Taken by the Highest Bidder

“I should have known,” he protested. “You should have told me.”

“Told you what? That I’m a virgin?”

“But you’ve been married.”

“Yes, twice. Well, three times in a way.” She tried to make a joke of it so they could move on. “Says a lot for my sex appeal, doesn’t it?” But before he could answer, she kissed him again, kissed suggestively, tracing his lip with her tongue until she felt the spark between them again, the sharp electric heat that was both hot and maddening.

His body throbbing in hers, he began to move, slowly, giving her time to adjust to him and little by little she could take him even deeper and she did. He seemed to want as much of her as he could, as much of her as she’d give.

Sighing, she wrapped her legs around him, felt him bury deeper, felt the last lingering discomfort give way to pleasure and interest.

As he stroked her with his body, Sam pressed her face to his chest, she wrapped her legs around his hips and breathed him in. She loved the feel of his skin on hers, the warmth, the pressure, the sensation. It was all wonderful, she thought, his scent, the hard planes of his muscles, his strength.

She loved the way he drove his body into hers, and as he moved in her, with her, she discovered how the pleasure just grew. She’d never been this close to anyone, couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else but with Cristiano it felt right.

Being in his arms, with his body joined with hers, she felt safe, cherished. Loved.

And the feeling of love intensified, tightening, strengthening until it exploded, shaping and reshaping into something bigger and brighter than she’d ever felt.

It was an orgasm, she knew that much, but it wasn’t what she’d thought it would feel like. She’d always thought an orgasm would feel well, physical. Sexual. But this pleasure, this release, was gorgeous and emotional, sensual and spiritual. She’d never felt so close to anyone as she did to Cristiano just then, and as she shuddered in his arms, her body rippling around his, she was part earth, part universe, a comet streaking across the sky before dropping like stardust into the sea.

She was still sensitive, still shuddering at the intense pleasure when Cristiano groaned and came deep inside of her.

Cristiano held her close against him and he was so quiet she thought he must have fallen asleep but when she stirred to go to the bathroom, Cristiano took her hand in his and brought it to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

She turned on the bed, looked down at him, moonlight playing across the bed. “You didn’t hurt me. You made me feel wonderful.”

“I’d never hurt you, Sam. You’re to be cherished.”

She leaned over and kissed him. “I’m glad you were my first lover. I hope you’re my last. I can’t imagine being with anyone else now.”

He made a rough sound, primitive and raw, and dragged her closer to his side. “Good,” he grunted. “I shouldn’t like to think of my wife fantasizing about other men.”

Early that morning they made love again, Cristiano taking time to teach her, encourage her, compliment her. “There are no rules between a man and woman in bed. If you trust one another, respect one another, everything’s good, everything’s right. It’s a matter of being comfortable and communicating.”

“You know a lot about sex,” she said, trying not to be jealous of the history he had before her but not quite succeeding.

He smiled and drew her on top of him, introducing her to yet another position. “What can I say? I’m Italian. We enjoy women. But now you’re my wife.”

Later they ordered breakfast in bed and napped after their late breakfast and then Cristiano carried her into the shower where he introduced her to a few more new things.

Later, taking him in her hand, she relished soaping him up and down, using the excuse of showering to get to know his body better.

But when her soapy hand brushed one of his thighs he stiffened, caught her hand, moved it away.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked.

“No.” He adjusted the shower nozzle so the water didn’t splash her face or in her eyes.

“Do they ever hurt? The burns?”