by Nikki Ash
I straighten my back in defense. “What people?”
“Someone who doesn’t eat in front of someone they’re attracted to.”
I want to dismiss his assumption and level out his cockiness, but who am I trying to lie to? I’m very much attracted to him, but the nervousness… that’s new. I’m usually confident in my own skin, doing what I want, when I want. But right now, this isn’t me.
This electric current running through me isn’t familiar. I’ve never felt such a kaleidoscope of emotions for another person, in such a short period of time. Especially not for a man.
“Blake.” He says my name with such seriousness, it shocks me. “I’m Italian.”
“And?” I ask, confused.
“The act of consuming food is no joke,” he deadpans. “It’s our love language.”
There’s something about the genuineness in his voice that leaves me speechless. Like the presence of a love language between us isn’t odd, or uncharted territory.
Not wanting to argue, I nod softly and tug on his arm, leading him to the sectional sofa. Releasing my hold on him, I lower myself onto the couch and tuck my legs underneath my body. Fiddling with the material of my dress, I spend a little too much time trying to make sure I’m not exposing too much skin.
Noticing the room is a little too quiet, I look up to catch Rosario watching me.
“What?” I ask, self-consciously.
“Don’t cover up on my account.”
I roll my eyes at him, and he hands me a room service menu before casually lounging on the opposite side. “Is there anything particular you want to eat?”
My eyes gloss over the words staring back at me, my mind finding it very difficult to concentrate on one single thing.
My silence must clue Rosario in to my inability to make a decision, and he leans forward and plucks the menu out of my grasp.
“How about I pick for us?”
Without waiting for me to answer, he reaches behind him for the sleek hotel handset. He presses a button to connect him to the hotel kitchen and then raises it to his ear.
“Hi, could I please put in an order?” he asks the person on the other end of the line. “Yes, a twenty-minute wait time is perfect.” He places a hand over the speaker. “Are you allergic to anything?”
I shake my head at him, curious about what he’s going to pick.
He smirks at me and winks as he relays a long and extensive list of delicious sounding dishes, without even looking at the menu. It’s clear his eyes are bigger than his stomach, because as he continues to rattle off more items, my mind can’t comprehend how he thinks we’ll fit it all in.
There’s currently a flurry of butterflies causing a ruckus in my stomach. Being in Rosario’s presence and anticipating the way the night will unfold, I’ll be lucky to even manage a salad.
“So, is this how you woo all the girls?” I ask, a little more relaxed as he places the receiver back down, ending the call.
“With food?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s usually a solid start,” he answers smugly.
“You’re so sure of yourself.” The words are intended to be a slight insult, but the smile that involuntary spreads across my face reveals I have absolutely no problem with Rosario’s cockiness.
“You don’t seem to mind,” he says with a matching grin.
Shrugging, I feign nonchalance. “It’s somewhat impressive.”
“Oh, really?” He scoots across the length of the couch and grabs my feet, dragging my legs from under my body. “Just somewhat, huh?”
“I thought we were taking it slow,” I squeal.
“Your clothes are still on.” He drapes my legs over his and slips his hands underneath my dress, his fingertips ghosting along my skin. “That’s the definition of slow.”
My breath catches at his touch, a delicious shiver racing through me that doesn’t go unnoticed. “Tell me what you’d do,” I say boldly, completely disregarding the distance I was so eager to put between us only moments ago. “If we were moving at your pace, what would you do first?”
“Blake,” he warns. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Tell me,” I repeat, my voice thick with need.
His hands slide farther up my dress, gripping my hips. “You’re too far away from me for this conversation to happen.”
Effortlessly, he maneuvers me onto his lap, till my thighs are straddling his, and my dress is falling around us, hiding the way my lace-covered center grazes the length of the thickening bulge in his pants.
He hisses at the contact, and it takes everything in me not to shamelessly rub myself against him. Rosario’s eyes bore into mine, and he swallows hard, the effort of his self-control noticeable in all his features.
“If we weren’t going slow, you’d be sitting on me, naked” he starts, his voice low and gravelly. “I’d start by kissing you.” He raises a hand to my face, his palm on my cheek, his thumb tracing the shape of my mouth. “I would start off slow,” he teases. “Light, soft pecks. Over and over,” he continues. “Then I’d deepen the kiss. Slide my tongue between these beautiful, plush lips.”
I swallow hard, and his eyes drop to my neck. He brushes his knuckles down the column of my throat and across my collarbone while continuing with his verbal foreplay.
“I’d kiss every inch of your skin,” he tells me. “Down the valley of your tits.” His fingers dip in the exact place he’s just mentioned, and my skin pebbles in goose bumps. “Then I’d spend a decent amount of time licking your nipples.”
His gaze flicks back up to mine as he brings his hands to my covered breasts and cups them gently. His thumbs draw whisper-soft circles over my nipples, and even through the padded layers, I can feel them harden under his light touch.
Holding his stare, I exhale loudly while my body shamelessly shudders in arousal. My hips shift involuntarily, and I’m dragging myself along Rosario’s obvious erection, desperate for some kind of friction.
“You’re imagining it aren’t you,” he breathes, his eyes still locked on mine, his hands now finding purchase underneath my dress.
“I wouldn’t stop,” he admits, gripping my thighs. “My mouth would be all over you while my fingers… fuck.” My breathing quickens when his hands still at the apex of my thighs. Splayed against my heated skin, he feels so close, but just not close enough. “I’d drive you fucking crazy with my fingers, sliding them inside of you,” he says huskily.
His words are dipped in sex, and every part of me struggles to remain still and unaffected. The salacious smirk on Rosario’s face tells me he knows he’s got me right where he wants me. And there’s no one else to blame but myself. I said I wanted to take it slow, but when he threw the bait, there wasn’t any other option in my mind but to take it.
Who was I kidding? I needed to feel this man. Feel him soon. Feel his large, capable hands on me and in me.
“Do you want to know what comes next?” he asks, his fingers teasing the edge of my panties, his mouth now right by my ear. “Do you want to hear about how I would kiss my way down your stomach?” I feel the tip of his thumb gently slide up and down the fabric covering my center. “Do you want me to tell you about how I’d move down your body till my tongue met my fingers and I fuck your pussy with both?”
“Rio,” I pant, letting my head fall back in resignation and my body slowly rub against his, wanting more. “Please.”
The plea slips past my lips and past my remaining defenses. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this turned on.
A long time since I felt so wanted.
A long time since I felt so irresistible
A long time since I felt so alive.
“Please what, Blake?” he asks, leaning back and looking at me knowingly
“Fuck me,” I blurt out, my eyes stuck on his. “Please.”
His mouth descends on mine, dropping a punishing kiss before murmuring, “All you had to do was ask.”
We rise up off the couch, m
y legs wrapped around his waist, and his arms securing me close. We’re two steps in when there’s a quick knock on the door, followed by a muffled voice calling out, “Room service.”
“Fuck” he grits out. Still holding me in his arms, he changes direction and heads for the door.
“Oh my God, Rio, what are you doing?” I squeal as he swings the door open.
The waiter is a young man no older than twenty. His eyes widen as he takes us in; me holding on to this man like a monkey, our intentions very much evident.
“Uh, you ordered room service?” he questions, probably wondering why we ordered food if we had no plans to eat it.
“Yeah,” Rio confirms, stepping us out of the doorway. “Just leave it in the middle of the room.” The waiter pushes the large trolley past us, the mixed smell of hot, cooked food wafting behind and permeating the air.
He offers a soft nod as he heads back to the door.
“Shit,” I whisper into Rio’s ear. “He needs a tip.”
Not as quiet as I thought I was, the young man looks over his shoulder like he’s heard me. “It’s okay. You guys just get back to whatever it is you were doing.”
Embarrassed, I bury my head in the crook of Rio’s neck, desperate to hear the sound of the door closing behind the waiter. When the lock clicks, I chance looking back up at Rio and try to untangle myself from him, expecting to have lost him to the interruption, but his grip on me tightens; his eyes still with me. Still blazing with desire.
“You still want this, don’t you?”
There’s something reassuring about a man who takes the time to check in. About a man who can push his needs aside to make sure I’m okay. To make sure we’re still on the same page.
Moved by his gesture, I nod. Because I do want this. I don't care if it's fast or weird or unexplainable. I want to feel it.
All of it.
As soon as I give him my consent, he squeezes me to him and takes us both back to the bedroom. When we reach the edge of the bed, he raises his knee to the mattress, and as if I weigh nothing, deposits me gently in the middle.
Determined not to waste a single second, his hands leave my body and reach for the buttons on his shirt. My eyes zero in on his movements, the way he expertly undresses himself. And with each sliver of skin he exposes, the more I know I’ve made the right decision.
I want this man, and I’m not wasting any more time in my own head trying to tell myself otherwise.
Rising to my knees, I have the desperate urge to meet him halfway. Like I want to do my part, so we can get to the touching and kissing quicker.
Hooking a finger underneath the strap of my dress, I slide it off my shoulder, letting it fall down my arm. At the sound of the sharp intake of his breath, I do the same thing to the other side and raise my eyes to meet his.
He’s shirtless now, the extent of his strength as plain as day. He’s all dips and definition, and I want nothing more than to run my hands all over him. But surprisingly, it’s not his body that pushes me over the edge. No. It’s his eyes that make me want to take the leap. Brown pools of hunger and need encourage me. Goad me. Make me feel bold.
“Watch me,” I say, sliding the dress down my body. “Watch me strip for you.”
Chapter Four
Rosario
The tables are turned, her words more of a demand than a request, but it doesn’t matter because she couldn’t get me to look away even if she tried.
Standing in front of her, I’m at her mercy, my eyes taking in every expanse of skin she slowly gifts me. My eyes take in her lingerie, the second time still leaving me speechless.
Unable to restrain myself, I drag the heel of my palm up and down my stiff cock.
I ache at how undeniable her beauty is. I ache to touch her, to feel her. To get lost in a body that I know I’ll never forget for as long as I live.
Her gaze follows my hand, her eyes hungry, her tongue peeking out to lick her lips.
She likes it.
“You want to watch me now?” I ask.
“Let me,” she says, reaching for the belt buckle of my pants.
“Please do.” I cup one of her lace-covered breasts, running my thumb over the visible creamy swell. A loud groan leaves my mouth when she expertly slips her hand into my briefs and wraps her delicate fingers around my length.
Hooking a finger into the cup of the built-in bra, I tug at it, watching her bountiful breast spill out. Desperate to taste her, I lower my head to her nipple, capturing the stiff peak with my mouth, licking and sucking just as her hand begins to glide up and down my dick.
She lets out the softest whimper, and I mirror my actions on the other breast, wanting to be the reason for her every sound.
She continues to stroke me, her hands moving faster. “Slow it down, baby,” I murmur against her skin. “I have so much more I want to do to you before this ends.”
I reluctantly drag my mouth away from her breasts and move up her body. Trailing my tongue past her collarbone and up the length of her neck. When I finally press my lips to hers, it’s nothing like the soft, introductory-like kisses we’ve shared before.
This kiss lacks the reservation from earlier. Blake’s no longer shy, and I’m no longer scared my eagerness will chase her away. Our tongues move to a familiar rhythm, leading and following. Giving and taking. Talking and listening. I kiss her with worry and want, and she kisses me back with reassurance and desperation.
Raising a knee to the mattress, I wrap an arm around her and lower us both gently till her back hits the bed and my body is hovering over hers.
Her hands move from my pants and up my torso. She rests them on my shoulders before moving down my arms and back up again, her touch reverent and exploratory.
I take my time kissing her while she takes her time touching me, neither of us wanting to rush this moment. We’re in sync, and the pounding beat of my heart tells me it’s more than just our bodies.
Together, we deepen the kiss, and her legs wrap around my waist, wanting me closer. Using all my strength, I scoop her into my arms and move us farther up the bed. I lower myself onto her, her breasts pressing into my chest, my hard cock straining against her center.
Slowly, I grind into her, a delicious torture that has me wanting to devour and savor her all at the same time. The fear of never having this with her again taunts my sub-conscious, driving my every touch, my every kiss.
I move my lips down the length of her body, pressing open-mouthed kisses along every inch of her skin. Just like I promised, I lick down the valley of her breasts while my thumbs strum her nipples. My tongue joins my fingers, and she moans softly, writhing beneath me. Having her unravel at my touch, mixed with the anticipation of what’s to come, hardens my cock to an unbearable stretch. I can’t wait to be inside her.
“I want you,” she pants, reading my mind, and those three words send me into overdrive.
She wants this.
She wants me.
And I need her.
I need this, and I’m desperate to sear every moment I have with her into my memory, because while I know I feel something more, I also know that I have a life outside these walls that doesn’t care about lust and chemistry and connection.
Right now, we’re two people with complicated pasts, who owe one another nothing more than this moment. It’s a dangerous combination that urges me to take and take and take, because there’s a very good chance the world will get in our way of ever doing this again.
My hands eagerly find the rest of her corset and drag it down her body, hungrily watching her pussy come into full view.
My breath catches at the sight of her naked, splayed out before me, and I take a long moment just to stare at her.
“You’re goddamned beautiful,” I rasp.
I watch her chest rise and fall, followed by a pink blush that spreads beautifully across her body, leading my eyes to her slick center. From her eyes, to her skin, to the way she breathes, her arousal is evident, and my dick thro
bs knowing that it’s all for me.
I tear my gaze away from her pussy and meet her lust-filled eyes.
“Touch yourself,” I demand gruffly.
A flicker of hesitation crosses her face before she slowly slides her hand down her body and presses two fingers to her clit. Moaning, she gracefully arches off the bed as she caresses herself.
It’s heady.
Being this close and giving her all the power.
Watching her inhibitions slip away as she takes what she wants and gives in to the pleasure. Every part of me knows this isn’t something she does all the time. She wasn’t one to indulge. She wasn’t one to let loose. But for me, she was doing it, and I was staring at her, torn between wanting to watch her fall over the edge, or for me to be the one to lead her there.
Unable to keep my distance, I spread her legs farther apart and kiss my way up one of her thighs. Her body shudders the closer I get to where she’s touching, but instead of taking what I want, I turn my focus to her other thigh and drag my tongue over the expanse of her pebbled skin.
When I reach the dip in her leg, her movements slow down. I look up at her and she’s eyeing me curiously.
“What?” I ask innocently.
Wordlessly, I move her hand and slip her wet, slick fingers between my lips. She tastes like eagerness and excitement, and I want to drown in it. She drags her two digits from my mouth, and I lower my head to her pussy before she gets a chance to touch herself again.
A surprised gasp leaves her mouth when my tongue connects with her clit, her body coiling with anticipation at the contact. Wanting nothing more than to drive her wild, I let myself get lost in the taste and feel of her against my mouth.
Hands glide through my hair, gripping and pulling at the strands, as her hips buck up against me. Brazenly, she begs, “Please, Rio, I need to come.”
“Not yet, baby,” I taunt as I slowly push a finger into her tight heat. “I’m not done yet.”
Like an addict, my mouth returns to her pussy, needing more, sucking and licking the swollen nub. Adding another digit, I flick my wrist and shamelessly pump into her, ready for her to explode all over my fingers and tongue.