Chapter 4

4

Olivia

"Wait, can we?—"

He drags his tongue up my pussy lips, and oh, my fucking god, all thoughts drain from my head. He flattens his tongue and swipes it across my slit again and again. My eyes roll back in my head. What was I going to say? Doesn't matter; not important. He takes big handfuls of my ass cheeks and squeezes so hard, I yelp. He softens his touch by curling his tongue around my clit. He sucks on it, and I mewl, hold onto his hair, and tug him even closer. He slurps on my pussy, strumming my pussy lips with his tongue, then stabs it inside my channel. He sinks his tongue inside me over and over again. Each time he mimics how he'll fuck me with his cock, my entire body trembles. My back curves. A trembling grips me.

"I'm going to?—"

He pulls his tongue out of my channel and leans back.

I sway a little, then glance down at him. "What, what are you?—?"

He grips the backs of my thighs, rises to his feet, and hauls me up with him like I weigh nothing. I'm not light. At five-foot-seven, with curves that I've never managed to control, I weigh more than I should. But he lifts me like it's nothing.

"Hey—" I grab hold of his shoulders. "What are you?—"

He merely turns, then throws me down on the bed. I bounce twice, then shove the hair back from my face. When I look up at him, he's staring at me with a fierce hunger on his face. He looks like he hasn't eaten for weeks, and I'm the first morsel he's come across and can't wait to consume. The protest I was going to voice dies in my throat. I gulp; and watch as he wipes the back of his hand across his glistening mouth. He's wearing me on his lips, and oh, God, that's so freakin' hot.

He reaches behind him, and his biceps flex as he grabs the back of his T-shirt and pulls it off. He flings it aside, yanks off his boots and socks, then shucks his pants. When he straightens, my breath catches.

I was wrong. Ripped is an understatement to describe his body. Eight-pack chest and corrugated abs, with the picture of an eagle in mid-flight inked diagonally across his pecs. The beak touches the base of his throat, one of the wings wrap around the front of his chest, and the other folds around his back, embracing him.

The claws of the bird curl down as if pointing to the magnificent shaft that points upward between his thighs. And what thighs they are—corded with muscles and lightly dusted with hair, they frame his thick, pulsing cock. I certainly chose the right man to break my dry spell.

My heart seems to have become a hummingbird, with the way it flaps in my chest. My pulse skitters against my wrists and at the base of my throat. I push up on my elbows and watch as he approaches the bed. Without taking his gaze off of my face, he bends, curls his fingers around my ankles, and tugs me forward until I am poised with my ass on the edge of the bed. One side of his lips twist. He reaches over and pulls out a package from the nightstand. I hear the crinkle of the wrapper then watch as he slides it over his cock, sheathing himself. He locks his gaze with mine, then grabs my thighs and pries them apart, so I am spread wide for him. He leans down just enough for the crown of his cock to nudge my opening.

A moan bleeds from my lips.

"Tell me your name," he growls.

I shake my head. "No names."

"I gave you my name; it's only fair you give me yours."

"Is that even your real name?"

"What do you think?" He drags the tip of his cock up my pussy lips, and I jerk my pelvis forward, trying to capture it with my slit.

"I think you should stop teasing me, and fuck me."

He laughs. The sound is dark and silky, and so mean, it tugs on my nerve endings. I dig my fingers into the cover as he strums my pussy lips with his dick. He prods my slit with his cock, and I gasp. "Please, please, please," I blubber. God, how demeaning is this? And it's not fair that he asks my name when I told him specifically that I didn't want to share what it was. He pulls back and my ovaries cry with desperation. My guts twist, and my belly clenches. "Massimo, fuck me already."

"Your name, Stellina ." His lips kick up.

Little star. He called me little star. Why would he do that? It's such an unusual and beautiful endearment, it feels like it means something. But it can't. This is just a one-night stand, and I intend to keep it that way.

He places his knee on the bed, and leans over me to cup my breast. He places his mouth over mine, his nose almost bumping mine, sharing my breath. He peers into my eyes, then whispers, "Please, tell me your name."

Maybe it's because he says please, or it's because I want to hear my name from his lips, but I can't stop myself from whispering, "Via." I squeeze my eyes shut. "You can call me Via."

"Can I kiss you, Via?" he murmurs.

"Eh?" I snap my eyelids open in surprise. He releases my breast, only to palm my cheek. "May I? I very much want to taste your mouth."

I glance between his eyes, the pupils so dark they seem to take up most of the space in those stunning irises, leaving only a circle of gray-blue around the edges.

"Via?" He lowers his gaze to my mouth. "May I…?" He lets the words hang there between us, leaving it up to me, and somehow, it's as sexy as him licking my pussy.

"Yes, please, I?—"

He captures my mouth with his, cutting off whatever I was going to say. Not that it matters, for sparks—no, explosions—fill my mind, then fade away, leaving nothing but the taste of him, the scent of him, the feel of his tongue sliding over mine as he presses his lips to mine and kisses me. I feel his touch all the way to my toes, to my fingertips, to the roots of my hair. Somehow, it's more intimate than him thrusting his tongue into my cunt. This sharing of breaths, of tasting myself on him, the press of his lips, which are both firm and soft at the same time, as he draws from me and opens himself up to me all at once. A groan rumbles up his chest. He tilts his face, deepens the kiss, and that burning in my lower belly erupts into a full-blown forest fire. I throw my arms around his shoulders, and angle my hips so his cock slides in.

My entire body seems to sigh in recognition. It doesn't feel like it's the first time he's made love to me—Fuck! What am I thinking? He's not making love to me, he's fucking me. And it feels like we've fucked before.

He sinks another inch, opening me up even more around his girth, and oh, God, it feels so good. So unreal. I wrap my legs around his waist, push my hips up, and my pussy envelops more of his cock. He throbs inside of me, and all of my blood seems to drain to my clit. He bites down on my lower lip and I tremble. He licks my mouth, and a moan wells up. I flutter my eyes open to find him watching me. And this… His direct eye contact is too much.

To see my desire reflected in the spark that ignites deep within his, turns this entire experience into something different. Something potent. Something I have no control over. Something that's going to change my life. Something I am going to regret. I widen my gaze, open my mouth to tell him I want him to stop, when he lunges forward. He buries himself to the hilt, his balls slap against my thighs, and he hits that spot deep inside. "Oh, my god!" I cry out. Vibrations radiate out from where we are connected. He pulls out, and still holding my gaze, he slams up and into me in one long, smooth stroke. The entire bed jerks and I move up the mattress. He leans more of his weight on me to hold me in place, then he begins to fuck me in earnest.