Page 31 of Italian’s Christmas Acquisition

He knelt down beside her, and stripped her sweater off. The bra she was wearing was simple, pretty. White with a little bow in the center. Definitely not the kind of underwear he was used to seeing on a woman. This wasn’t for show. But for practicality. He found himself transfixed.

“I’m not... I mean my boobs aren’t very big,” she said.

“They’re perfect,” he said, the understatement of the century. He unclipped her bra, and pulled it off, revealing small, perfectly formed breasts. The tips were rosy pink and beautiful.

His breath hissed through his teeth, tension gathering in his chest. “More than fine. You are beautiful,” he said.

He leaned forward, and kissed the sweet curve of her neck, down to her breasts, taking one crest into his mouth and sucking hard. She arched against him, a rough sound in her throat.

And he found that he was driven for her to make that sound as many times as possible.

Yes. He was.

He hooked his finger in the waistband of her leggings, and her underwear, and dragged them down her body, leaving her bare for his appraisal.

He kissed his way down her stomach, down to the sweet center between her thighs, where he began to taste her.

She gasped, and he thought she even tried to pull away from him, but he didn’t allow it.

“Let me pleasure you,” he said.

He nuzzled her there, parting her legs for him as he began to lick toward her center.

“Rocco,” she said, her fingers pushed into his hair.

Yes.

She arched against him, saying his name over and over again like a prayer.

Her hands moved through his hair. It reminded him of the way that she had touched him when she was caring for him while he was ill.

Maybe he was still sick. He felt dizzy. Dizzy with need for her. With the flavor of her coating his tongue. She was like a drug, one that he was more than happy to indulge in.

He pleasured her like that until he felt her body draw up tight like a bow. Then he pushed one finger inside of her, continuing to lick her as he did. And he felt her shatter. She gasped, crying out his name, forking her fingers through his hair and rolling her hips against him.

He growled, surging up her body and claiming her mouth with his, swallowing her cries of pleasure.

Then he positioned himself between her thighs, and thrust home.

She was tight. So tight.

And the way that she cried out didn’t feel like pleasure now, but pain.

He looked down at her face.

“Noelle?”

“Don’t stop,” she said, arching against him. And he was powerless to deny her. He began to move, thrusting deep and hard. Until she began to relax, until she became pliant against him. He moved against her, again and again.

He wanted to take her to the peak one last time. He couldn’t please only himself.

He moved his hand between them, began to rub her with his thumb, and she dug her fingers into his shoulder, crying out as she pulsed around him, and then he lost control. He thrust into her once, twice, surging inside of her, his orgasm overtaking him like a train.

He poured his desire out inside of her, kissed her lips, let her swallow his roar of need.

And they lay there like that, sweat-slicked. He was undone.

“You were a virgin,” he said.

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