Page 49 of Wicked Sinner

brIDGET

Caesar kisses me like a starving man, his mouth hungry on mine as he backs me up until I bump into the back of the couch. His hands drop to my hips, sliding up under my loose T-shirt as his tongue slides into my mouth, plundering, taking, demanding.

My entire body feels like it’s on fire. Like I’m going to die if he stops, and maybe like I’m going to die if he doesn’t. I can feel the heat licking through my blood, feel how wet I am already just from the pressure of his mouth on mine, the taste of his tongue.

His hands rove over my still-flat stomach, up over my ribs, to the edge of the soft bralette I’m wearing under the shirt. He growls as he feels the soft weight of my breasts, and I gasp when his palms curve over them, rubbing over my stiffening nipples as I moan and arch into him despite myself.

“You were jealous.” He nips at my lower lip. “You threw her out. And now you’re kissing me back.” His mouth crashes onto mine again, possessive, demanding. “Maybe this isn’t as temporary as you want to think it is, bellissima.”

My blood feels molten, my knees feel weak.

I reach up, meaning to push him away, but my hands curl into the front of his button-down shirt, pulling him closer instead.

He’s hard, every inch of him, all rigid muscle and the thick length of his cock pressing against my thigh, and I feel dizzy at the memory of how that felt inside of me.

“Yes.” He growls against my lips, biting at my mouth again, one hand coming up to fist in my hair as he pulls my head sideways and drags his mouth down my throat. He’s rough, insistent, his touches not in the slightest bit careful, but I don’t care.

If he were being gentle, maybe I could stop this. Maybe I could tell him no. But he’s not. He’s demanding everything from me that I’ve been pretending I’m not craving, and my body is answering, screaming that I want this, that I need it.

That it could be just one more night. Casual. Meaningless. That the ring on my finger and the penthouse we’re standing in, and his baby inside of me don’t mean anything.

That we could pretend we’re back in my garage, when we barely knew each other’s names and thought we’d never see each other again.

I’m gasping by the time his mouth reaches my collarbone, fingers tugging at the buttons of his shirt.

He lets go of me just long enough to shrug his suit jacket off, letting it fall to the gleaming hardwood floor, and then he’s yanking off my T-shirt, shoving the sides of my bralette down so he can get his hands on my bare breasts.

“Fuck, Bridget—” He moans my name, dropping his head to suck one nipple into his mouth.

I cry out at the feeling of his tongue rolling over the stiff peak, the way his lips feel around it, tugging and sucking as my hips arch into his.

He’s so fucking hard against me, and I keep yanking at his buttons, wanting him naked.

Wanting him bare, too, so I can see all of him again.

It’s unfair, how gorgeous he is. How perfect—all of him, his body, his cock, his skill in bed. It’s unfair that I can’t have this forever, all because he’s something I can’t live with.

That I can’t have a family with.

Caesar moans my name again, biting and licking at my breast before dragging his mouth to the other, his hand replacing where his lips were a moment before.

With every pass of his lips and tongue and teeth, every stroke of his fingers over my sensitive breast, I can feel my arousal building, until I start to think I might come just from him sucking and playing with my breasts.

“Caesar, I—” I gasp his name, finally getting his shirt open as I run my hands up the smooth, cobbled plane of his abdomen, up to his smooth, muscled chest, my nails dragging over his skin.

His hips jerk against me as he moans, and I feel myself clench, feel a climax building as I grind against him thoughtlessly.

His teeth tug at one nipple, tongue lashing against it as he pinches and rolls the other between his fingers, his hips shifting so that the hard length of his cock is rubbing against me through the layers of his pants and my thin shorts, right where I need it the most. I can feel the ridges of the piercings, and when I tilt my hips just right—

I gasp, my head falling back as my fingers claw at his chest, and an orgasm rips through me as I moan his name through clenched teeth.

I shudder against him, thighs parted, grinding against his clothed cock as Caesar groans and looks up, his eyes glazed and heated as he stares at me like he’s never seen me before.

“Did you just—”

I nod, gasping as Caesar pulls back, shrugging off his shirt. “Fuck,” he curses aloud, his hands sliding feverishly down my waist as he reaches down to cup one palm between my legs. “Fuck, you’re fucking soaked. God, I need—”

He yanks my shorts and panties down with one hand, baring me completely as his other hand goes frantically to his belt.

“Fuck, I need that pussy.” His gaze, hot and hungry, holds mine as he yanks down his zipper and frees his cock, kicking his pants and boxers away as he grabs my leg and hooks it around his hip.

I get a glimpse of his thick, rigid cock, metal piercings glinting in the light, before he sinks into me with one hard thrust that makes me cry out in mingled pain and pleasure.

He’s too big to fuck me like this, hard and fast and relentless, even as wet as I am.

But I don’t care, and neither does he. I grab onto the back of the couch, helpless moans spilling from my lips as Caesar looks down at me with a frenzied expression of lust on his face, his cock slamming into me without missing a beat.

“I needed this,” he gasps, leaning down to kiss me hard as he fucks me. “God, I needed you—”

He pulls out, leaving me hollow and empty for a split second before he flips me around, his hand between my shoulder blades as he pushes me down over the couch.

I cry out when he slides into me again, breathless at the sensation of him filling me up—giving me everything that I’m suddenly desperate for.

“God, Bridget—” He moans my name, the sound of it sending shivers over my skin as he thrusts into me hard, almost painfully, but the pleasure is so intense that I can’t feel anything but good.

I can feel every nerve inside of me being stroked, sensitized, the piercings running down his thick length only adding to all of it.

My nails sink into the couch cushions as he slams into me again, and I can feel how hard he is, how close he must be to the edge, too.

His hand slides under my hip, over my stomach, down to seek out my sensitive, swollen clit as he starts to stroke it with quick, firm strokes that send another moan tumbling from my lips. I feel my legs spread wider, my back arching, and Caesar groans.

“That’s it. Arch that pretty ass up for me. Good girl—fuck—” He sinks into me again, his balls slapping against my tender flesh as he strokes my clit faster, and I can feel that I’m on the edge of another climax, this one more powerful than the first.

And then, he pulls his hand away.

“Caesar!” I cry out in frustration, and I hear him laugh, a short, dark, rough sound behind me before he slides his cock free, and then I feel the tip against my clit, that piercing rubbing against my most sensitive spot.

Stars burst in my vision, pleasure sweeping over me at the soft, hot sensation of his swollen cockhead rubbing my clit at the same time as I feel the metal against me, warmed from my body.

It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before, and he thrusts, rubbing his shaft against the drenched folds of my pussy as he uses his cock like a toy to get me off.

“Come on my cock, bellissima,” he growls. “I want your sweet cum all over it before I fill you up. I want to feel you fuck yourself on me. Give it to me, Bridget. Give me what I want—”

The low, commanding growl of his voice tips me over the edge.

I grab the edge of the couch, bucking backwards against him as I fall headlong into a second climax, my body clenching and pulsing with unimaginable pleasure as I ride his cock to my second orgasm.

He keeps thrusting against me for a second more, pushing his tip against my pulsing clit as I come for him, and then I feel him pull back in the instant before he sinks into my clenching pussy as I keep coming around his cock.

“Oh fuck,” Caesar hisses, rocking against me as I feel the hot rush of his cum the moment he’s fully inside of me, my body squeezing him for all it’s worth as my orgasm ripples through me. “Oh fuck, your fucking pussy—”

“So fucking good,” he pants, thrusting shallowly as I feel him filling me up with his cum, his orgasm sending aftershocks of mine rippling through me. He holds himself there for a long moment, letting me feel him throb inside of me, and then he slowly pulls himself free, his hand on my shoulder.

I start to turn, but Caesar is already reaching for me. Without a word, he scoops me up into his arms, both of us still naked, as he leaves the pile of our clothes in a mess on the living room floor and carries me toward the stairs.

“Caesar—” I start to protest, but he shakes his head.

“I’ve finally got you naked,” he growls. “And I’m not letting you out of my sight until I’m ready to stop fucking you.”

As if to prove his statement, I feel the brush of his stiffening cock against my ass, as if he didn’t just come minutes ago. I gasp, and he looks down at me, that wicked gleam in his eyes that makes him look younger and reminds me of the cocky man who waltzed into my garage that night.

“You’re going to be so full of my cum it’ll be dripping from you while I fuck you,” he promises, carrying me into his room and kicking the door shut behind him. “And somewhere in there, bellissima, I want your mouth on me again. I want to taste you again. I want all of it.”

I open my mouth to protest. To tell him that was a one-time thing, that I never meant for it to be something we repeated… that nothing has changed. That we need to go back to the way things were twenty minutes ago.

And then he sets me down on the bed, and I look up at him—gorgeous and muscular, tattoos inked over his olive skin, his dark hair messy and falling into his sharply chiseled face.

His cobbled stomach, his muscled thighs, his rippling arms…

and his cock, stiff again and brushing against his navel, so thick that I don’t know how I manage to take it and laddered with those piercings that I never thought would be so pleasurable.

My body clenches, and I can’t help but think we already did it once. Why not one more time?

Caesar gives me that wicked smile, lowering himself to join me on the bed as he leans over me. He kisses me with a little more softness this time, his mouth still hungry but not as punishing, as his hand slips between my thighs to stroke my too-sensitive clit.

“Caesar—” I start to push his hand away, but he shakes his head.

“You can take it. You can take as much pleasure as I want to give you. All of it.” His fingers slide over my clit again, and I shudder, arching into his hand. It’s too much… but it feels good, too, the promise of more, and I want it.

Even though I know I shouldn’t have it.

I feel like I’m sliding into a haze, into a blur of pleasure that doesn’t let up or give me time to think. Caesar fingers me to another orgasm before guiding his cock into me again, thrusting deep and slow this time until we both come together, my body shuddering from the overwhelming sensations.

And then he slides out, falling onto the bed next to me, one arm over my waist as if he’s worried I’ll run away if he stops touching me for even a second.

It’s a reasonable thing to worry about. I glance at the door. I shouldn’t be in here, in Caesar’s bed, having fallen headlong over a line that I drew so deeply in the sand between us. I need to reestablish that distance, but it feels impossible right now.

He’s so fucking handsome, and he’s naked, in bed, with me. He threw Isabella Torrino out of his house and fucked me until I couldn’t see straight, then immediately got hard again… for me.

It’s intoxicating, and like anything that gets you drunk or high, I know it’s bad for me.

But I don’t want it to stop yet.

Caesar strokes his thumb over my lower lip. “Maybe you’re not as impervious to my charms as you think you are,” he murmurs, that wicked gleam still in his eyes. “You said that you didn’t want me, but I think that was a lie, Mrs. Lewis-Genovese.”

I fight to keep from sucking in a breath at the way he chose to say my name. Hyphenated, the way I told him I wanted. Possessive, but without claiming me completely, to the exclusion of everything I want.

I push him away, sitting up halfway as my heart races in my chest. “You’re dangerous,” I manage, swallowing hard. “I don’t want dangerous.”

“Don’t you?” Caesar pushes himself up on one elbow, his hand stroking down my back. “Because you just came four times in the last hour from dangerous.”

“That was from your fingers and your cock,” I retort, and I see his eyes heat at the filthy word leaving my mouth.

“Same thing,” he murmurs, and he leans in, brushing his lips over my spine. “I’ve been told my cock is dangerous. Tends to make women make bad decisions.”

“Well, that’s right.” I start to move away, but he hooks an arm around my waist, pulling me back down into the bed with him. “That was a bad decision.”

“And the second time?” He leans over me.

“A worse one,” I tell him firmly, and Caesar smirks, leaning down to kiss me with that full mouth that I so badly want to feel between my legs again.

“What about a third?” he murmurs, and then his mouth is on mine, his tongue sliding against the seam of my lips, and I know I’m lost.

Just this one night, I tell myself, and in the morning, I know I have to stick to it.

But right now, all I want is him inside of me again, as many times as I can have it before we wake up tomorrow.