In the Italian's Sights

There had been one brief splinter of pain but now her muscles welcomed his thickness, and in answer she arched for deeper penetration, wanting all of him.

His body responded immediately and he moved harder and faster, stretching and filling her until he possessed her to the hilt in a driving rhythm that took them both into ecstasy and then over the edge, to drown in wave after wave of a pleasure so intense it was almost painful.

She was still trembling and helplessly drugged with pleasure minutes later, when he turned on his side, pulling her against him and kissing her hard. ‘You are perfection,’ he murmured lazily, kissing her eyelids, her nose, her brow, before returning to her mouth, swollen from passion. ‘Utter perfection. How have I lived this long without you? I love you with all my heart, mia piccola. You know this?’

Yes, she knew it. She smiled a smile that made him catch his breath with its sensuality.

‘Prove it,’ she whispered softly, reaching up to take his lips in a passionate kiss that brought his body to instant life.

‘Gladly,’ he whispered back, a touch of laughter in his voice, but then the smouldering fire ignited into redhot flames and there was only the language of love. The best language of all.