He smiled as his teeth found the edge of elastic bordering her lace thong. “How do you explain us then?”
“You didn’t waste time. You went straight for my mind.”
He nuzzled her between her thighs, and then traced her with the tip of his tongue. He heard her broken cry as his tongue followed the cleft, the soft shape of her, and then between, where she was so very responsive.
She cried out again when he pushed the scrap of lace aside and touched her with his fingers and tongue, parting her to taste her and tease her. She was tense, nerves wound tight, and trembling as he licked her, slow long flicks of his tongue that had her gasping for air.
Her hips ground up, and he pressed a hand to her tummy, holding her down, holding her still, while he flicked and sucked on her delicate nub, the tender hood hard against his tongue.
“Gio,” she choked, her hand reaching for his shoulder, then sliding into his hair.
He could feel her tighten beneath him, feel her struggling, not wanting to lose control. He eased a finger inside of her, caressing that spot inside her warm slick body and sucked again on her, before gently sliding in another finger, working the inside of her while he matched the pressure on her clit.
She cried out his name as she climaxed, her body tensing, convulsing with pleasure. He held her after, her supple body so warm in his arms.
“That,” she whispered, awed, “was amazing.”
“Good. But that, bella, was just the beginning.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
RACHEL DIDN’T REMEMBER falling asleep, but when she woke up, she was astonished to discover she was still in Gio’s bed, in his room. Morning light streamed through a break in the curtains, streaking the carpeted floor. Memories of last night returned in a rush.
Rachel sat up swiftly, covers clutched to her breasts.
Giovanni reached out and drew her back down. “Where are you going?” he asked, sleepily.
“Michael,” she protested, even as Gio pulled her toward him.
“He’s with Mrs. Fabbro, remember? I am sure they will be fine for a little bit longer.” Gio rolled her onto her back and kissed her, his body hard and warm.
She shivered with pleasure, feeling the thickness of his erection press between her thighs. He’d made her climax twice last night and yet he hadn’t taken her virginity. She was ready to lose it. Ready to be his.
“Make love to me,” she said, locking her hands around his neck.
“Don’t you want to wait for our wedding night?”
“No. It puts too much pressure on the evening. I already feel so much pressure.”
“Why?”
She wasn’t sure how to explain it to him, but her inexperience was an issue, at least for her. She wanted him, and was glad he would be her first, and yet she was also so very nervous and worried that she’d disappoint him. It was one thing to be a virgin at eighteen, but another at twenty-eight. “What if I’m not any good?” she asked, her voice cracking ever so slightly. “What if you’re sorry—”
“You worry far too much about everything. Stop thinking,” he said. “Stop analyzing. It’s time to live.”
“I agree. I want to live. Make love to me. Now. Please.”
He rolled her over, so that he was now on the bottom, and she was lying naked on top of him. His hand swept down her bare back, over her hip to tease her bottom. He caressed her like that, once, twice, his touch so light on the curve of her backside, and each brush made more of her nerve endings come to life.
He slid his hands over the curve of her butt again, finding the sensitive crease where her cheeks ended and her leg began. He played with the crease and then the tops of her thighs, stroking out and then in again, melting her from the inside out.
“Please, Gio,” she whispered, pressing her pelvis to his, her belly knotting, her womb feeling so empty it made her frantic. She’d waited so long for this, and she was ready. She didn’t need more foreplay. She didn’t need him to be gentle. She wanted to be taken.
His hand slipped between her thighs, finding her slit. She was hot and wet, and his fingers slipped easily into her, stroking, teasing, before sliding out to spread the moisture over her nub, making her buck.
“Gio,” she gritted, arching up as he caressed her again.
He rolled her back over, his knees parting her thighs, holding her open for him. She looked up into his hard, handsome face as she felt the head of his shaft at her entrance. He was smooth and warm and she rubbed herself against him, enjoying the way he felt, and how deliciously sensitive she was with him against her.