Page 12 of I Think Olive You
“They’re in my bag,” she pouts.
I eat up the distance between the door and the bike with angry strides, back at her side between the span of a few breaths.She rifles through the bag and I’ve never been happier to hear the jingle of metal clinking.
Unlocking the door is taking too long and I poise myself behind her. Pulling her body flush with mine, the hardness in my jeans presses flush against the dip of her lower back.
“Not fair,” Giuliana complains, but the key turns and the door swings open.
“I don’t play fair. Not with this.” It’s a rough whisper against her neck. Body aching with desire, I pack away the little something in my mind that feels suspiciously like a conscience.
Then we’re inside, and Giuliana’s leading me toward a bedroom. The windows are cracked open, curtains dancing with the wind. Kicking off my jeans, Giuliana tugs at her shirt in between kisses. The fabric of our clothes joins in a pool on the floor until we make it down to our underwear, and I can’t hold back any longer.
Pulling her tight against my body, my hands cup the voluptuous curve of her ass as I walk her backward to the bed. A gentle push and she’s splayed out in front of me. Standing between her legs, I watch as she’s bathed in silver and starlight—her hair fanned out around her and her breathing ragged. God, she looks fucking phenomenal.
Her breathless laugh lets me know I’ve said it out loud and I shuck my underwear before I sink down to my knees at the edge of the bed.
“What? What are you—?” is all she manages before my lips find the soft flesh of her thigh. Holding the outside of her legs, I urge her hips up to ease her underwear off.
“Matteo?”
“Tell me to stop now, gorgeous, and I will,” I command as I pull the fabric down her legs and kiss my way back up, goosebumps rising on her skin in response. She doesn’t protest the endearment, rather my actions.
“I don’t want you to stop. I want this. I want you. But you don’t have to… I know guys don’t really like?—”
“Giuliana, the next time you open your mouth better be because you’re moaning my name.”
Slotting my mouth over her heat, she arches up against the bed at the contact. My hand presses into her belly—holding her in place as I lick, and suck, and savor. The taste of her essence is slick and sweet, and I wait until she can’t keep still before I test her.
Finger sinking in with ease, Giuliana hisses and moans at the friction.
“So hot,” I say, sucking on her clit until I feel her relax around me. And then I add a second finger, curling them up to rub against the textured wall deep within.
“You’re so tight.” It’s little more than a moan against her thigh, my cock weeping with want for her. If I touch myself now, it’ll be over. I’ll spill all over myself like an untried teenager.
No one has driven me higher, pushing me closer to the brink without even laying a finger on me. If Giuliana wrapped…
I grunt at the thought, my hips jerking.
No. Focus. Focus on her first.
“Matteo…” It’s reedy, almost a whine, and she rocks her hips so my fingers sink deeper inside of her.
“Yes, beautiful?”
Giuliana reaches her hand down and her fingers snake through my hair, playing with the springy curls. My thumb brushes against her clit and her hand tightens in my hair.
“More.”
There’s nothing to do but obey. I stroke and tease and feel every inch of her quiver. Thick thighs tighten around my head as she chases the high, on the precipice of falling. And then she does moan my name, a guttural, almost pained sound as she crests. Clenching around me, her body’s rhythm strong, she pulls me in deeper before she finally melts.
Giuliana’s body goes lax save for a few twitches when I kiss her—when my tongue laps up the proof of her desire. I tug my fingers from her wet walls. Fingers coated in her essence, I wrap them around my cock and squeeze—not trusting myself to move. Not until I’m sure she’s pleased with me. Not until I’ve earned it.
Her breath shudders out of her with a sigh, and she lifts up onto her elbow to look at me—her eyes glassy and half-lidded. Fuck. Staring up at her from my knees feels like a high I’ve never reached before. A giggle passes her lips before she flops back down. “I feel like I don’t have any bones. That was… so good.”
Rising up, I stare down at her dopey little smile. She looks as relaxed as I hoped she’d be. I stalk onto the bed, kneeling between her spread legs, and press my lips to the pulse at her neck. “Oh, Giuliana, that was just an aperitivo. I was preparing my palate and whetting my appetite. Now the real feast begins.”
Don’t fuck this up. Don’t embarrass yourself. The reprieve from my own mind is at an end, and it angers me, tainting this experience. Sure, I kind of agree with the sentiment, but the self-loathing accompanying it tampers my desire to a manageable level. It’s enough of a cold splash that I remember to get a condom first. I need to recover some of my wits because lord knows I discarded them somewhere between her breast in my hand and her orgasm on my lips.
“Come back,” she commands, leaning up on an elbow, her hair falling over one shoulder, and I want nothing more than to feel the silky strands run over my fingers before I grip them.