Page 77 of Luca
He is your husband after all,the devil on my shoulder whispered. God, this man would be my ruin.
My eyes roamed over his strong, naked body. He was beautiful. A masterpiece. His olive skin glimmered like bronze, marred with ink. His torso was covered in tattoos. Madonna. A heart, an actual heart with a rose. A cross on one of his pecs. My fingertips buzzed with the need to touch him. God, I’d give just about anything right now to touch him.
Instead, I had to settle for watching his own strong hand wrapped around his big, thick cock. His hands threaded with veins jacked off, up and down. My mouth parted and my breath hitched while my heart thundered against my ribs.
And the piercing.
How many men actually did that to their dicks?I wondered.
His big body was sprawled in the bed, his upper torso propped against pillows and his thickly muscled thighs spread wide. While his hand pulled hard up and down at his shaft, his other hand cupped his sack.
He looked magnificent as he jerked off. Like an erotic god. His head was thrown back against the pillows, neck corded with tension. There was rugged masculinity about him. Rough, yet so fucking erotic that it had me shuddering with desire. My own arousal seeped into my silky panties, ruining them and trickling down the inside of my thighs.
I’d been blaming my hormones for my reaction to this exquisite man; although if I was completely frank with myself, I'd been lying to myself. I couldn’t tear my gaze from him, imagining it was my hand on his long cock. Imagining it was me bringing him to the edge. I wished I could taste him. See him up-close. I wanted to see every inch of him, every tattoo, every vein, every freckle.
When he hissed, his gaze lowering down to his thick fingers pulling up his shaft, my mouth dried. I forgot to breathe. I couldn’t remember how to swallow and a soft gasp slipped through my lips.
His eyes shot to me. Our gazes clashed. My reason screamed to back away, go back to my room. But his eyes held me glued to the spot. Something hot and dark burned in that gaze.
There was nothing soft about Luca DiMauro. Every inch of him was hard. His soul. His body. His cock. Yet, when he looked at me, there was something dark and tender behind his eyes. For me.
I didn’t know how I knew it but I did. Deep down in my soul, I knew it even if I couldn’t admit it.
He shifted on the bed, giving me a better glimpse of his cock. He wrapped his palm around his swollen shaft and a moan vibrated through the room. His. Mine. Ours.
The head of his thick shaft was swollen and purple. I couldn’t see the tip of it but I could practically taste his pre-cum. His cock twitched under my gaze, spitting precum.
Jesus, I was tempted to find a chair and touch myself as I watched him. That might be the most exciting erotic experience since Vegas.
My hand came to my belly, rubbing it absentmindedly.
“Margaret.” His voice was hoarse. Raspy. Tortured. “Just say the word and I’ll make you come.”
He never stopped jacking off, my eyes following the movement as his hand moved along his length. My skin pulled tight. My body burned. My skin flushed. I wanted to come. But I didn’t want to venture into these dangerous waters with him.
Not with our temporary arrangement.
But maybe I didn’t have to deny myself pleasure as I touched myself? He was doing it. He seemed to like me watching him. God, I’d like him watching me.
“Margaret,” he rasped in a guttural voice. All those tense muscles clenched and twitched as pleasure worked through him. He worked himself faster and harder, fucking into his fist.
“Say it,” he demanded harshly.
I shook my head, my tongue darting over my lips. I was parched. But no amount of liquid would quench this thirst. It was for something only he could give me.
“I can touch myself,” I said stubbornly. My voice sounded distant to my own ears, my brain flooded with a haze of lust. We both knew his touch would feel better, but I worried about crossing that line. “While you watch.”
He stilled his movements. “Say that again,” he rasped.
I gulped. There was still time to bolt. Yet the devil wouldn’t let me. I wanted this. The excitement. The idea of him watching me as I orgasmed had my insides quivering with anticipation.
“I can touch myself as you watch,” I breathed. “And I can watch you.”
A heartbeat passed.
“Sit down over there,” he ordered roughly, tilting his chin toward the lounge chair on the opposite side of the room. “I can’t trust myself if you’re within my reach.”
My mouth formed a silent O.
