The Italian

I slowly lift my leg, and he pushes two thick fingers inside me. My head falls back. Oh, fuck.

“Cazzo, sei un fuoco” Translation: fucking hell, you’re on fire.

His grip on my hair is painful. His tongue in my mouth mirrors his thick fingers, pumping to a slow, erotic dance. The sound of my wet arousal hangs in the air.

His teeth slide down my neck with a sharp hiss.

“So… wet… fucking tight,” he whispers, accentuating the Ts. “I’ve missed you and this beautiful cunt.”

Oh God.

He really begins to work me, and I hold onto his forearm as my mouth hangs open. Our eyes are locked, and I can feel the muscles in his forearm contract. Oh yes, it’s been too long.

I shudder, and he immediately pulls out.

“Don’t stop,” I plead.

“You won’t come here.” He kisses me again, but this time it’s slow and deliberate. Then, as if the last five minutes didn’t happen, he regains composure. He straightens my dress, pulls it down, and drops it back into position. He runs his fingers through his hair, and before I can protest, he’s pulling me out of the room. He drags me back through the club, and my mind is a blur. How is he even functioning right now?

I’m so close to coming that the smoke machine might set me off. My body is contracting as she searches for those fingers. I grit my teeth as I try to focus on where he’s taking me.

“Olivia, please meet my friends.” He presents me with a cool, calm, and collected smile. “This is Matteo, my brother, and Fabien, my best friend.”

I smile as I look between them. I’m flushed and messed up. Can they tell that their friend has just finger fucked me in an office?

“Hi,” I offer.

“Hello.” Matteo smiles as he kisses my cheek.

“Lovely to meet you.” Fabien smiles, too. “Do you live in Milan?”

“Yes, I’m new here.” I glance over to Enrico. With his dark eyes locked on mine, he brings his fingers up to his nose and inhales.

The air leaves my lunges in a rush. What the fuck?

I watch on as he slowly puts his two middle fingers deep into his mouth and sucks them clean. His eyes flicker with arousal at my taste, and he licks his lips as if savoring every last drop.

My stomach flutters. Good God.

I lose the ability to speak. All coherent thought leaves my mind, and my sex begins to throb. Hell, I need him. I need all of him. I don’t give a damn about Mafiosi or tomorrow or anything to do with reality.

I need Rico tonight.

“Do you live here?” I ask Fabien, distracted. I get a vision of Rico naked… in my bed.

Fuck, yes.

His friend keeps talking but I can hardly hear them o

ver the heat of his stare on me. I can’t speak, I can’t do anything. My body is in complete meltdown.

It’s on a mission to fuck.

I glance over to see that the man Natalie was talking to now has his hand on her hip. She’s looks settled for the night. I can’t stand here like this for one moment longer.

It’s now or never.

I crook my finger, and Rico leans in. “Let’s go,” I whisper.