Page 75 of Alessio

Still.

He had the best view like that, she realized. Looking down, watching himself fuck her. His next three thrusts came slower, but deeper than before, the final one making him still as her name tumbled from him with the rawest sound.

“Ginevra, fuck …”

He shook, too.

He lost his breath, too.

And she was still spinning high.

Ginevra wasn’t sure how long the two of them stayed like that, tucked close, saying nothing, and letting it all sink in. A minute, or maybe two.

Hell, it might have been more.

She didn’t care to know.

A throat cleared further down the hall, and Ginevra’s eyes squeezed shut, knowing. Against her chest, Alessio let out a dusky laugh that still somehow sounded airless as his shoulders lifted with his breaths. She turned her head, unsurprised to find Corrado lingering at the end of the hall, half around corner, and half not. He didn’t directly look at them, but he didn’t keep his focus off them, either.

The ridge of his erection straining against his slacks was impossible to miss, never mind the way his tongue snaked out to wet his lips like he’d seen something he liked. She might have been embarrassed another time, but not then.

The doors were open here.

And she wanted to do this again.

All of it.

With both.

“Food is hot,” Corrado said, “whenever you would both like to join me.”

That said, Corrado turned, and left her view.

Ginevra made a sound under her breath. “What happens now? What do we do now?”

Alessio laughed again. “Nothing. Everything. Anything.”

Well, that told her all she needed to know, didn’t it?

Sex was sex to Alessio, and he rarely, if ever—because he couldn’t remember a time when it happened—felt awkward afterward. He understood why other people might feel that way, though. Which was why after he’d tucked himself away, and slid Ginevra’s cotton shorts back up her legs, he helped her down from the table in the hallway, and with a press of his palm against her lower back, directed her into the nearest bedroom.

Hers.

She twisted her fingers, fidgeting as he moved around the room to pull clean clothes from the dresser before setting them on the edge of her bed. Not that she had a lot of clothes—a few things, he supposed. Enough to get her by here as Corrado told him.

“You need more clothes,” Alessio muttered.

Ginevra let out a soft laugh. “And what would you know about that? You only wear black; everything looks the same.”

He tossed her a heated look over his shoulder, and he liked the way she stilled when his gaze landed on her. All over again, the taste of her seemed to flood his mouth, and every sweet sound that came out of her when she was being fucked filled his ears again.

Yeah.

Alessio was screwed.

“Really, I just always look the same?” he asked, arching a brow.

Ginevra grinned, some of her nervousness bleeding away. “You’re far too cocky for your own good.”