I swear he’s got a smile under those lips, that is, if he ever did that outside of trying to charm the panties off a girl. He’s pleased with his selection, it seems, as he takes a few quick sips himself.
“Did you learn anything?” I question him about his outing as I go to rest my eyes for an hour or so.
“Not really, but I’m glad we came. Let’s hit the slopes,” he announces as he refills our glasses before he sets the bottle on the small table next to us.
“You think I want to hang out with you?” I bait him.
“Maybe. If not, I can find plenty of other women to go with.”
He doesn’t skip a beat and it annoys me that he’s so quick with a comeback.
As just like that —a switch flips and he goes from being nice to an asshole.
“Really? You go to all the trouble to bring me up here and now you’re going to ditch me? I say bullshit.”
He breaches the space between us. He looms over me, and he’s so close I hear him breathing. Does he want to strike me? Kiss me?
The pregnant pause in the air holds.
“For being a sheltered woman, you sure have a mouth on you.” His eyes burn into mine, like a judgement. “But I wouldn’t expect anything less. Italian women know better than to talk back to their men.”
I stare back, “I learned from the best Italian I know,” and the anger I express only succeeds to turn his eyes into smoldering flames of desire causing me to melt under the intensely. His arm sweeps around me in a flourish, pulling me into him so hard I’m ingrained in his chest.
I can’t believe his perfect dress shirt is the proud owner of wrinkles as it crumples under my weight and the compression of me being squeezed into him as if he’s saving my life from a fall to my death.
I lose my breath as this all transpires so quickly I struggle to recover air. His lips are crushing mine under his warm ones. He’s searching and pushing my mouth open as his tongue slides in.
I give in, parting my lips for him and slip my hand that’s still holding the wine to the side as my other arm wraps around his neck. He grabs my wine glass, and takes a sip before kissing me. Fluid is in my mouth. He’s slowly releasing wine into my mouth with the long kiss and I about cum in my lacy underwear.
Damn him for always being so fucking hot. I swallow the wine as it’s fed to me, suckling his tongue with it. It warms my throat, then my belly. My pussy is wet and ready.
“You have too many clothes on,” he comments, and he takes more wine, feeds it to me again and I suck on his tongue again until his mouth is empty.
His glass meets a surface and makes atingas he slides a hand under my sweater and cups my breast, he works his way up to my bra and his thumb gently rubs over my nipple. His other hand unclasps my bra and it’s gone.
I part my lips as my breathing is faster and my heart pounds in my chest. I lean into him as I yearn for more pressure on my nipple.
As if he read my mind, his front finger and thumb pinch my nipple. It surprises me and sets off a chain reaction. The titillating excitement travels to my lower abdomen and ends between my legs.
“You like that?”
“Yes.” I wither against him. Why can’t I stand? I had one glass of wine.
He strips off his shirt and I pull off my sweater. His lips attach to my other nipple where he sucks gently and after a few seconds, he sucks harder.
The hard suck tugs at my pussy and my pants drop so I undo his and his hand snakes up and under my lacy panties. His warm fingers enter me and it excites me more, provides some relief, but I yearn for more.
Instinctively I lean into his strong fingers as he gently massages my clit and the friction is sweet, so sweet I get carried away. I’m climbing higher and higher and then he stops.
WTF?
He picks me up and drops me on the bed a bit rough. His naked body is now over me. I reach up and run my fingers through his black hair that’s combed back and I tug as I’m wrapped up and over excited.
But he seems to like it as he moans and suckles my neck and runs his kisses down my chest as one hand supports him and the fingertips on the other glide over my skin, so soft, and light it’s sort of a tickle.
I squirm under the intensity of his eyes and the pleasure spreading through my body. His lips trail down my body, over my abdomen and my muscles contract. I'm not trusting of his method, but I have no reason to not trust him.
It pings in my mind; do I trust him? What are we about to do? But the fuzziness blurs into hormones that feed the chemistry between us. The chemistry that tells me when he’s in the room before he arrives. The way our eyes meet across the counter at the shop, drinking an espresso and our eyes don’t look at anyone else in the room.