Have I ever wanted anything as much as I want this man?
Then, like it was always the plan, Luca sits back, thumbs hooking in the waistband of my panties. He slides them off carefully, setting them on the ground, and without hesitation, spreads my legs and slides his tongue up the length of me.
It’s just like him. Methodical. Direct.
I gasp like I’ve been doused with ice water, while the result is perfectly the opposite. My entire body feels molten, like I’ll change states from solid to liquid at any moment.
He presses on, holding the insides of my thighs to keep them open. Luca isreallygood at this. I suck in a breath that’s meant to steady me—but doesn’t really help—and grasp at the couch cushion as he moves his chin, alternating between dragging his tongue the length of me and paying special attention to my clit.
It’s more than skill or approach, it’s this relentless, tireless, eager drive, like this is all he’s wanted, like he’d do it for the restof the night if that’s what it took. In a flash, I realize the way he’s acting reminds me of Luca on the ice.
Determined. Graceful. Fucking gorgeous.
He flattens his tongue over my clit, presses hard enough to bring my orgasm to the horizon, then pulls back. Just when I think I’ll have a chance to catch my breath, he sucks my clit into his mouth, pinching it between his lips and sliding a finger inside me all at once.
It’s like a fucking combo in a video game. Like he’s unlocked a secret combination of moves that sends me straight to the tallest peak of my orgasm.
I come apart around him, body writhing and jerking like it doesn’t belong to me. The fire dances behind him, painting him in silhouette as he raises his head, wiping his mouth along the back of his hand in a gesture that strikes me as being very un-Luca-like.
“Wren,” he rasps, “you good?”
I’m nodding, but that’s not enough—how do I accurately tell him that I’mwaymore than good? That my body is warm and loose?
That I want him.
Reaching up, I loop my arms around him and pull him into me, kissing him deeply, each beat of my heart repeating a mantra in my head that singsmore, more, more.
Luca
Wren tugs me down and into her and normally, I would pull back. Take some time to clean up my face and maybe even brush my teeth. But it’s like my logical brain has completely taken the back seat.
My eyes feel hot, my mind hazy as I stand up off my knees, my arms around her, pulling her up and positioning her where I want her. I lay Wren on her back and reach down, grabbing the pillow that fell and sliding it under her head.
She smiles up at me, looking ethereal in the light of the fire. Her breasts are soperfectit’s insane, her strawberry hair messy and spread around her face, lips red and parted from breathing hard before she says, “What a gentleman.”
A gentleman might wait. Take his time with this part. But I’ve waited so long for this—practically from the day I met her—and I can’t wait any longer.
I plant one of my hands above her shoulder, and Wren seems to have the same idea as me, because she reaches down, hand sliding around my cock. I hiss through my teeth as she gives it one playful stroke before guiding me to her entrance, her eyes darting up to mine, hips rocking forward eagerly.
With Mandy, she never wanted to do anything that would keep us face-to-face. With Mandy, sex was scheduled, showered for, and only done in the bedroom. My ex-wife would never have kissed me right through the door or let me eat her out on the couch.
This is nothing like that. Even if Wren and I have an agreement too.
With one smooth movement, I slide inside her, letting out a sound from the back of my throat at howwetshe is—wet for me, wet because of me, because of the way I was able to work her with my mouth. Feeling her come around my fingers was like an appetizer.
And now, I would very much like for her to come around my cock.
I tell her as much, and she grins wickedly at me, rolling her hips and throwing her head back, arching her back so her breastspress against me. I lean down, kissing her neck, biting lightly at her collarbone and breathing in the scent of her floral perfume.
Being with her is like having spring in the dead of winter. It’s making me into some sort of fucking poet, and I understand it. I understand the urge to write something sappy and winding after an experience like this. This must be what people feel like on drugs, being in this room with her, the orange light flickering over us like another sensual touch in the space.
Maybe the fireplace was a bit too much, but I saw her shiver when we walked in. I fully planned to strip her clothes off, so I knew we’d need the fire to keep her warm.
Time slips away as Wren and I move together, her chest pressed against mine, her mouth open and hot in the crook of my neck, the sound of her breathing in my ear. Slowly, as I fuck her, we slide down together, my hand moving from the armrest and to the cushion, Wren’s hair spreading out around her head on the pillow.
With each thrust, I go deeper, angling my hips. With each movement of her own hips, we grow closer, her arms winding around me, her heel digging into my back sayingmore, more. Until I’m seated so deep inside her that I expect a twist of pain on her face, but it never comes. She takes all of me and still asks for more.
And I want it, too. I want more. I want to be closer to her.
