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“Oh, fuck,” she breathed, her thighs clenching on his ears.
Antonio didn’t pause his strokes. She wanted to explode, and he would grant her that. He’d hurl her into a hard, quick orgasm with everything he’d learned about her body. She wasn’t wet enough for his fingers to plunge inside, so he slid his hands under her ass instead, caressing the cheeks as he lifted her against his face. He closed his lips around her clit, sucking her into his mouth.
“Shit, I’m—” Her head writhed on the pillow. “I can’t, that’s—”
His growl at her denial vibrated her clit before he sucked again. Her hips lifted in his hands, pressing her tighter against him as she came.
Vespa’s breath sobbed out of her as her arm moved up to press over her eyes.
He eased his pressure as he pulled her through the orgasm, dragging out every shiver he could before lifting his head. “There. Is your mind successfully blown?”
To his shock, a broken sob slipped from between her busted lips.
“Vespa?” he called softly, his chest burning as she pressed her arm harder against her eyes and her lips twisted despite how much that must have hurt.
He lowered her ass, gently closing her legs before moving up the bed.
“Let me see your face,” he demanded, his hand hovering over her arm.
Her chest heaved before the sobs continued, one right after another. Her arm dropped, and her eyes were drenched before closing tightly in retreat. She waved her hand. “Ignore me,” she tried to say between gasping breaths, her whole body shaking.
Antonio’s hands slipped beneath her back and legs, and he lifted her onto his lap, putting his arms carefully around her as she cried.
“Your erection”—another sob broke free—“is poking my ass,” she accused, not looking at him and tense as hell in his arms.
“That’s what happens when you come all over my face. Now shut up and let yourself have the release.” The one he’d given her had relaxed her enough to give into a wholly different kind. He had a feeling it was one she wasn’t used to letting herself have. He remained careful as he cradled her, worried he’d hurt her already bruised body. That worry calmed his hard-on. He’d never planned to give into his body’s natural reaction in the first place.
Vespa was an ugly crier. Her face turned red and splotchy, her nose filled with snot, and the cut on her lip began bleeding as she failed to quiet her sobs. Or maybe it was from her attempts to apologize between the loud noises she was making.
Antonio hushed her as he pulled her face into his neck, feeling her cries vibrating his skin, and a wetness there that was probably snot.
He simply held her through it.
Their position had the added benefit of keeping her bad shoulder free from his body, though that hand gripped his jacket tight despite the pain it must have created.
As her breathing eventually settled, the air she breathed out puffed hotly against his skin. The rise and fall of her chest slowed, and her hand loosened, flattening against his dress shirt over his heart.
A quiet settled over the room and wove around them. Antonio’s thoughts snarled into a shape that he couldn’t unravel.
She sniffled loudly against his neck.
“You can wipe your nose on my clothes,” he told her.
“No way!” She lifted away from him enough to drag her good arm under her nose. “Though I guess I already ruined your suit.” Her other hand hadn’t moved; it pressed harder against his chest.
“It’ll clean.” Antonio’s hand moved to the back of her head. “Come here.”
She settled in surprisingly easily. She was so warm in his arms, but maybe that was from the crying jag.
The tension in her body seeped away until he brought it right back. “Ready to tell me what happened?” he asked.
“Sorry about crying,” she muttered, hissing in a breath as she tried to push away.
“Stop that. And don’t apologize.” He stretched out his legs, liking the way hers looked on top of them. “I knew fucking you with my mouth was a bad idea, but I chose to do it. I’m not sorry about it.”
“Please.” She sniffed hard as she turned to settle her back on his chest. Her hurt arm rested over her stomach. “That was the least sexy thing to see: me sobbing like a baby.”
His hand rested over hers. “Am I running?” His other hand curled around a section of her hair, tugging on it gently. “Come on. Talk to me. What are you so in your head about?” He let the strands flow through his fingers. “Are you still feeling responsible for what happened? Because you’re not.”
