She could grow addicted to it.
She lost herself to the rhythm, sucking and jacking him. Her hunger amplified. Again, her lips pushed at the limit, and the taste of strawberries spread on her tongue. For the rest of her life, she’d associate that taste with pure, rabid sexual hunger.
Vanni tightened his hold on her head, and for a split second, she felt him pushing, goading her on, encouraging her to swallow more of him.
Then he was pulling back. She cried out sharply when his cock popped out of her mouth. He put his hand on her wrist and jerked it off his cock. His cock fell to his taut belly, bouncing slightly.
“Sit up,” Vanni grated out. She blinked, taking a few seconds to comprehend what he’d said, she was so aroused. “Scoot your knees closer to me. Now rise up on your knees.”
She lifted her bottom off her lower legs and knelt before him, panting. His gaze lowered over her, scoring her face and breasts and belly. “Look at you,” he said, his nostrils flaring. “Your cheeks are bright red, and your breasts . . .”
He faded off, his mouth shaping into a snarl. He opened one hand along her left hip, his thumb stretching beneath the vibrator. “You liked it, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Emma gasped as he began to circle his thumb on her well-lubricated clit. Her buttocks clamped tight. She trembled. The soles of her feet began to burn. She was going to come.
“Tell me what you want,” she heard Vanni say as if through a long tunnel. She bit her lip. She was about
to explode. It felt so good.
“I want you to let me suck you again,” she moaned miserably.
“Jesus,” he hissed, putting the tip of the vibrator back against her clit “You’re so fucking sweet.” Then he was holding his cock up off his body, pushing her to him again. She took him into her mouth with a wild, yet single-minded focus, squeezing him with her lips, sucking him until her cheeks hollowed out, ravenous. He groaned gutturally. Had he turned up the vibrator? She wasn’t sure; all she knew was that the feeling of his cock swelling in her mouth was making her frenzied. Her head moved so fast, gobbling him forcefully, but it seemed like she ignited in slow motion.
Suddenly, climax hit her full force. She screamed onto his cock as her body shuddered. His fingers tightened in her hair, and he was jerking her off him. She continued to shake in orgasm, blinking her eyes open, disoriented. He pumped his cock, growling as he began to come. Semen jetted against her lips and she tasted him for the first time.
Ignoring his hold on her and the sting of her scalp, she leaned forward and took him into her mouth. His growl escalated to a roar as she sucked and he came on her tongue. He pulsed between her clamped lips, giving himself to her, and she craved—no, she cherished—every last drop.
* * *
A tense moment later, his fingers loosened in her hair. Emma released his cock from her mouth and fell forward slightly, her hot cheek falling above his hip bone. She still trembled from the onslaught of pleasure. She panted for air. His hand returned to the back of her head, his fingers rubbing her scalp. He shifted slightly and the vibrator stopped abruptly. She exhaled in relief. She hadn’t realized until that moment how tense the continued stimulation on her post-climactic sex was making her.
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
She lifted her head slowly, curious about the dazed, rough sound of his voice. Her eyes widened when she saw that he did, indeed, look a little undone, sprawling there on the pillows. He also looked indecently gorgeous.
“What?” she asked.
“You have a gift,” he said, glancing down drolly at his damp, still-firm cock where it rested on his belly.
A smile flickered across her lips. They were sore from squeezing him so hard, but she found the sensation a pleasant reminder of her eagerness in showing him her desire . . . of his lesson in liberating it.
“No,” she whispered, coming up on her knees and then lowering on top of him. She brushed her swollen lips against his mouth and felt him open his hand at her back. “You’re the one with the gift, Vanni. Thank you,” she murmured before he drew her closer to him with both hands, and kissed her in earnest.
After a delicious moment, she came up for air and settled her cheek on his chest, panting slightly. A feeling of lassitude and comfort overcame her when he rubbed her scalp with his fingers.
“Tell me more about your villa in France. La Mer,” she said, her tongue lingering over the exotic-sounding words.
“You’re going to see it soon.”
“I know. But I want to hear you talk about it. What does it look like?” she prodded languorously.
“It’s old,” he began after a moment, sounding thoughtful. “La Mer was built in the late seventeen hundreds, but it’s been renovated and added to many times. It’s built in the Italian Renaissance style. I think there are secrets to it even Adrian and I—who explored it with single-minded intent for treasure and secret passageways as a kid—never discovered. But I like it that way . . . with a few secrets intact,” he murmured, and she heard that faraway note in his voice, that wistful one that she’d seen on his face when he spoke of La Mer earlier. “It sits on the edge of cliffs, perched hundreds of feet above the sea. At night, with the windows open wide, you can hear the waves hitting the shore. It gets pitch-dark there, and it’s always peaceful . . .”
Emma felt her eyelids growing heavy, listening to him talk. She fought sleep desperately, though, prizing the rare, wonderful experience of Vanni Montand sounding relaxed and content.
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