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Instead, it makes me bolder.

Going back to using just one hand, I sweep my thumb over the head again. Domenico groans, his eyes closing for half a second. I’ve never seen him like this. Usually, I’m the one squirming and moaning while he watches me fall apart. Having even this small amount of power over him feels intoxicating.

So naturally, I do it again. And again.

His hand shoots out and closes around my wrist. “Why did you stop me?” I whine, not happy at the interruption.

“Because otherwise I’m going to come all over your hand, wife.” His voice is rougher now, strained in a way that makes pride bloom in my chest. “And I’m not ready for that yet.”

I furrow my brows, not understanding. Then… yeah, I do understand, and I feel a blush warming my cheeks.

“Mmm, good girl,” he croons. “I want to taste you again.” His hand slides between my thighs, fingers finding me wet and ready, and he groans against my neck. “Drink you down. I’ve been thinking about it since last time. Going fucking mad with it.”

“Oh, God,” I moan. “I want that, too.”

“Get on the bed.”

I immediately do as he says, and he follows me. Then he’s moving. Down my body, his mouth leaving a trail of heat—my collarbone, the swell of my breasts, my ribs, my stomach. Each kiss is lingering and possessive, and by the time he settles between my thighs, my heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat.

The sight of his broad shoulders between my thighs, his mouth inches from where I’m most sensitive, sends a jolt through me.

“I love the way your pussy tastes,” he growls, and then his mouth is on me.

The first contact is flat, the broad press of his tongue against my entrance, and the sensation is so intense I arch off the bed with a moan. His hands clamp down on my hips, holding me in place, and I can feel his fingers digging into the flesh.

There’s no rushing as Domenico uses his tongue to work me open with a patience that feels criminal. Especially when I have none myself.

“Stop teasing me,” I moan, barely recognizing my own voice.

“As you wish.” His words are the only warning I get before he uses his hands to peel my pussy lips apart, exposing my clit.

“Domenico!” I cry as he blows air straight on my bundle of nerves.

Chuckling, he hardens his tongue and uses it to circle my clit with precision that makes my thighs shake, and the sound that tears from my throat is raw and broken.

“Domenico—”

“Stay still.” His voice is muffled against me. “Let me do this.”

I try. God, I try.

But his mouth is magic, and his tongue is wicked. Every time he sucks my clit between his lips, I lose whatever composure I had. My hips buck against his hold, seeking more pressure, more friction, and each time he lets me move for exactly one second before pinning me down again.

He reads me like a book written in a language only he understands. When my breathing quickens, he slows down. When my thighs tremble, he doubles his efforts. He moves one of his fingers to my opening and pushes inside.

“I think my greedy wife needs more,” he grunts.

“Yes!” I cry. “Please!”

Adding a second finger, he scissors and curls both deep inside me. The combined sensation of his fingers and mouth is too much.

“Oh… yes. Yes. Domenico!” I scream as an orgasm hits with almost no warning.

One second I’m hovering on the edge, the next I’m crashing over it. I clamp my thighs around his head as a moan tears from my throat. It’s followed by his name, broken into syllables I can’t control.

My back arches off the bed, my fingers finding his hair and twisting, and he doesn’t stop or even slow down. His tongue keeps working me through it, dragging the pleasure out until I’m shaking and sobbing and begging him to stop because I can’t take anymore.

He doesn’t stop.