Page 50 of Ms. Lead

Who am I kidding? She’s always beautiful.

“So…” I echo, being brave and making the first move. I don’t have much time left, and I want to make the most of the time we do have. I want to experience Bianca while she’s within my reach.

Stepping up to her, I frame her gorgeous face with my hands, stare into her dark eyes, trying to memorize their specific shades of brown and gold and the open expression in them right now, and brush her bottom lip softly with my thumb. Her mouth is so damned kissable, so I do. While I can, I am going to steal as many kisses from her as possible.

Something has changed about us now. Our kisses are more urgent, and our touches more desperate. We know the clock is ticking, and time is our enemy, so we’re trying to cram as much sensation into what time is left.

As we kiss, we make our way to the nearest bedroom, leaving everything where we left it, including the groceries on the counter. They can wait. Our desire for each other can’t.

As desperate as I am for her, I want to savor this. I want to remember every freckle, every curve, every sigh, and every groan of pleasure. I lay Bianca back on the bed and stand to take her in, her black hair fanned behind her on the pillow, her lips red from the friction against my own.

I feel a jolt of pride in that. I made her mouth look like that, and I’m making her body squirm under my gaze.

She’s unbuttoning her blouse as I watch, her lids heavy with want, and a knowing smile playing on her lips. She knows what she’s doing to me too.

When she finishes with the buttons, she opens her blouse, exposing a delicate lace bra that was not worn for comfort, it was worn for me, and I love that I know that.

She keeps her gaze locked on me as she runs her fingers along her torso, trailing slowly from her belly button up to the clasp of the bra between her breasts. Her hand pauses, and the hesitation is almost too much.

I need that bra off of her right now.

“Hold that thought.”

I rush out to rummage through my bag, where a brand-new box of condoms is waiting to be opened. My erection is starting to grow painful as it strains against my jeans, so I hurry back to the bedroom. I wave the box sheepishly and place it on the nightstand for now.

As I shed my t-shirt and jeans and slide onto the bed next to her, she starts to unhook her bra, but I grab her hand to stop her.

“Let me,” I say, my voice low and full of air. Leaning down, I draw a trail of kisses across her stomach, savoring the salt of her skin with my tongue, and enjoying every inch as her back arches and goosebumps form under my breath.

I make quick work of unhooking the bra with my teeth, and as her breasts are fully exposed to the room's cool air, her nipples stiffen, inviting me to suck on them, so I do. Hungrily. Her hands rake through my hair as I make sure to give her breasts my undivided attention, teasing the nipples with my tongue and nipping on them with my teeth until she is grinding her pelvis against my thigh.

I gently push her hips down on the bed with my hands as I sit up to take her in again, this time at the beginning of her frenzy. I want to remember every moment of each stage of making love to her, the way her skin shimmers in the low light coming in from the kitchen, the way her breath hitches as I run a finger down her stomach to the top of her lace underwear.

Slowly, I hook my fingers into the waistband and pull them off, tossing them behind me and landing who knows where. The sight of Bianca completely naked, open for me, arching for me, reaching for me, is one that will have to last me probably the rest of my life.

I sear this heavenly vision into my memory and then gently push on her knees to spread open for me. She doesn’t resist but makes a slight noise in her throat that tells me she’s ready for me.

Running a line of kisses up her inner thigh, I reach under her and grab her ass, squeezing the flesh as my mouth finds her sweet center. She purrs and squirms under my greedy touch. As I firmly lick and glide my tongue against her sex, tantalizing with each sweep and swirl, I can sense a tremor begin to build inside her.

Knowing that my touch, actions, and movements are doing this to her, are giving her this pleasure, is the biggest turn-on there is. And watching it unfold before me, feeling it happen, only magnifies it.

I increase the pressure, stroking rhythmically on the exact spot she reacts to every time until she’s begging me not to stop, and her hands are in my hair, grabbing and clawing at my shoulders. Then I suck hard on her clit, extending her orgasm and intensifying it, causing her entire body to shake and spasm beneath me.

She calls out my name, and I think swears in Italian, and as I ease up, she starts panting, her breathing unsteady. I work my way back up her body, her skin now heated. I savor one breast and then the other, holding myself up, careful not to press my body against her.

Not yet. I need to calm myself for a minute before I completely lose myself with one touch from her.

Once I’m sure I’m under control, I settle between her legs, cage her body carefully under me, and trace a languid line of kisses up her neck. When our skin meets, my hyperawareness of her goes into overdrive. The smell of her perfume mixing with our combined sweat, the salt and sweet taste of her skin, the little sounds of pleasure she makes in her throat, and the crinkling of the crisp sheets beneath us as we move only serve to enhance the visual of her body and soft curves as they respond to me. I’ve never had this type of connection with another person and never experienced something so profound.

I have a sudden urge to say something and tell her how I’m feeling, but I stop myself. We’re in the middle of sex. Hormones and endorphins are raging, and emotions may not be clear. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret later.

But God damned if this isn’t what I think love is supposed to feel like. I want nothing more than to make her feel this good all the time. Instead, I can just show her and throw myself into loving her the only way I can.

Our kisses have gentled and turned sweet. A slight respite from the feeding frenzy that just happened. I pull up and gaze into her eyes, trying to see if she’s feeling what I’m feeling. I should say something if she is, but I can’t quite read her expression. Not that she’s guarded, but she’s still lost in her ecstasy and not quite back down to earth yet.

She smiles slyly, tilting her head toward the side table.

“Shall we?”

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