Page 17

He groans low in his throat, like he loves how I taste, how I sound. And when he hums against my clit, that vibration makes my entire body seize.

His hand clamps down on my thigh, spreading me even wider as I arch into his mouth, chasing more, needing more.

“That’s it,” he says, his lips brushing my slick skin. “Let go, Chiara. Come for me.”

Chiara. The name shouldn’t make my stomach tighten like this. It shouldn’t feel like a spark instead of a sting. But I’m too far gone to care. Too close.

He thrusts his fingers deeper, tongue flattening hard over my clit, and that’s it.

I shatter.

“Fuck, fuck—” I cry out, legs shaking violently as the orgasm slams into me like a freight train. I come so fucking hard, gasping like I’ve been drowning—and he’s the goddamn oxygen. My body shudders, thighs tightening around his head as I cry out, rocking against his mouth, lost in the wave of it.

But he doesn’t stop. He devours me, tongue flicking, fingers pounding until I’m crying, twitching, and babbling nonsense.

Only when I’m spent and shaking does he finally pull back, his mouth wet with me. He looks up like he just claimed something that was always his.

“You taste like fucking heaven,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “You’re a fucking dream between your legs, you know that?”

He crawls up my body, grabs my jaw, and kisses me deep—tongue plunging into my mouth like he’s claiming it, letting me taste myself on him.

And I moan into it, because fuck… nothing has ever felt this dirty.

Or this good.

I reach between us, fumbling with his belt, desperate to feel him. He doesn’t hesitate—shoving his pants and boxers down in one motion, and his cock springs free. My eyes widen at the sight of it—harder than I thought it would be.

He puts a finger under my chin, tilting my face up until our eyes meet.

“See what you do to me?” he asks, and then his eyes lower to his cock. My breath hitches at the sound of his voice, the confidence in it, the possessiveness of his touch.

My fingers curl around his cock, and I drag my hand down the thick length—once, then again—slow, deliberate, making him grunt low in my ear.

His hips jerk into my touch, his breath hot on my skin. “Fuck, Chiara,” he groans, and I shiver at the sound of my sister’s name again, but I don’t stop. I move up and down, flick my fingerover the sensitive skin of his head, and he lurches toward me, as though he’s a beast and I’m for his taking. The next thing I know, I feel a wetness in my fingers and he reaches down and stills my movement with a firm grip on my wrist, wrenching my hand away from his cock.

His eyes lock into mine. “If you keep doing that, this will be over before it starts,” he growls.

He leans down to kiss me again, and I whimper as he bites into my lower lip. Slowly, his hand slides behind my neck, pulling me closer until his tongue is tracing slow circles on the roof of my mouth.

I’m so swept away by that kiss that I barely notice he’s positioning himself at my entrance. It’s only when the head of his cock nudges against my pussy that my breath catches—short, rapid inhales—and he pulls away from my lips.

His eyes search mine.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks.

I break into a small smile and whisper, “Fuck me already.”

He pushes in slowly—so slowly—filling the space within me, and oh god, that stretch. I try not to cry out from the pleasure, afraid of just how loud I might be.

Inch by inch, he fills every crevice, like my body was made for this—made for him—and has been starved for too long. My breath catches at the slight burn, the perfect fullness. When he’s fully seated inside me, he pauses, letting me adjust to his size.

“So fucking tight,” he growls in my ear. “Like you’ve never been fucked right. Say no one’s ever filled you like this.”

“No one,” I gasp. “Fuck—no one, not even close.”

He starts to move, long, deep thrusts that make me whimper with every drag inside me, my walls clenching tight around him.

Then he grabs my wrists, pinning me to the mattress with one hand.