"Are you okay?" I ask, my voice rough.
She turns her head to look at me, a lazy, satisfied smile on her face. "I'm more than okay," she says, her voice sounding a little drunk. "I'm…"
She trails off, and I raise an eyebrow.
"You're what?"
"What's that word you said?"
I reach over and toy with her full bottom lip. "Incantevole.Sei incantevole."
"Yeah. That," she says lazily.
"Yes, you are. That and more."
I lean in and kiss her, a soft, gentle kiss, a stark contrast to the raw, primal fucking we just engaged in. She kisses me back, her tongue sweeping into my mouth, a slow, sensual dance that sends a fresh wave of desire through me.
I don't know how she does it. How she can be so fierce and strong one moment, and so soft and vulnerable the next. It's a contradiction, a paradox, and I find it utterly captivating.
When we break apart, she rests her forehead against mine, her breath warm on my face.
"I'm hungry," she murmurs.
I chuckle, a low, rumbling sound. "That's not surprising. We burned a lot of calories."
She pulls back and looks at me, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Are you offering to feed me?"
"I might be persuaded," I say, my fingers tracing a pattern on her shoulder. "What are you in the mood for?"
"You," she says, her voice a husky whisper. "Again."
My body responds instantly, my cock stirring, already half-hard. I groan, and she smiles, a slow, wicked smile that tells me she knows exactly what she's doing to me.
"I think we need actual food," I say, forcing myself to be responsible. "We need to rehydrate, replenish."
"Fine," she sighs, but her eyes are still sparkling. "But after that, I'm having you for dessert."
"I think I can handle that," I say, my voice thick with desire.
She sits up, and I watch her, my eyes feasting on her. The way the moonlight hits her skin, the curve of her back, the swell of her breasts, as she lifts her arms above her head and stretches. She's a work of art, a masterpiece of feminine beauty, and I can't believe she's here, in my bed.
"Your back," I say, my gaze fixed on the delicate curve of her spine.
"What about it?" she says, turning to look at me over her shoulder.
"It's beautiful," I say, my voice husky.
A slow blush creeps up her neck, a surprising and endearing reaction from a woman who seems so sure of herself, so in control.
"It's just a back," she says, but she sounds pleased.
"It's not just a back," I say, sitting up and reaching for her. I pull her back against my chest, my arms wrapping around her waist. "It's your back. And it's beautiful."
I press a soft kiss to the nape of her neck, and she shivers, leaning into me. I trail my lips down her spine, a slow, deliberate path of kisses that makes her breath catch.
"You're good at that," she murmurs, her head falling back against my shoulder.
"I'm good at a lot of things," I whisper in her ear. "But I'm best at what I enjoy the most."