Page 46 of Caesar DeLuca
“Oh my god,” I breathe.
His hands feel so good on my hips, squeezing my flesh, I can’t think. He’s touching parts of me I’ve felt insecure about for years. My stomach’s not flat and neither are my hips. I’ve got rolls, curves, that he seems to love gripping. It’s like the softness of my body only makes him harder.
Like it turns him on to feel how different we are. How he’s all muscle and strength and I’m supple and malleable and thick.
He groans, kissing me and feeling me up, as if he’s realizing how many more curves I have for him to explore. My large breasts that he gropes and then my soft tummy and thighs. He has me grinding along with him as I palm his chest and slide fingers along his jaw.
“Bedroom,” he grunts. “That’s where I want you. I want you to lie in your bed late at night from here on out and think about me. I want you to remember that nobody’s ever fucked you like Caesar DeLuca.”
He shuts me up with another kiss before I can even protest. I’m tugged along the rest of the way down the hall, then up the stairs. We stop every few feet for more hungry kisses so that by the time we walk through the bedroom door, we’re both panting.
He pulls me close for another deep kiss, his arm curled around my hips. I’m caught between feeling more turned on than I have in years—maybe ever—and the quiet panic that’s welling up inside me.
Caesar’s tongue teases mine. His kisses are perfect. Just right.
Soft but passionate.
All of them edged with a desperation that’s overwhelming.
In his kiss, I can feel how much he wants me. The ragged breaths he releases in between.
It blows my mind that he’s so worked up. That he clearly wants me so much he’s barely able to restrain himself.
I know what he’s feeling because it’s what I’m feeling too. An attraction that’s intense, thrumming through me like a second heartbeat. My body calling his.
The quiet panic that’s been lurking under the surface finally breaks free.
It rushes me all at once. I push at Caesar’s chest, rattling out a breath. “This is… it’s just too much… I haven’t… it’s been three years…”
Weak? Lame? Ruining the mood?
My objection falls under all these categories.
But I’m being real with myself… and Caesar.
My eyes are wide, and I’m breathless, wearing my emotions on my sleeve for him to see. This situation terrifies me, and I can’t pretend otherwise. I’ve gone from living in total solitude to sharing my space with a man I don’t know in the matter of a few days.
Not just any man either. A man I’m insanely attracted to and who’s openly expressed his desire to devour me.
I don’t date, and I’m not some freak in bed.
Freddie always complained. He used it as justification for his cheating ways. Yet another blow to my self-esteem.
I cringe once I’ve come clean. Caesar likely sleeps with the same kind of women Freddie did; the sexy bombshell types that can please a man better than I ever could. I probably sound so?—
“Relax, Ariana,” Caesar interrupts my runaway thoughts. His hands cup my cheeks and he kisses my brow. “This isn’t supposed to cause you anxiety. This is supposed to be fucking good. We’re going to enjoy each other.”
“It’s just I… I’m not…”
“What?” he asks, slanting his head to one side. “What is it, Ariana? Because you can see how you’ve got me, can’t you?”
I glance down at the large bulge in his sweatpants and swallow in a gulp. “It’s been a while…” I offer feebly.
“Three years?” He pauses long enough for my nod. “That is a while. But it’s been a while for me too.”
“It… has?”
“Ten months.”
