Page 51 of Salvatore

“What if I don’t want to hold that thought?” he murmurs against my ear, sliding my side zipper down. “What if I tell you all my thoughts are about making you come?”

He yanks the straps off my shoulders and pulls them down, removing the arm anchored around my waist only long enough to finish stripping me out of the dress. “Will you let me make you feel good?” he asks. “Or do you want me to walk away?”

My need for him is so feral and strong, it hurts to speak. I crane my neck to face him, my voice shaking. “No,” I plead.

He freezes and begins to withdraw. I snag his arm around my waist, keeping him with me. “I mean don’t walk away,” I whisper, melding my lips with his.

His hand slides beneath my panties and his body curls around behind mine. I can’t hang onto our kiss. Not now.

A deep groan releases from my throat as I fall forward, slapping my hands against the counter.

I whimper as he pushes his fingers inside me, clenching my jaw. My ass rubs against his erection, keeping pace with the movements of his hand.

“Aw, hell,” he rumbles, increasing our friction.

My breasts bounce as he unsnaps my bra in one motion. He pushes his fingers deeper into me, stretching me, teasing me, making me cry out from the pain mixed with pleasure.

I jolt when his palm passes over the sensitive bud. Passion clenches my stomach, my pelvis rocking fast with my building orgasm. I’m trying to keep quiet and not thrash or lose control.

Sal won’t let me. “Don’t hold back from me,” he growls against my ear, pinching my nipple. “I need to hear how loud you can come.”

He increases his efforts, talking dirty, his voice leaden with sex. Perspiration builds along my breasts with how aroused I am and how perfect he’s working me. I fight to keep quiet. Yet, as my orgasm releases in one hard jerk, he gets his wish.

A lust-charged scream rips through my throat, enticing him to slide his finger out and circle my swollen folds.

He has me swearing, my quivering thighs batting his hands. Another orgasm peaks, hitting me hard enough to fall forward. Sal holds tight, nipping my shoulder. “I want you, Adrianna,” he moans.

My heavy lids blink open. He called me Adrianna, every syllable laced with a mix of devotion and desire. No one has ever said my name like this. No one.

He makes me feel good . . . and naughty . . . and sexy. I need to do the same. “Have you been with anyone else?” I ask him.

His breath is hot and ragged against my skin. “No.”

“And you’re clean?”

“Yes.”

I nod, my head feeling heavy. “Good to know.” I turn and fall to my knees, watching him as I unbuckle his pants and reach inside.

He collapses forward as I move fast and take him deep into my mouth. This time, he’s the one clenching his muscles and using the counter to keep him standing. The fingers of his left hand thread through my hair, pressing gently against my head and encouraging me to go deeper.

“That’s it,” he says, his breath hitching. “Just like that?fuck?yeah, like that, baby.”

This isn’t my first time doing this, but it’s the first time I’m enjoying it. I like taking control, but it’s how he moans as I’m driving him crazy that I absolutely love, craving his pleasure more than my own.

My lips press tighter, increasing the suction and encouraging him to pump faster. The speed in which we’re both working, combined with his sounds and mine, are such a turn on, I almost slip my hand between my legs. But I want this moment to be solely about him and that’s what it becomes. He roars with his release, his body spasming as he watches me finish him in my mouth.

The moment he’s done, he takes a breath and hauls me to my feet. “I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

I nod, agreeing. It’s all I can do.

“And I won’t be,” he says, continuing. “But that means you don’t get to be with anyone else, either.”

“Okay,” I say, my body unbearably aroused.

His grip on my elbows tighten, not enough to hurt, but enough to demonstrate he means what he says. “I’m serious, Adrianna. As long as you say you’re mine, I will fuck up any man who touches you.”

I know where this is coming from, but the heat and possessiveness shimmering his irises make it clear that now isn’t the time to play psychoanalyst. “I don’t want anyone, but you,” I tell him honestly.

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