by Tamara Lush
“Okay. It’s longer than my hand. And I can just get my thumb and middle finger around the thickest part.”
In the glow of the cell phone light, she held up her hand, circling her thumb and middle finger together. Wow. And that was her hand. His was much bigger.
“Okay. How hard are you, on a scale of one to ten?”
“Umm, about a nine.”
“Really? Why? I haven’t said anything particularly sexy.”
He hummed. “Your voice turns me on. I like American accents.”
“I like your voice, too. So, are you, like, stroking yourself? That’s what I want you to do.”
“I am.”
“Slow? Or fast?”
“Slow. Very slow. I’m kind of teasing myself the way you’re teasing me.”
Her breath hitched at the thought of him moving his hand lazily up and down his shaft. “Luca?”
“Si, mia cara?”
Every time he spoke Italian in his languid accent she melted.
“Have you stroked—um, jerked off—thinking of me before tonight?”
He laughed, a low, slow and wicked sound. “What do you think?”
“I…I don’t know.” She held her breath, because she suspected the answer. “Yes. You have.”
“More times than I want to admit,” he said. “Does that bother you?”
“No…definitely not. Are you imagining it’s my hand on you right now?”
“I am. And your mouth. I think about that a lot, you on your knees. Your mouth. Your tongue. Coming in your mouth…” His voice trailed off.
“Harder. I want you to stroke harder,” she said, her voice firm and low. She felt a surge of power. Where had this demanding, sexual woman been hiding? Never before had she been so insistent with a guy. James had always wanted her to talk dirty, but she’d never been comfortable. Something about Luca made her feel safe.
He inhaled sharply. “Oh, Skylar. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
“Tell me what you think about when you jerk off,” she said, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. She kicked off the comforter because it was suddenly too warm. She imagined Luca’s hand grasping her hair as she took him in her mouth.
He growled. “I think about kissing you hard and soft and any way I want. For hours. Then taking off your clothes slowly but leaving your panties on. Running my fingers over your body, tracing your nipples… I saw how they got hard last night.”
“More. I want to hear more.”
“I fantasize about spreading your legs wide. I know you’ll be wet for me.”
Her breath came out in a long sigh. She was already wet—had been for days, it seemed.
“Are you wearing panties right now?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“Color?”
“Pale blue. Lace.”
“Bellissima. And they are wet, no?”
Her entire body throbbed, thinking about how his fingers would feel inside of her. How they would open her and explore every nerve-covered peak and valley. She responded in a whisper. “Um…they are…soaked.”
“Che bella ragazza. I want to run my fingers over your panties and tease you for a long time. Then take them off and slide two fingers into you. Lick you very slow, until you cry out a little bit. Then make you ask—no, beg—for an orgasm.” His voice was thick with pleasure.
Toying with the elastic edge of her panties, Skylar slipped her hand down the front of her underwear and touched herself, unable to wait until she got off the phone. “What if I want you to beg?”
He groaned, and she had never heard such a masculine sound, never felt such a primitive need for a man. “How close are you?” she asked in a whisper.
“Really close. Are you touching yourself?”
“Mmmhmm,” she whispered.
He didn’t respond, and she made little needy noises while running her finger through her wetness. She heard his breath, fast and forceful. The words slipped out of her mouth, from where, she had no idea, because she normally wasn’t so demanding. “You can’t come until after I do. Stop.”
He released his breath in a long expulsion. “Maybe you have a dominant side you weren’t aware of, mia cara. You seem to enjoy teasing me.”
“You said I could. So stop touching yourself and tell me more of what you want to do to me.”
“I’d lick you until you were right on the edge of coming, then I’d kiss you. So you could taste yourself on my lips. I’d keep kissing you until you begged for my cock. Before I entered you, I’d rub the head slow over your clit. Skylar, touch yourself now and imagine it’s my cock.”
“Oh, I’m imagining.” Her fingers glided through her swollen, separated folds.
“Sky, can I stroke myself? Can I come? Please?”
“Not yet.” She wasn’t sure what turned her on more, Luca’s voice or her command over him. Her fingers turned their attention to her clitoris, and the backs of her knees perspired. She longed to feel his naked body, his heavy weight on top of her.
Luca moaned and said something in Italian.
“God, it’s so sexy when you talk in your language.” She would definitely come soon if he continued talking in phrases like that. The ache in between her legs grew to an all-consuming need. “Ahh, Luca? Translation please?”
“I’m saying that we’ll be incredible together, Skylar. I can tell. I want you. I want to consume you. Ti voglio consumare.”
Her orgasm burst through her body when she heard his words, and she gasped louder than she intended, crying out and filling her little bedroom with the sound. “Now. Luca. Come now.”
She heard Luca gasp and shudder a helpless moan as her own entire body vibrated. Not knowing what to say afterward, she murmured a long Mmmm noise. She could hear her heart beating, felt it in her lips and on her fingertips.
Luca exhaled. “Sky?”
“Yes?”
His voice was gravelly. “I want you to do exactly that when we’re together.”
“What? Make myself come?”
He laughed and sounded tired. “Yes, I’d love that. But, no. I want you to tell me exactly what you want. Don’t ever be shy about it. The more you tell me what you want, the more it’ll turn me on. Can you do that for me?”
“I think I can.”
Yet, despite the heat that her body threw off after her orgasm, Skylar shivered. She wasn’t sure if she would reveal anything more of herself to this beautiful, complicated and secretive man, because once she did she knew she’d be in trouble.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
They had been kissing for hours. It started when Skylar arrived and he gave her a long and lazy kiss, pressing her into the door as he locked it. They smooched throughout dinner, in between bites of the pizza he made. Then he led her upstairs to the TV room attached to his big bedroom, and they made out on the sofa for a long time, pausing to talk and laugh as their bodies molded together.
Luca hadn’t spent so much time kissing without having sex since he was a teenager. Skylar’s lips, now practically bruised from his nips and nibbles and bites, made him feel young again. Innocent. He had promised that sex wasn’t an option for them until she gave the go-ahead, and he found himself delighted by the teasing, wanting, aching feeling inside him. Neither had mentioned the hot phone sex, yet that coupled with her in-person shyness drove him wild.
“Are we really going to watch a movie?” She tickled his side. “Or are you going to kiss me all night?”
“I’m going to kiss you while we’re watching a movie. It’s really old, from the seventies. In English it’s called The Passenger, but in Italian it’s Professione: Reporter. It’s about a reporter who takes on a different identity and then falls in love with a woman and they run from criminals. There’s subtitles.”
Skylar grinned. “Sounds good to me.”
Luca chuckled softly. They reclined on a wide, tufted brown leather sofa, and she snuggled her back to his chest as he pressed play on one remote and turned down the lights
with the tap of another. He put his arm around her, wishing she wore a shirt and not a dress so he could easily caress the skin of her stomach.
The movie started. As he stroked the curve of her hip and pressed his lips to her shoulder, he was slammed with an overwhelming, unusual feeling. Normalcy. He had never really been intimate with a woman like this. High school, college, post-college—all were spent on quick hookups. He hadn’t ever taken a relationship slow because he never really attempted to have one. He’d bounced from boarding school to university to internship to his first newspaper. In his early twenties, his career had come first. But somehow, here on Palmira, when he was supposed to be writing a second book, he was spooning a sweet woman and watching a movie. Acting like a man whose parents hadn’t been killed as retribution for his first book. Pretending that he hadn’t spent a year on the run. Appearing as though he wasn’t waiting with dread for a Mafia boss to go on trial.
To an outsider, it would look like he cared about the girl in his arms. And he was starting to care about her. But why her? Why Skylar and not any of the dozen or so other beautiful women he had hooked up with over the years?
It was more than the physical attraction, obviously. Was it because she made him laugh, or was it her quick mind and how she read voraciously? Her favorite book as a child was Harriet the Spy, and now she read true crime. None of the women he’d screwed in recent years read much, and if they did, he hadn’t spent enough time with them to find out their preferences.
He swept Skylar’s hair away from her neck, and she pressed her body closer to his. The coral hue of her little dress made her skin look more velvety and pale, and he longed to lick her from head to toe. They lay tight together, watching the slow movie. He became absorbed in the plot.
After an hour or so, she rolled over and pressed her nose into his chest, puffing out a little snort. He almost laughed aloud at the thought of putting a woman to sleep before sex, but he didn’t want to wake her. So he hugged her close, ignoring his erection. Every so often he’d gaze down at her face and brush his thumb over her cheek. She looked young yet regal. Her mouth turned up at the corners, and her dark eyelashes grazed the tops of her cheekbones.
When the movie was almost over, thunder rumbled in the distance. Skylar nuzzled deeper into his arms and sighed.
“I should go,” she whispered. Her eyes opened, revealing a hazy blue color, then fluttered closed again.
Poor thing, she was exhausted. She had talked about working overtime on a reporting project and he wondered if she was pushing herself too hard.
“Sorry for falling asleep,” she murmured.
“Why don’t you stay? You had a lot of wine and you’re sleepy. And it sounds like it’s about to rain. You shouldn’t drive.”
“Mmmm.” She kissed his neck.
“You can sleep in my bed and I’ll take the guest room. Or the sofa.”
She let out a cute growl of dissatisfaction and pressed her forehead into his chest.
“Or we can sleep in the same bed. I promise I won’t try anything.”
She opened her eyes slowly and looked at him. “Okay.”
He climbed over her body and then pulled her to standing. She followed him through a door and into his bedroom, which was decorated in the home’s formal, tropical-colonial furniture. Luca was ambivalent about his uncle’s home and its luxuries. After backpacking and staying in grungy hostels in third-world countries, the Palmira house and its formal decor seemed cold, like living in a showroom. The four-poster bed with a canopy top in his room was probably the most ostentatious piece, but it would be rude to ask his uncle to redecorate. At some point Luca wanted to remove the gauzy, faux malaria curtains tied to the canopy rails that made him roll his eyes whenever he looked at them.
“Ohh, pretty,” Skylar said dreamily as she touched the curtains hanging around the bed. “Romantic.”
Okay, maybe they weren’t so bad.
He led her to the master bathroom and found a towel.
“Toothpaste?” she asked drowsily, and he set a tube on the wide counter. She shut the door after he left. Like he did every night, he locked the door leading to the hallway and made sure his gun was in the nightstand drawer.
* * *
Skylar brushed her teeth with her finger and took off her bra and stuffed it in between the folds of the towel, not wanting to fling it casually in a corner like at home. Thank God she had worn one of her many cotton tank-top dresses. It would double as a sleep shirt, because there was no way she would trust herself if she slept naked next to Luca.
The bathroom was huge, as big as her bedroom. It was all blonde marble and porcelain. There was a ginormous Jacuzzi tub, a separate shower, a toilet, a bidet and two sinks. She closed the door and sat on the edge of the tub, trying to gather the thoughts in her sleepy mind.
By spending the night, she would be at his mercy. At the mercy of her own desires. Would he sleep naked? She suspected he would put on boxers if she asked. He had been so polite all evening, doing nothing but kissing her. He hadn’t mentioned their phone sex from the previous night, and neither had she, but between that and the nonstop kissing she had been wet between her legs for hours. Her stomach tightened with desire when she recalled how he’d pressed his erection into her when they were on the sofa.
It was embarrassing how she’d fallen asleep, but she’d felt so relaxed lying there with him. Hopefully he wasn’t offended.
She smiled weakly to herself in the mirror. Maybe Luca wasn’t the most forthcoming guy about his past. But really, what did it matter? Hanging out with him was awesome.
Emerging from the bathroom she went to the gorgeous bed, parting the sheer curtains and climbing inside. Luca was at his bureau, taking off his shirt, revealing taut muscles. He wore black boxer-briefs and she noticed that his ass looked really firm. Tonight would take all of her willpower to avoid sex. And yet, what exactly was she waiting for? Why was she holding herself back from pleasure?
He used the bathroom then shut out the light, joining her in bed. When he leaned over for a kiss, she tugged him on top of her. She ran her hands down his back, then lower. Yep. His ass was indeed as tight as it looked.
They kissed for a long time, and a fierce Florida summer storm raced ashore. The room was dark save for flashes of lightning. When a loud crack of thunder exploded overhead, Luca protectively squeezed her closer.
“You’re sure you’re okay with not having sex?” she whispered.
“I’m totally okay. This makes me happy.”
He kissed her neck, wrapping a fistful of her hair in his hand and pulling slightly, tilting her head. When he bit her, Skylar traveled to a different dimension. She opened her mouth, gasping at how his lips sent waves of heat throughout her body.
Luca sat up, kneeling, and pulled her to him, her back to his chest. Her hands squeezed his muscular thighs and she lightly raked her nails over his skin. With his strong arms wrapped around her she felt small and safe. Luca’s hands caressed her thighs under her dress, alternating between gentle strokes and possessive squeezes. Her breasts were heavy with longing in a way they’d never been.
She was also kneeling, and he pulled her arms back and threaded his own through the crooks of her elbows so she couldn’t touch him or move, while his hand raked her front. Her dress and panties were still on, and his underwear did nothing to obscure the erection pressing near her ass.
“I want you to touch me,” she whispered in a tentative voice. “Will you take off my clothes?”
“Of course,” he said.
Slowly he removed her dress, pausing to reach around and stroke her breasts. Then he eased her panties over her hips, but only partway, so the fabric strained around her thighs. He took a fistful of her hair and turned her head so that his lips were near his ear.
“Tell me if you like this,” he whispered. From behind, his hand cupped her ass then stroked her lower. She felt one of his fingers inside of her.
She gasped. “I like that. A lot.”<
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“Good,” he murmured, taking his other hand out of her hair. “And how about if I do this?”
He gently folded her forward so she was on all fours and then reached around and slid his finger into her wetness, over and around her clit. The sensation of his fingers working her with a slow rhythm in both places made her cry out softly from the intensity. She urged her hips back into his hands and rocked.
“Oh, Luca,” she whispered.
The thunderstorm was everywhere now, loud and insistent. She wasn’t sure if the electricity in the air was from the atmosphere or them. Luca whispered something in Italian then switched languages.
“You’re so wet.”
His voice was hoarse, and she arched her back, wanting more. She felt damp and creamy everywhere. For a chilling second she thought of James and how he’d once told her that she was too slippery.
“Am I too wet?” she asked, feeling self-conscious.
Luca stopped and pulled her up. Spun her around to face him and planted a long kiss on her lips. “Sky. No. Don’t ever ask that again. You will never be too wet for me.”
“Will you keep touching me?”
“I think the better question is, will I be able to stop touching you?”
She slid her panties off her legs and lay down, opening her legs. A low growl emerged from Luca’s throat and he lay atop her, his skin hot and demanding. He ground his hips into hers and the only thing separating them was the fabric of his underwear. She fed on his lips, sucked on his tongue. And yet, she wanted to wait, wanted to prolong penetration.
“Lie next to me and touch me again,” she whispered.
He did, trailing his nose down her cheek and pressing his open mouth into her jaw as his hand went in between her legs. His fingers glided through her slick heat and sweat bloomed at her hairline. Two of his fingers entered her, and she whimpered with pleasure at the delicious, straining feeling. She spread her legs even wider in response, and he shuddered a breath in her ear.
Lightning crackled, illuminating the room and their bodies with brief white flashes. The rain came, pounding loud and insistent against the roof of the mansion.