play for me all the way through your climax,” I ordered. “Because I want to watch you fail. I want to see you lose control just for me.”

She shivered, her nipples hard enough to cut glass, her hips rolling gently against my ministrations.

Still, she played, the notes sluggish, the song fading as if we’d walked away into another room.

It only made me play her harder. I plucked at those achy nipples until they throbbed while my other hand owned her pussy, pressing and stretching the tight walls to accommodate a third finger. I wanted her stuffed full of me. Following the impulse, I brought my free hand to her mouth and offered her my fingers to suck.