Page 195 of Love Arranged
“If this isn’t real, then why are you soaked for me?” He doesn’t let me answer. “Why are you inmybed, wearingmyring, lying beneath me with your legs spread and your greedy pussy begging to be filled?” A third finger joins his other two, and my back bows from the pleasurable stretch.
I can’t answer him, and even if I wanted to, my mouth and brain aren’t cooperating long enough to formulate a coherent sentence.
“Do you need more proof,amore mio?” He hits the spot that sends my eyes rolling into the back of my head. “Or are you ready to admit that this is real?”
I somehow manage a single word. “No.”
“Good.” His lips curl into a knowing smile as he pulls his hand out, grips my thighs, and wrenches them open. “You know I love a challenge.”
My eyes widen.
His are two glittering orbs, privy to something I’m not. “Fight me all night long on this if you feel the need to. I promise I’ll enjoy every second of it. But make no mistake—you’re not leaving this bed until you admit the truth about us.”
I huff. “You can’t keep me here forever.”
“Why not? It’s not like you’ll hear me complaining.”
His words…the look in his eyes…it’s too much yet also not enough at the same time.
I go to slam my thighs shut, but his fingers dig into my flesh, holding me in place for his viewing pleasure.
“Lorenzo,” I say, my lower half throbbing for some kind of relief. “Please.”
“I know, baby. Don’t worry—I’ll take good care of you.”
He says it like a promise. Like he is making a vow that has no expiration date, and I’m inclined to believe him.
He gets comfortable between my legs, his shoulders nudging my thighs as wide as they’ll go as his mouth hovers over me.
His arrogant smile would make anyone wave a white flag of surrender because I already lost. I know it, he knows it, and my aching pussy knows it too, that traitorous bitch.
“Fuck.” My back bows when he finally puts his mouth to good use.
He somehow mastered my body in a way that makes mefeel like he’s been familiar with it for years. He knows exactly how much pressure it takes to make me moan and how to tease me until I’m grinding against his face, begging for some kind of relief.
He provides me with a continuous wave of pleasure. One that rolls through me with every stroke, lick, and flick of his tongue, my orgasm rising like the crest of a wave until it finally breaks.
I black out at some point, and during that time, Lorenzo crawls up my body and seals his mouth to mine. His fingers sink into my hair, and he cradles my head as our tongues intertwine, the taste of me flooding my mouth.
I could kiss him for the rest of my life, and it will always feel like the very first time. Butterflies exploding. Sparks flying. A heat spreading through my lower half, pulsing every time he rocks forward.
I’m gasping by the time he finally pulls away, and I open my mouth to protest, only for a moan to slip out when he kisses a path across my jaw, along my throat, straight down toward the swell of my breast. When my dress becomes an annoying barrier, he slides his hands underneath and pulls it over my head. My bra follows a similar fate until I’m completely naked and at his mercy.
Lorenzo traces the curves of my breasts with his fingertip, my nipple pebbling when he grazes it with his nail. I arch my back when he flicks his tongue across the sensitive peak, and a jolt of desire ricochets through me as he sucks.
I’m squirming and covered in a few love marks by the time he slides a finger inside me again. We both groan at the same time, his sounding far more tortured than mine.
He adds another finger, which adds the slightest bit of pressure. “You want more, baby?”
My core spasms when he curls his finger.
“Do you like it when I call youbaby?”
I shiver from the way the pet name naturally rolls off his tongue.
He nips at my abused bottom lip when I don’t answer him.
“No.” I lie when he finds that sensitive spot inside me.
