Her eyes snap open, and she shoves at my shoulders.
“Off. I need... I need to taste you.”
I stagger back a step, breathing hard, and she slides down onto her knees, mouth already open like she was made for thismoment. She wraps her hand around my cock and licks the tip, slow and dirty, eyes locked on mine.
“Jesus, Sofia?—”
She swallows me deep, lips slick, throat tight, spit mixing with the water still cascading over us. She gags on it, takes it again, and fuck if I don’t nearly lose it right then and there. Her mouth is perfect, greedy and fierce, and she’s not just sucking me off—she’s devouring me.
But I won’t let her win.
I fist her wet hair, yank her off with a pop, and flip her around, shoving her chest against the tile.
“You want to be on your knees?” I groan. “Then stay there.”
I grip her hips, slam back into her dripping pussy from behind, and fuck her with everything I’ve got. The slap of skin on skin is drowned out only by the roar of the water and her moans echoing in the tile. She’s crying out now, wrecked and raw, but I’m not done.
I spit on my fingers and trail one down her ass, circling that tight hole.
“Fuck, you’re filthy,” I whisper. “You want it all, don’t you?”
She nods, barely able to speak.
And right when she starts to break, I lean in and press the tip of my finger where she’s never had anyone before.
“Come like this,” I growl. “Fucked open, owned, dripping.”
Sheshatters.
Her scream is ragged, her orgasm ripping through her so violently it takes me with her. I slam into her once, twice, then spill inside her with a groan that sounds like fuckingworship.
We stay like that for a long time. Her trembling breath. My cock still buried deep inside her, pulsing with the echo of everything we just gave each other. The water’s cooling now, but I don’t move. Iwon’t—not until I’m sure she knows exactly what she’s done to me.
Finally, I pull back just enough to look at her.
Her eyes are glazed, mouth swollen from my kisses, cheeks flushed and dripping.
“Still cold?” I ask, brushing her wet hair away from her face.
She smiles, slow and wrecked and dangerous.
“No,” she whispers, voice hoarse. “I think you burned it out of me.”
My throat tightens. My chest aches. I lean in, press my forehead to hers.
“You haven’t seen what I’ll do when I’mreallytrying to set you on fire.”
She lets out a shaky breath, hands sliding up my chest, over the bruises she didn’t put there—but will be the only one allowed to touch.
“Then don’t stop,” she murmurs. “Don’t ever stop.”
I kiss her again.
And I swear to God, I never will.
Later, much later, we lie tangled together under the soft comforter, Sofia's head on my chest, her breathing finally steady and warm. The afternoon sun streams through the windows, painting everything in gold.
"So," I say, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare shoulder. "Vito's sanctuary, huh?"
