Page 7 of Sinful Eve

Carlo captures my face and whispers against my lips. “Mine.” He takes my lips and plunges his tongue inside. Claiming my mouth as surely as his dick claims my pussy. “You didn’t answer,” he pants. “Are you mine? Do you want more of this?” He pulls out and teases my pussy with circles and swirls. “Do you want me to keep giving you this? It can be all yours. You only have to claim it.”

“Yes. Damn. Yes.” I grab his face. Holding his cheeks and swearing at him. “Fuck yeah. Give it to me. Give me all of you.”

My words send him into a frenzy. He pumps faster, his hard thrusts stealing my breath. My pussy spasms, and I break away to scream his name as my body quakes. His roar drowns out my scream, until he collapses on top of me. My arms circle him, my hands smoothing his back muscles. Swiping sweat that I bring tomy mouth. Licking his taste from my hands, when it’s gone, I lick the sides of his neck. Drinking him in like an alcoholic desperate for the last drop of the finest liquor.

He stands and pulls me with him. Leaning down, he presses his lips to my forehead before scooping me up in his arms. I rest my head on his shoulder and let him carry me through his apartment. We pass a massive Christmas tree decorated with white lights and gold and silver ornaments. The kitchen is a blur of stainless-steel appliances and white marble counters. He turns into a bedroom that is as big as my entire apartment. A California king bed is centered against the back wall.

“You have a beautiful home.”

He grunts. “It was just an apartment until you came.”

Um. Oh. Kay. That is a lot of pressure and meaning put into a fun, one-night stand. I want to protest. To remind him that I am not here for any of this. But I am too tired. I’ve had a long day, and I’ve just been fucked senseless. I ignore the voice that whispers those are just excuses. The part that says, I know exactly how he feels. I shake the fanciful yearnings away. It might be Christmas Eve, but I don’t believe in miracles.

Carlo frowns down at me. “You’re worrying.”

“I’m not—” Before I can finish the lie, his thumbs smooth out the frown lines I hadn’t realized were wrinkling my brow.

“Who’s in charge tonight?”

I bite my lip, and he growls. “You are?” I hedge.

“And what’s my rule?”

“Um, do what you say?”

“And I say, no worrying. You’re with me. I got you.”

I nod and let him lay me down on his bed. He joins me, spooning behind me and wrapping me in his arms. I try to relax. I’m in a stranger’s bed, and I can’t remember the last time I’d had sex. I hadn’t been with anyone since Ron. A relationship that ended when I became engrossed in my photography business. Aman like Carlo wouldn’t be interested in a self-sufficient woman. A man like Carlo would be looking for a trophy to hold onto his arm and bask in his light. Someone who could handle the life he leads. Hadn’t he said as much earlier? That he had many lovers who were happy to share him? I could never be okay with that. The last thing I need is a man in my life with a string of waiting women. I twist my head on the pillow and see Carlo’s eyes on me.

“Why are you staring?”

“You’re worried again. You’re so bad at this.”

He is right. I suck at this. I never do one-night stands, and this already feels like much more than one night. “Sorry, I’m having a good time.” I wince at the understatement. “I can’t help overthinking…”

“Then let me give you something else to focus on.” He rolls my back onto the mattress and slides over me.

“What are you doing?” I ask huskily as my thighs slide open and hug the sides of his.

He reaches between us and grasps his dick, the head probing at my center. “I’m getting ready to fuck you. If you’re good. You good?”

“Yesss.” The word hisses out of me as he sinks inside. I lift my hips and wrap my legs around his waist. His lips capture mine as his hips press against mine, driving me into the sheets. He keeps one hand planted on the bed. The other travels up my stomach and covers one breast. I lift into his hand. His touch is rough and firm. He squeezes my breast and plucks at my nipple as his tongue continues to ravish my mouth. In the hallway, he’d been rough, driving away my thoughts like a bulldozer. Now he gives me the slow, steady rocking of his dick into the cradle of my thighs. His thrusts are deep, each thorough stroke feels like making love.

Suddenly, he groans, and his hips pick up speed. I moan into his mouth. His tongue captures the sound and swallows it. My fingernails score his back as my body tightens.

“Carlo, please…” I don’t know what I am begging for, but he does. His hand travels down my body and circles my clit. His fingers pinch the swollen nub. I explode, my body seizing beneath him. He pulls out, flips me over, and enters me from behind. His hips pound against my ass, and his palm cracks my right cheek. Then, his fingers curl into my hair, pulling my head back as he thrusts. I push back, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“My good girl,” he croons as he drives us both to the edge. “So, good.”

His praise causes another mini-explosion inside me. I shudder, my body quivering around him.

“You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I moan.

His hand cracks down on my ass cheek again. His thrusts speed up. He pumps into my pussy over and over, driving me into the headboard as his hips move frantically. His hand reaches around and rolls my clit again.

“Come, Olivia. Come on my dick. I want you squeezing my dick as you come.”

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