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His mouth is close enough to mine that if I just puckered, our lips would touch. His mouth takes mine like a hungry thief. The soft, wet invasion of his tongue spins my senses.
“There is a lot to like about you, Princess Benedetti.” My lips are trembling, close to his. My nipples sting as they harden and swell. “You smell good, you taste good.” His big hand cups my breast. “And you feel good.”
He squeezes my breasts, then my breath leaps and he pinches my nipples, hard.
“I know you’re supposed to keep yourself for Carlo.” His voice is liquid caramel in my ear. “But it’s just a matter of hours either way.”
The breath seizes in my chest and my panties are soaking. I can smell it. It makes me even hotter. There’s no end to the treachery of my woman’s body. It knows what it wants, and its wants are limitless.
He lowers his chin as he looks in my eyes. “I’ll teach you some things. You’ll be better for him.” He blinks. “See, I’m just looking out for him. And you, of course.”
Even behind the breathtaking arrogance, he’s so damned sure of himself.
My hips want to rock against him. I want to grind myself right into him. What happened with Alessio in the limo only left me raging and desperate. If I had a hard time keeping my V-card with him, not letting go of it with big, athletic Bruno, the way I feel now is going to be twice as hard or worse.
And his voice and his eyes and the overpowering scents of him are melting me already.
The heavy silky cotton of his suit smells like money, the look in his eyes feels like crime, and the heat in the front of his pants makes me want to open up completely. His hand, drifting, fluttering over my breasts, teases my exposed skin. He traces down my cleavage, barely touching my skin on his way down to my stomach.
He teases me like he reads my thoughts, but I know that his gentleness, his sensitivity, is just a come-on. A trap to make me drop my guard.
And I want to. I want to drop my panties and all the rest of my clothes. I want to wrap my whole naked body tight around him. Squeeze and grind every part of me against every taut damned muscle on his too-hot to be true body.
Panting, hardly able to breathe, I want to feel him press himself into every part of me. And the look in his eyes tells me that he knows it.
Bastard.
My wrists are sore in his grip as he stretches my arms higher. Pulling all my weight on the sockets. His fingertips graze down my back. Skid over my ass and down, down to the creases under my cheeks. He helps himself freely to a big and filthy squeeze.
A smile, nearly a grin, drifts under the surface behind his mouth. Which I’m still tasting. I inhale him, breathe him in, as if my breath would be enough to bring him into my mouth.
His fingers are on the outside of my wet panties and I’m buzzing from my thighs to my nipples and my throat.
Teasing tenderly, his lips shape to mine again. Then he forcefully locks us together. Savagely this time, his breath takes mine and he welds us together; his tongue invades me. Shows me that he can take me. Own me. Have me, in whatever way he wants. Lets me know that whatever defenses I might have, they will collapse and fall in a heap in front of him.
He grips my ass. Hard. Then slaps. I’m rising up on tiptoe, reaching my mouth up to him. Trembling, almost shaking as I stretch. Breathing him in. Molding myself onto him. All of me. On all of him. A charge of pure energy flashes from my core, out through my whole body like liquid need.
Pushing forward, I’m tugging to get my hands free. I want to hold the hard strength of his face, the line of his jaw, and I need to push my breasts against him. He could let go of my wrists, then I could wrap my arms around him. And he could hold and squeeze my breasts some more. Tug on my nipples. Make them even more sore.
But he’s not falling for any of that. This man knows what he’s doing. No tricks or diversions are going to fool him or put him off. What he wants is clear. He wants everything. By force. And I don’t know how I can stop him.
Not when my breasts want him so much. And my pussy is weeping for him. When my hands are fighting to get at him.
His fingers are between the cheeks of my ass. Oh, God. Well, maybe that’s a way I can keep my V-card safe. If I can be sure. If that’s what he’s going for, Play the cards you’ve got, I can hear Mikey’s voice echo. Though I don’t think he meant his advice for a situation quite like this.
Our kiss deepens. My hips sway and shove against him. The hard heat in his pants gets me grinding, and I lose concentration. I should be resisting him. My chest heaves and my breath is thick and heavy. I could drown, swimming in his strong arms. Slipping deeper into semi-consciousness, drifting farther from our surroundings and deeper into him.
He squeezes my ass again. This time it’s more provocative. Sensual. Demanding. His hardness throbs against my clit. Maybe I could just let him…
“We don’t talk about this.” He’s looking down as his fingers find my most eager, sensitive triggers. He slips into my panties. Pulls them, rolls them down till they’re a cord, wrapped tight around the tops of my thighs.
The cool-hot air fans my hot-hot pussy, weeping and swollen, needing and pleading. I’m going to melt. I have to stop this. Somehow. Only…
He looks in my eyes, so hard it makes me tremble. “We don’t tell anyone.” His finger traces my quivering opening. My wet lips part.
There’s a crash of glass. The noise outside in the ballroom shifts in tone. We both freeze. The sounds of commotion swell and grow, loud enough to seize Bruno’s attention, as well as my own. Then there’s an unmistakeable crack of gunfire.
Bruno straightens up, snapped into an expert alertness. He holds up his left hand to me as a ‘wait’ signal, as he reaches into his coat with his right and shoulders through the door. “Stay here,” he tells me, holding up a hand, with just a look back.
