My dreams returned me to Massimo’s bed this morning and the feeling of melting into the rough sheets, under the control of his strong, confident hands. My skin felt hot, feverish with want. I writhed on my bed, knowing it was a dream but not wanting to wake up and lose the sweet pleasure.
In my mind, Massimo’s tongue worked up my inner thigh, and the cool air of the room against my wet skin had me shivering.
Wait . . . It reallydidfeel wet.
I opened my eyes to my darkened room. I looked down and saw him.
My demon. He was just a shadow against the white sheets in the semidarkness, but I knew it was him from the way his scent wound around me, filling my head. I knew it was him from the way he touched me, those calloused fingers that were becoming so familiar.
He lay between my legs, having worked my pants off while Iwas sleeping. Now he kissed between my legs, his long, hot tongue working up and down my slit. Lapping me up.
The fact that I was extremely close to orgasming dawned on me as I came fully awake.
I sank my fingers into his hair and tugged his face up.
His eyes were pits of shining darkness.
“You’re awake?” he murmured, his voice throaty.
“Now, yes... What are you doing?” I asked softly.
“Taking care of my things. You were having a nightmare,micetta—you needed distracting, and I needed to taste you.”
He leaned up, and I clutched at his shoulders.
“What are you doing?” I repeated, panicked. I was so close to coming, the thought of him stopping now was horrifying.
He chuckled, low and dark. “Why?”
“You know why...” I trailed off, my cheeks hot.
He shook his head. I could only just make out the movement in the dark.
“No I don’t. I need you to tell me.” He stood beside the bed, looming over me in his black robes.
“I-I don’t want you to stop.” The confession felt damning.
“Because?” he encouraged.
I sighed, my cheeks burning at this point.
“Because it feels so good and I want more. Because I didn’t know it was possible to feel the way you make me feel. Because even if it’s a sin, it feels like heaven.” I tore off the stream of shameful truths as he pressed his fingers to my lips.
“Stand up,” he instructed me.
Slowly, I followed his instructions, standing beside the bed. He settled himself on the end of the mattress, thick, muscular thighs digging into the edge, and reached for me. He stroked his fingers over my cheeks and then cupped my face. Those handsslid downward and ringed my neck. His forehead rested on mine, and his chest expanded like he was breathing me in. Right then, in that loaded, wavering moment, my stomach let out a loud growl.
I cringed, and Massimo chuckled.
“Have you eaten today?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about food. I was still lingering in that place where he’d coaxed my body while I was sleeping. So close to coming I could cry.
“I brought you something to eat. You don’t like the hot food, right?”
“It’s drugged.”
He sighed. “Of course it is. Motherfuckers. Let’s get you something to eat.”