Never Say No to a Caffarelli

‘A bit.’ His mouth found the underside of her breast, his lips moving lightly over the sensitive skin like a maestro with an instrument he has never played before. ‘You are so beautiful.’

The hot press of his naked chest against hers made her body react like a wanton. Her bones melted, her limbs unhinged, her spine loosened. She ran her hands over his taut buttocks, pressing him against her need, wanting to feel the hot, hard probe of his flesh in her aching centre. She went for his buckle and blindly unfastened it as her mouth met his in a fiery kiss. She felt him against her, so erect, so ready for her it made her insides shift like tectonic plates beneath the earth. She touched him through the fabric of his trousers, stroking the thick length of him while his tongue played with hers.

He briefly broke the kiss so he could shuck off his trousers and underwear. Poppy faintly registered the thud of his shoes hitting the floor. She was mesmerised by the male beauty of his body. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen a naked man before but she had never seen one who looked so magnificent. She touched his tanned flat abdomen with an experimental glide of her hand. ‘You’re so...’ she swallowed convulsively ‘...big.’

‘Don’t be frightened, ma belle.’ He took her hand and placed it against his erection. She wrapped her fingers around him, getting to know his shape and feel. He was both satin and steel, power and potency, yet vulnerable too. She felt the pulse of his blood against her hand, the need there thundering so similarly to what was happening in her own body. There was even a bead of moisture forming at the head of his erection; just like the slippery dew she could feel secretly gathering between her thighs.

He gently pulled her hand away and pressed her back down against the mattress, his limbs in a sexy tangle with hers. ‘My turn to explore you.’ He laid a hand on her belly, just above her pubic bone.

Poppy shivered at the intimate contact; those long fingers were so close to where she most ached and throbbed. Her breath caught in her throat as he gently separated her with his fingers as if she was a delicate hothouse flower that needed careful handling. Her nerves quivered and shook as he delicately traced her form, not touching her anywhere too hard or for too long, his slow but sure process building up a delicious tension inside her.

‘I want to taste you.’

Poppy saw the intent in his coal-black eyes and shuddered in nervous anticipation. She felt him move down her body, his warm breath caressing her folds, his tongue stroking the seam of her body in a gentle sweep that had her sucking in a sharp breath and shrinking back in startled surprise. ‘Oh!’

He paused. ‘Don’t back away from it, ma petite. Relax; let yourself go.’

‘I don’t think I can...’ Poppy suddenly felt exposed and inadequate. What if she was hopeless at this? What if he thought she was ugly or different down there? She hadn’t waxed as neatly as her peers. She found the thought of being totally bare down there a little unsettling. Was she supposed to look like a little girl or a woman? What did men want? Was he comparing her to all his other lovers?

‘Hey.’ Rafe captured her chin and made her look at him. ‘You’re beautiful. You taste beautiful. You smell beautiful.’

Poppy covered her face with her hands. ‘This is why I’m still a virgin at twenty-five. I’m hopeless at this.’

He tugged her hands away from her face. ‘You’re not hopeless at this. Relax, ma petite. We’re not in a hurry. Take all the time you need.’

‘But what about you?’

He stroked the flank of her thigh with a slow, caressing touch. ‘I can come in two minutes or forty-two. It’s in my control.’

She frowned. ‘But I thought...’

He pressed the pad of his thumb over her lips. ‘Stop thinking, ma chérie. Your job right now is to feel.’

Poppy let out an uneven breath as he stroked her thigh again. His touch was like a velvet glove against her skin. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the moment, to the feel of his hand on her thigh, her belly and her breasts in gentle glides that were almost reverent. He came back to her with his mouth, soft as a feather landing on her, waiting for her to feel comfortable before progressing to firmer, more intimate caresses. She felt the slow stroke of his tongue, the sensations ricocheting through her, but instead of fighting them this time she embraced them. It was like a giant wave coming down over her. It swept her up in its vortex, tumbling her over and over in a dizzying whirlpool that made her feel disoriented. She heard a high, keening cry split the air and realised with quite some embarrassment that it had come from her.