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She licked her lips. He leant behind her and unzipped her tunic, but she tugged him into her mouth and worked her tongue around him. It was warm and wet and so, so good.
But he stopped, stepped back. She was still clothed and he wanted every last piece of perfection spread out before him. He was going to give her what she needed.
In seconds he had pulled off her tunic and unfastened her bra. Her breasts fell into his hands and he bent his head to kiss the heavy white flesh and lick her erect rosy nipples.
Again she cried out when he touched them.
‘Angel…’ he said, easing her back, but still she held his head to them and he nuzzled against her, scenting her, glorying in her.
Gently he laid her back to tug off her other clothes, and he marvelled in the lush, feminine woman she had become. Her hair fanned out like a halo, her body round and flowing like life itself.
Finally he found what he wanted—the dark dart of hair at the apex of her thighs, shielding her soft, moist lips and her tiny hard pearl.
He took her knees in his hands and spread her legs, loving how her flesh opened for him. Then he settled down on his knees and did what he had longed to do all this time. He tasted her, working his tongue against her most sensitive area. He kissed and sucked and licked her until he had truly learned her deepest most womanly essence.
He looked up as she lifted her head. Her eyes were glazed with pleasure, but she speared him with a long look and in it he saw hope and fear and trust.
He clutched her hips and worked at her, hearing her call his name, urging him on. He flicked his tongue over and over her hot, hard bud, now swollen and bursting, ready to throb with her orgasm. Then he felt her hips rise up in the air and he suckled her hard. She screamed and released and broke apart for him. And it was beautiful.
In a heartbeat he was on his feet, cradling her, rolling her gently onto her side. Then, as he held her breasts in his hands, he slid his aching cock inside her. Her hands reached around him, grabbing him and urging him on, still crying out her pleasure. With every thrust he kept her going. He knew he was only moments behind her. He felt his own release build, and finally he pulsed and poured himself into her—over and over again.
Moments passed. More moments. Their breath slowed and heat began to grow between their bodies. Usually he could never hold a woman close after lovemaking, but he held her tight, relishing what they’d done. It had been immense. Amazing. It was incredible how sex was so different with her. Like taming a tiger, coaxing her to trust him. That feeling as she’d looked into his eyes had meant more to him than all the declarations of love he’d heard over the years from other women.
He placed his hands on her stomach gently, reverently. He smoothed his fingers over her skin, lightly probing the precious bundle she contained.
‘He’s fine in there?’ he asked.
He felt her shift away from him.
‘Of course.’
She disentangled her arms from his and pulled the sheet between them, tucking herself further away.
‘Is everything OK?’
She shifted further, swung her legs onto the floor and stood up.
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said, but she didn’t turn around.
He sat up on one elbow, watching as she walked into the en suite bathroom, more perfect than the Venus de Milo. His own goddess, come to life.
‘I’m going to shower,’ she said, and closed the door.
Raffaele lay back, spread his arms wide and pushed a pillow behind his head, running what they’d done through his mind, comparing it to the first time, when he’d taken her in the shower. He should have gone slow and steady. They’d need to work their way up to that, he thought, smiling to himself.
He was getting hard again, even thinking about it. He put his hand on his cock and stroked. Yes. Hydros could wait another half-hour.
He walked to the door of the bathroom. The shower was on. He knocked and entered. But instead of his beautiful goddess, soaked with suds and wet with desire, he saw she was leaning on outstretched arms over the sink, staring at herself in the mirror.
She turned sharply. ‘I’m fine. I won’t be long,’ she said, fixing him with that haughty look.
He hung around the doorframe, trying to figure out what was happening, but she didn’t move away from the sink.
‘Do you feel sick? Is that what’s wrong?’
Clearly something was up. He stepped forward to pull her into his arms, but she grabbed up a towel like a matador and skirted away, opening the shower door, stepping inside and flicking the towel over the glass in one smooth movement.
‘I’m perfectly fine, thanks,’ she said, closing the screen and turning away from him. She lifted her face to the spray and then stood, washing the droplets from her cheeks.
