The Woman in the Back Room (Costa Family)

Like he couldn't get enough of the feel of me.

Like he wanted to learn every inch of me.

My thighs slid impatiently against the sides of his body, my hips writhing.

On a groan, Santi's lips left my breast, his face sliding between, his tongue tracing a delicious line under each breast, then down the center of my stomach until he met the waistband of my leggings.

With a breath that shook through him, he lifted up, his gaze sliding to mine again as he gently ease my pants and panties over my hips, then down my thighs.

Tossing them to the side, he reached for my knees, fingers just sinking in there for a second.

His breath was hard and quick, his need as demanding as my own.

His hands started to pull my thighs apart, spreading them wide against the counter.

A growl moved through him as his gaze slipped from my face to between my thighs.

Santi's hand moved up, his fingers tracing up my slick cleft, finding my clit, then circling it. His gaze shot up as a groan escaped me. His gaze on mine, his finger circled my clit again, then again, enjoying watching himself drive me up.

Slowly.

So torturously slow.

On a frustrated whimper, I grabbed his hand, turning it, sliding it down until two of his fingers pressed against the entrance to my body.

His fingers tapped there for a long moment, making my muscles tense and my fingernails dig into his wrist with the need to feel him inside me.

Then, when I felt like I couldn't take another moment, his fingers thrust inside me, getting a choked moan out of me. The sound was drowned out by the rumbling approval that moved through Santi's chest as my walls tightened around his fingers, as he imagined himself buried inside.

My hips rocked impatiently until his fingers started to thrust. Lazily at first, then faster, harder, twisting, curling, then rubbing over my top wall as he dropped down, sucking my clit into his mouth as he continued to finger me, getting faster and faster, driving me higher and higher.

"Santi," I cried, my hands buried in his hair as he licked and sucked and thrust me toward the edge. He made a humming sound of approval at my cries, the vibration sending me flying over that edge, free falling, then crashing hard, a choked moan moving through me as my body jerked, as my hand left his hair to slap down hard on the counter as the waves kept crashing and crashing.

I'd barely recovered when my eyes opened again, seeing Santi leaning over me, his hand fisted on the counter, his entire body tight, practically vibrating with his own need for release.

Reaching out, I grabbed his wrist and shoulder, easing myself upright, sealing my lips to his again.

His arms went around me, pulling me close even as I inched forward until I pushed off the counter.

As soon as my feet were on the ground, I turned us, pushing him back against the island as my hand moved between us. My fingers traced the hard length of him straining against the thin material of his pajama pants. My lips ripped from his, wanting to watch his reaction to my touch.

Impatient, his hand grabbed my wrist, guiding my hand up and then inside his pants.

A shudder coursed through him as my hand closed around his cock without a barrier. A hiss escaped him as my thumb moved across the head before I stroked him to the hilt with one hand while pulling down his pants with the other.

Lowering myself down, I glanced up at him as I guided his cock toward my mouth, my lips curving around his head before my tongue slid over him.

"Fuck," Santi hissed, his hand grabbing the back of my head as I slowly took more of him into my mouth. All of him. My gaze on his the whole time.

His eyes were intense as he watched me, making a flip-flopping sensation kick around in my stomach before I started to work him, driving him up. His hand crushed into my skull as the other gripped the edge of the counter, his hips thrusting restlessly into my mouth.

I could have worked him forever.

But his fingers curled into my hair, dragging me back onto my feet, his lips crashing into mine. Hard, hungry, needy.

And, God, I needed him too.

It was a clawing ache between my thighs that was impossible to ignore, impossible to satisfy until I felt him buried inside me.

Kissing him back, my hand went to the side, groping across the counter to try to find my clutch, fumbling with the clasp with clumsy fingers before finding the condom foil.

Reaching for his hand, I pressed it into his palm as my lips ripped from his, moving down his jaw, then the side of his neck instead, occupying myself while he slid on the condom before reaching for me again, pulling me backward to look down at me as he lifted me back up onto the counter.