My hands gripped his arms where they held him up on either side of me. I saw the tendons and muscles vibrating with his efforts at holding back. Clearly I wasn’t the only one with pounding in mind.
Finally, I felt my body give way, and the burn changed from unpleasant to acceptable, bordering on good.
“Go. Yes,” I stammered. “Move.”
Lio’s lips crushed mine as his body surged forward. He caught my yelp in the kiss and began to explore my mouth as thoroughly as he fucked me. I felt the delicious sensation of his cock sliding past my prostate, and the sounds that came out of me were incoherent—babbling, begging, whimpering.
Lio had his own incoherent sounds between kisses. I caught expletives and words like tight, perfect, hot, need you. His mouth moved to my ear as he began to urge me toward my own climax. His hand moved between us to grab my cock, and my eyes, yet again, rolled back in my head. It was a sensual overload of the very best kind.
“Not gonna la—” I began.
“Come for me, Felix,” he groaned into my ear. “Want to see you let go, baby.”
That low grumble was all I needed to push me over the edge. My entire body contracted and arched into him—my head went back on the pillow, and my mouth dropped open in a guttural cry. I felt my ass clench around Lio, and his hands tightened under my shoulder blades in response. My brain stuttered and shut down for a moment while the best vibrations of pleasure I’d ever felt washed through my entire body.
“Holy fuck, Felix. Ahh.” Lio exploded into me, clutching me even tighter as he came. I noticed a slick sheen of sweat on the skin of his back when my hands moved up and down his spine. It was several moments before he managed to move off me to dispose of the condom. When he rolled back against my side, I peered over at him.
His eyes studied me like I was an unexpected data point in a predictable experiment. My hand reached out to sift through his hair, causing his eyes to soften.
“That was… that was…” I tried, unable to put words to what I was feeling.
“Yeah. It was.”
Lio ran a thumb along my cheekbone and across my lower lip. I felt the heavy weight of his leg across mine and enjoyed the masculine roughness of his leg hair on my skin.
He was propped up on an elbow, gazing at me, and I couldn’t take my eyes away. We just stared at each other for a while as our breathing leveled out and our skin returned from nuclear levels of heat.
All the while, Lio’s thumb lightly traced my features, my hairline, the angle of my jaw, the cords of my throat, the curve of my collarbone. Goose bumps prickled over every inch of my skin.
Finally, Lio lowered his mouth onto mine, and I slid my arms around his neck, pulling him down to lie on top of me. We kissed lazily for a while, exploring each other’s mouths with gentle lips and tongues. Hands wandered down each other’s sides and across curved shoulders and muscled thighs.
It was the single most intimate and erotic experience I’d ever had.
And I couldn’t help but wonder if it would remain so for the rest of my life.
Chapter 15
Lio
Even though we eventually got up to find something to eat for dinner, the atmosphere of quiet intimacy surrounded the two of us. I held Felix’s hand while we walked to the kitchen and only leaned over to distract him with kisses when I thought he’d catch sight of Jon trailing behind us from the carriage house to the main building.
I’d insisted on Mari taking the night off to spend it with Bert, and she’d promised to leave the fixings for a homemade pizza behind in one of the refrigerators. She knew how much I loved making a pizza in the brick oven built into the main fireplace.
Sure enough, she’d left the fires going, and Felix was more than happy to help move some of the embers and hot logs up into the pizza oven. I arranged all of the ingredients on the huge wooden table in the center of the room and teased Felix about his taste in pizza toppings.
“I should make you an American pizza,” I joked. “Bet you’ve never had one quite like mine.”
He rolled his eyes at me. “Dude, I live on American pizza. And might I point out that, technically, all pizza is American?”
“Actually, that’s a myth. It started thousands of years ago in the Middle East.”
Felix lifted a brow at me. “Ah, know your pizza history, do you?”
“I’m extremely well educated in the area of history,” I admitted. “It’s one of my special skills.”
“Yet, you don’t know much about the stained glass here in the castle,” he teased. “How is that? I’d never even set foot on the island before and I have all kinds of theories about Gadleigh glass.”