On The Ropes (Tapped Out 3)

It would be my choice.

Eyes on his, I brushed over him, once, twice, a dozen times. Getting him wet with my desire, driving him insane until he gritted his teeth. But he slid his hands under the pillows behind him, bracing his shoulders, allowing me the freedom to control the pace.

I’d wanted him before, now I craved him.

I bit my lip before I sank down on him, and still wasn’t able to stifle my swift exhale. I tried to make it manageable, to only take a little bit, but my body had other ideas. While my brain was still reeling, my hips drove forward and took him almost to the hilt in one pass.

One of us groaned. It might’ve been him, because I couldn’t breathe. He’d filled me up, every pore. I was steeped in him. Drowning.

Lost.

“Christ, this body.” He looked me over, swallowing his cock as I rode, and shook his head. “I’d cover you in burlap and never let you leave the house.”

My lips curved, bolstered by his words. Perhaps that had been his intention. I’d been bouncing around on top of him like I’d never had sex before, unsure how to find a rhythm. I was used to being led. The man rutting into me until I finally came as much to get it over with as anything else. I’d never been on top before. Never been in control.

The one thing I’d been searching for above all else, and he’d given it to me. In spite of the price to himself, and the huge amounts of willpower it was taking him to hold back and let me lead, he’d willingly handed over the reins.

So I needed to figure out how to use them.

Gathering my nerve, I locked my arms behind my head and gave into the urge to go faster. To take him deeper. It took me a minute to find my groove. Less for him to swear in Italian again and clutch the pillows beside him with fingers gone white at the knuckles. His gaze was riveted between my legs and I looked too, swallowing at the sight of my wetness smeared all over his length. His skin was so much darker than mine, Mediterranean gold, and the contrast as that thick shaft plunged between my reddened lips was startling.

“I can see every damn thing,” he gritted out. “Even your shiny pink pearl, so swollen. Touch it.”

I did as he said without thought. Shyly, I flicked it once, my eyes going wide and connecting with his at the jolt that sizzled through me. Power, heady and dark.

“Again. Harder.”

Doing what he commanded felt like breathing. My finger sped up, falling into the pattern I used when I was alone. Except there was a thick, throbbing cock inside me, hulling me out, his hips lifting now to do the work while I enjoyed the wonder of my body. Of his, in mine.

I was so wet that my finger slipped again and again. Then I was using two, chasing the pleasure tightening deep inside me. I lifted my face to the light rain, savoring it on my skin as my fingers rotated in mad circles and his hips slammed up into mine. He was so strong, and he was hitting me just where I needed it, far inside in a place that made my knees turn to water on either side of him. I couldn’t stay upright any longer, couldn’t do anything but clench him inside me while the spasms started and spun out.

The first cry left my lips against his throat. I bit him to hold back the next, but it turned into a scream as he took over the task of my hand between my legs. He used both, locking most of his fingers around my quaking thighs. Only his thumbs met over my clit and stroked me like an instrument that had been tuned solely to him.

My second climax started before the first stopped. I buried my face in his hair, my hips pumping frantically, trying to contain the wild pulses of his cock before they vibrated through my body and shattered me. Then he was coming, my name a roar from his throat as the warmth of his release blasted me deep inside. Even that continued my orgasm, making it go on and on until I whimpered and dug my nails into his tensed shoulders.

Spent, blitzed beyond belief, I crumpled on top of him. And he stroked my back as the aftershocks rolled through us both.

It was the rain that brought me back.

Sometime later I lifted my head and studied the splatter of miniscule raindrops on my arm. The rain was falling on an empty bed. Empty of Gio anyway.

There was just me, lying naked in the center of the bed with what appeared to be a handmade throw tossed over my back.

I huddled beneath it, shaking suddenly though the room wasn’t cold. Spying the beer on the nightstand, I crawled across the bed and tipped it back, swallowing the warm liquid so fast that it spilled out of my mouth. I rubbed the moisture away with my wrist and looked around blearily, taking in the room that hadn’t made a dent in my consciousness earlier.

“That’s not milk, you know.”

His voice sent tingles over my skin as if he’d physically touched me. “It was sitting here.”

“Yeah, I forgot about it. I went to make you…this.”

I turned back, the cover wrapped around me, and frowned at the mug he held out. I clutched my beer closer to my chest. “I like mine better.”

He plucked the bottle out of my hand. “Warm milk will help you sleep.”

“Alcohol will get me drunk. A good drunk also helps me sleep.”

“You have school tomorrow.”