He moved his knee up until it pressed against my crotch and I moaned into his mouth at the sensation. I had to stop myself from rubbing myself shamelessly against his knee for some release. “Stay like that,” he ordered, then he moved back and only when he knelt on the floor between my legs did it dawn on me what he had in mind.
My eyes darted to the door. “Fabiano, please. What if someone comes in?”
“They won’t.”
“I’m sweaty. You can’t.” I shoved at his head but he didn’t let himself be deterred from what he was doing. He slid my skirt up, then hooked a finger under my panties and shifted them to the side. Cool air hit my wet flesh and my muscles tightened with need. “Oh Leona,” he whispered darkly. “I thought you didn’t like to see me fighting.” He leaned his head against my inner thigh, his eyes darting from my most private area, wet and throbbing for him, to my face. I flushed with embarrassment but didn’t say anything.
“But your pussy seems to enjoy it a lot.”
Why did he have to use that word?
He blew against me and I quavered. I needed him to touch me. Shoving him away was taking a backseat in my mind as I watched him lower his hungry gaze between my legs again.
And then he leaned forward and I held my breath, every muscle in my body taut with tension. His tongue darted out, licking over my heated flesh, sending a torrent of sensations through my lower body. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit down on my lip to stop myself from making a sound. Outside music was still blaring but I didn’t want to risk anything. He took his time, exploring with his tongue. Good Lord.
I gasped and arched off the bench as he kept up his ministrations, mouth and tongue sure of every twitch and turn they did, driving me up toward a point I’d never imagined.
“You are perfect,” he rumbled against me, and the sound of his voice was like a hot shower after hours in the cold.
I curled my fingers around the edge of the bench, clinging to it desperately as my legs began trembling. My breath came in short bursts.
Fabiano closed his mouth over me and began sucking. I whimpered but he pressed on, tongue circling and flicking. I was falling. A different kind of falling than before. I let out a small cry, one hand darting out to grab his blond hair. He hummed his approval as I kept him in place. I needed this. He pulled a few inches back, and I huffed in protest. I was so close. “Don’t stop,” I pleaded, not caring how desperate I sounded. I was so close to the edge. Raw need.
A need so strong it hurt. I wanted to tumble over this cliff, and fall and fall. I needed that fall.
“But what if someone comes in,” he asked in a low voice, his tongue sliding along my inner thigh. He was taunting me now.
“Fabiano, please. I don’t care!”
He chuckled. He held my gaze as he lowered his head so very slowly and when his lips brushed my flesh I almost cried from relief. He flicked his tongue over my clit, eyes possessing me, owning every inch of me, and I gasped as my body exploded with heat. I shook against the bench and if Fabiano’s hands on my hips hadn’t kept me in place I would have tumbled onto the floor in a heap. Black seeped into my vision as the waves of pleasure raced through me.
My limbs felt heavy and sluggish. Gradually the throbbing between my legs started to fade. Fabiano crouched over me, eyes full of possessiveness. I breathed heavily.
“That was perfect,” I got out.
He shook his head. “It’s only the beginning.”
There it was again. That promise sounding like a threat. Where was he taking me? Down a path I’d never chosen for myself, a path farther away from a mundane, bourgeois life I’d imagined for myself. He kissed my throat. “And happy New Year.”
New Year, I’d almost forgotten. Would this finally be a good year?
Fabiano straightened, all flexing muscles and dark hunger as he towered over me. Even the loose fighting boxers couldn’t hide his arousal. I pushed myself into a sitting position, knowing what he wanted, and wanting it too, but unsure if it was wise. We’d been in the changing room for too long already. But I’d stopped being wise a long time ago.
I peered up at him, eyes locked on his. I reached out and pressed my palm against the bulge in his pants. His abs flexed but he didn’t make a sound. Still full of control. I wanted to see him give it up, wanted him to fall like I was. Both body and heart.