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I can feel his hot breath against my skin, making my spine shiver.
His tongue works its way from my neck to the tip of my chin, planting little kisses. I lose my breath, feeling his erection press in between my thighs again.
My lungs forget to do their job as my toes curl in response to his slow movement.
My fingers rake through his hair, tugging at its root as I roll my head backward. I move along with him, with tiny whimpers falling from my lips.
He groans. And I feel it on my skin. His tongue is everywhere on me.
A sharp sound escapes my lips as he fondles my left breast. I gasp for air, searching for something to hold onto. I can feel myself melting from his touch. From his strong capable hands.
“Ah… cazzo (fuck),” I breathe.
My legs instinctively clasp tighter around his waist as I feel his fingers in between my thighs. He cups me and begins to stroke his fingers against me.
I lose every ounce of strength, digging my fingers into the muscles in his arms.
His lips find mine just in time to swallow a loud moan.
My eyes keep fluttering as I struggle to keep them open from the pressure of his lips. Fuck… his fingers.
He makes my legs grow weak as he slides a finger inside my panties.
No.
Will Mother be rolling in her grave?
I can’t think straight with his finger inside me.
No, Adri-
I gasp into his mouth as I feel another finger. It crashes my senses.
I can’t think of anything else except him. The taste of alcohol on his lips. His fingers. And the fact that I might be hurting him with my fingers digging into his arm.
He breaks the kiss and plants his lips on my breast. It is ecstatic as I feel his wet tongue caress my nipples. I’m drowning. And melting.
Maybe both. I’ve never felt like this…
Chapter one
Alessandro
Earlier That Day
“Get the fuck out of my house!” I yell.
In a fit of anger, I smash the vodka glass against the wall. The liquid leaves a wet stain on the white wall. Pieces of the broken glass are scattered on the floor. “Pezzi di merda (Pieces of shit)! All of you!”
The two men standing in front of me turn deaf ears to my words. It pisses me off even more.
Losing a cocaine delivery always costs me lots of money. And these bastards know how much I hate losing my money.
“Boss, we had no idea the cops were following us,” one says. He has a bleeding cut on the side of his head.
“We barely escaped,” he adds, with his arms crossed down by his waist.
His muscles stick out through the tight black leather jacket he has on. He is only a few inches shorter than I am.
