by T L Swan
The men get out of their cars and pretend not to look at me, although I can feel their assessing eyes.
“This way,” Rico says, void of emotion. I follow him into the elevator and the door shuts behind us. He instantly grabs my hand and smiles softly.
There he is…
“I don’t like you not touching me in public.”
“I don’t like not touching you.”
He leans in takes my face in both hands, and he kisses me. It’s soft, with just the right amount of suction. My feet nearly lift off the floor. He kisses me again as he begins to walk me backwards, and then the ping notifies us of our arrival.
The doors open up and Rico pulls me out. I look around in wonder. The elevator doors opened up directly into his apartment.
It’s huge with a mezzanine level upstairs. City lights twinkle through the expansive glass wall, and there’s a pool outside on the private terrace.
“This is your house?” I whisper, wide-eyed.
“Yes.” He puts his hands into his pockets, giving me time to look around and get my bearings. “Do you want the tour?”
I nod, suddenly too nervous to speak.
He pulls me through the foyer and down a few dark timber stairs.
“Living area,” he says. I look around in wonder. There are navy and chocolate slouchy leather couches, a huge bluestone fireplace, and beautiful colored artwork. We walk through double timber doors.
“Dining area.” A beautiful pale wood dining table that seats twelve sits in the middle of the room. “Kitchen.” The kitchen doesn’t even look like a kitchen. It looks like an exotic restaurant that you would see in a travel brochure. Chunky metal light fittings hang from the ceiling, and large benches take up the floor space.
“Did you pick all the furnishings?” I ask him.
He smiles softly as if imagining what I must see through my eyes. “Yes.”
What are you doing here, Olivia? This is out of your league.
His eyes come to mine. “Do you want to see my bedroom?”
Butterflies flutter deep in my stomach. “I don’t know, do I?”
He steps forward and takes my face in his hands. “Your body told me earlier that you do.”
“You shouldn’t listen to her. She’s…” I stop talking, distracted by his big lips that are suddenly on mine.
“She’s… what?” he breathes.
“She’s good to go and trying to get me into trouble.”
He chuckles, and it’s deep and raspy. “I like that about her.
“She doesn’t know what’s good for her.”
His eyes dance with mischief. “I have no doubt about that.” He kisses me again. “Although, I’m sure she knows what does feel good.” He gently bites my bottom lip and stretches it out. My sex contracts at the feel of his teeth on my skin.
He pulls back and looks at me. His eyes are dark, and he licks his lips in anticipation. “My bedroom is this way, Olivia.”
He takes my hand and leads me up an expansive hall. I’m sure I’m supposed to be taking in my surroundings right now, but I can’t concentrate on anything other than the beautiful man holding my hand.
The Devil himself, leading me to his den.
My heart is beating so fast that I have to concentrate on my breathing. I don’t want it to sound like I’m running a marathon, although it totally feels like I am.
His bedroom is big, modern, and minimalistic. The walls are a dark gray, almost navy blue. The linen on the huge bed is white, and white chunky sofas surround another bluestone fireplace. The artwork on the walls is all monochrome photography. It really is something else.
“Wow. You have impeccable taste.”
He steps forward, bringing us closer. “I do.” He kisses me with such passion that I can’t keep my eyes open.
Damn this man and his magic tongue.
Our kiss turns frantic, and my hands go to his hair, while his hands go to my behind. Suddenly, he lets me have it both barrels. We slam up against the wall as we lose control. He turns me away from him and unzips my dress. It falls to the floor and I stand before him in a black strapless bra and lace panties.
His eyes drop as he drinks me in. When they rise to meet mine again, they’re blazing with fire.
He wants me. Every inch of him wants me.
I can feel it.
He undoes my bra and tosses it to the side. My large breasts fall free. He slides my panties down my legs. His chin rises, and he hisses in appreciation. His dark eyes burn holes in my skin.
“Hmm, there she is.” His voice is deep and guttural—a hushed whisper.
My sex begins to throb. “Take it off.”
He holds his hands out. “If you want me, you come and get it.”
Suddenly I’m frantic. I tear his T-shirt off over his head and I throw it. I’m met with the sight of his broad chest, scattered with dark hair, and his muscular shoulders, too. His skin is a beautiful honey shade of tan.
Oh, God, yes. Spurred on by the sight of him, I unfasten the zipper on his jeans and push then down—his boxers, too.
His stomach is washboard hard, his legs muscular and strong, and his black pubic hair is short and well-kept. His large cock hangs heavily between his legs.
Thick veins run down the engorged length of it. Rico is rock hard and ready to go. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
Good grief, this man is one hell of a specimen.
He stands still, his hands by his side as my eyes roam over his skin.
My chest rises and falls as I struggle for air. I place my hand on his chest, and then retract it quickly and close my fist as if he burned me.
Maybe he did.
This man is white hot. The kind you read about in romance books… the kind that breaks your heart.
“Rici.” My eyes drop lower. “You’ve become even more beautiful,” I whisper to myself. “How is this even possible?”
His eyes hold mine and if I’m not mistaken, he seems nervous. Is he waiting for my approval?
“Baby,” I whisper as I step forward. I rise up on my toes and softly kiss him. His hand curls around my waist. “Show me,” I breathe against his lips. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”
His eyes close and he moans against my lips as our kiss reaches a new level.
As if that’s the green light he’s been waiting for, his hands grab my behind with force, and he grinds his cock against my pubic bone and walks me back to the bed. His dark eyes hold mine as he lies me down and arranges me exactly how he wants me.
On my back with my legs wide open.
His hand moves to his cock, and he strokes it slowly as he looks down at me.
Pre-ejaculate drips from the end of his cock, and my back arches as I begin to lose control.
This is ridiculous. He’s hardly touched me, and I swear, I could orgasm at any moment by just watching him pull himself. His grip on his cock tightens, and he gives himself three hard jerks, and then drops his head and kisses my inner thigh with an open mouth. I buckle beneath him.
The sensation is too much.
He holds my legs open and kisses his way up to my sex.
I stare at the ceiling as I gasp for breath, my rib cage rising as my lungs search for air. Oh God.
He spreads me apart with his fingers and hisses in approval. Then his thick tongue swipes through my flesh with force.
Holy fucking fuck…
He begins to suck, his eyes closed, and I begin to shudder. Oh no.
Not this again.
He reaches up and kneads my breast. “Watch,” he commands.
I lean up onto my elbows and watch him suck and lick on my most private parts.
His eyes are dark, his tongue a perfect pink, and I watch the muscles in his jaw contract as he eats me.
I’ve died and gone to Italian Heaven.
I know now why the men I’ve been with over the last two years couldn’t get over the line with me. They were all shit—very poor substitutes for the real thing.
Nobody came close to giving me the high of Rici Ferrara. He’s a designer drug all of his own.
The best kind of high.
He bites my clitoris, and I buck off the bed as a freight train of an orgasm tears through me. I cry out in ecstasy and grab the back of his head.
Both his hands are splayed on my stomach as he holds me down, but his tongue doesn’t stop. He hasn’t finished. He wants to suck every last drop of the orgasm from my body.
My legs are quivering, and I try to close them. I’m too sensitive. “Rici,” I breathe. “Now. Give it to me… please.”
He stands, takes a condom from the drawer, and I watch as he rolls it on.
Thump, thump, thump, goes my heart as he climbs over me.
“Olivia. My beautiful Olivia.” His lips take mine and his tongue moves in a slow, erotic dance. I can taste my own arousal in his mouth.
My heart freefalls from my chest.
No. No. No.
This is wrong. This isn’t supposed to feel special. This is supposed to be brutal fucking. A getting him out of my system kind of fuck.
With his lips pressed tenderly against mine, he lifts my left leg and puts it around his waist.
“Open for me, baby.”
I do as I’m told, and in one strong movement, he pushes forward and slides in deep. My mouth falls open as his possession takes over. I exhale slowly.
“You all right?” his deep, hushed voice whispers.
“Yeah.” I close my eyes to try and deal with him—to block him out—because, hell, this man doesn’t just make love. He fucks my soul.
He pulls out slowly and then pushes back in. I wince at the size of him. What the hell kind of man is he?
He clenches his jaw. Dark eyes hold mine, and I know he’s clinging onto his control.
His breath is quivering and his tongue is sliding between my lips, begging for me to let him in fully.
What a beautiful, virile beast he is.
Sexual perfection has a name, and it’s Enrico Ferrara. The king of fucking.
With his knees wide on the bed, he pulls out again. This time with purpose, he slams back in, and I cry out.
“Ahh!”
I cling to his broad shoulders and feel the muscles contract beneath my hands.
“Shh,” he whispers, realizing he has to slow it down or he’ll hurt me. “Okay, okay. Shh,” he breathes. He gently begins to ride me, knowing that we have to work up to what he wants.
And like the perfect student, my body loosens with every pump as he holds himself up on his elbows.
“Olivia,” he whispers darkly as he watches my lips. “Fuck me, Olivia. Let me in.”
My eyes roll back in my head as I lift my legs up on either side of his body.
God, yes.
Fuck me, all right.
We keep going, gradually getting harder, and the bed begins to rock. My hands relax enough to roam over his back and up to the back of his head.
His beautiful face stares down at me, and I know that this is it. This is what sex is supposed to be like. I’m positive that when it was invented by whoever it was back then at the dawn of time, it was with this man in mind.
He lifts my leg a little higher to his shoulders and his eyes flash black. He’s on the edge of sanity.
“Go,” I pant. “Give it to me.” I put my hands onto his behind and pull him in deeper.
He lets out a guttural moan, straightens his arms, and then slams me hard. My entire body jerks up the bed, and I can feel every vein on his thick cock.
Oh shit…
The sound of our damp skin slapping together bounces off the walls, and the heat from his thrusts burns me from the inside out. I begin to thrash beneath him. I can’t hold it as I cry out. My orgasm tips him over the edge, and he holds himself deep. I feel the telling jerk of his cock deep inside my body.
He slams into me three more times—each time deeper than the last as he tries to empty himself completely.
And then he kisses me with such tenderness, and it’s so foreign to the way he just was with me.
Enrico Ferrara fucks with his body but he kisses with his whole heart.
I can feel it. Every cell in my body tells me that he is as into this as I am.
That this is something more than it’s supposed to be.
“Sei davvero fottutamente perfetta,” he whispers. Translation: you are so fucking perfect.
I don’t know what he said but it was in reverence—words of worship.
I smile up at him as he pulls out and lies over me. He carefully drops his lips to my clavicle and trails kisses up my collarbone.
“Olivia,” he murmurs against my skin.
I feel his dick reharden against my thigh, and I smile up at the ceiling as I bring my arm around his broad shoulders.
I get the feeling that the night is just beginning, and that he is nowhere near done with me.
We kiss again, and I am done.
Perfection.
14
Olivia
I wake to lips brushing my shoulder blade. It’s dark, but my bladder is telling me it’s morning. I roll over to find Rico leaning up on his elbow.
“Good morning, bella.” He smiles sexily.
Oh God. Shit.
“Hi.”
What the hell happened last night? One minute I vowed to hate Enrico Ferrara for all of eternity. Not seven minutes later I’m getting finger fucked in an office.
I think we said all of twenty words together before we were at it like rabbits. Horror dawns. For fuck’s sake.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I whisper as I climb out of bed and go into the en-suite bathroom. I lock the door, sit down and put my head in my hands. I didn’t even make him work for it. I’m weak, a pushover.
What am I doing here?
My heart is beating fast and I’m filled with regret. I need to get out of here, pronto.
I wash my hands and stare at my messed-up reflection. My blonde hair is wild, my makeup is smudged all over my face and don’t even talk to me about how much I smell like sex.
Like him.
How did this happen? I mean, I was fine… and then he sucked his fingers and the sky turned red until I couldn’t see anymore. No horny woman should ever have to watch that while he’s giving her his best come fuck me look. It’s unnatural. It’s like a go button or something. It should come with a warning. Do not go beyond this point…sure as hell fucking follows.
I wash my face and run my hands through my hair. I look around and borrow his toothpaste to brush my teeth.
I really need a shower, but damn, I just want to get out of here. I don’t want to walk back in there naked. I grab his robe from a hook on the back of the door and I throw it on.
Here goes. I’ve always heard about this, although it’s much worse in reality.
The walk of shame.
I open the door in a rush and find Rico leaning up on his elbow. His dark, tanned skin is on display, and his top leg is bent at the knee, displaying the most beautiful thick thigh muscle I’ve ever seen. The white sheets are pooled around his groin, although the tip of his cock is peeking out up against his stomach.
Hard again.
Fuck.
His eyes hold mine as I nervously sit down on the side of the bed.
“Come here, bella.” He taps the space beside him.
“Um.” I feel the blood drain from my face. I pause as I try to think of a lie. “I have to go. I might grab a cab.”
“What?” He frowns.
I shrug. “I’m really busy today.”
His chin rises. “You’re really busy today?”
“Uh-huh.”
His eyes hold mine. “Doing what?”
“Stuff.” Stop talking. Stop talking now.
“What’s your problem?” He sits up slowly.
“Nothing, I just have to go.” I scoop my dress and underwear up from the floor and go back into the bathroom. I’m not fighting with him here in his house. He
’ll just somehow talk me onto my back again. It’s obvious I have zero willpower where he’s concerned. He has leg opening superpowers.
I quickly get dressed back into my whore bag dress. This thing is going in the bin. How do people do this on the regular? It’s appalling.
I walk back out into the bedroom to find him zipping up his jeans. “I’ll drive you.”
“No, it’s fine.” I slip on my black high heels.
He glares at me. “Don’t piss me off, Olivia.”
What?
My hackles rise. “Fine. Drive me home, you control freak.”
With another dirty look, he throws on a T-shirt. I follow him out of the bedroom and into the apartment. All the windows are open, and I quickly glance around the beautiful pool and its surroundings. Well, it was nice almost swimming in you.
We get into the lift. He bangs the button hard and stares straight ahead.
Animosity is oozing out of his every pore. God, this is awkward.
I twist my fingers in front of me as I watch the dial. The doors open into the underground parking lot, and he storms out. I follow him over to a black sports car. I see the Ferrari symbol and I inwardly cringe. He drives a Ferrari. Of course, he does. I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.
He opens the door abruptly for me despite his anger. I climb in and he slams the door hard before he walks around and gets in to start the car with a large rev of the engine.
I glance over at him. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.
He tears out of the parking lot at full speed and I hang on for dear life. Oh hell, get off the road, we’re all going to die.
“Slow down!” I cry.
He pushes in the code of the security gates, and the door slowly rises up.
He stares straight ahead. I can see his jaw ticking as he clenches his teeth together.
Oh fuck.
The gates rise, and he screeches out onto the road at full speed.
“What is your fucking problem?” he snaps as his furious eyes flick to me.
“Watch the road!” I screech. He changes gears fast, overtaking two cars. I cling onto the dashboard for dear life. “You’re the problem,” I cry as I watch the oncoming traffic zoom by. “You treat me like crap, don’t call me for two whole years, and then turn up in a nightclub. I go home with you like you’re a fucking rock star. I’m disgusted with myself.”
