I step closer.
His hands leave the armrests and settle on my hips. His palms are warm against my bare skin.
"You're beautiful," he says quietly. "I told you that before. But I don't think you understood what I meant."
"What did you mean?"
He pulls me closer. Closer. Until I'm standing between his legs, his face level with my stomach.
"I meant that looking at you makes it hard to breathe." He presses his lips to my hip bone. "I meant that I think about you constantly." Another kiss, lower this time. "I meant that I haven't wanted anyone in years. And then you walked down that aisle, and I couldn't stop wanting you."
His mouth moves across my stomach. Soft kisses that make my legs shake.
"Bruno," I whisper.
"Get on my lap."
Bruno
She climbs onto my lap.
The weight of her settles against me. Warm skin against my clothed thighs. Her knees press into the sides of my wheelchair, bracketing my hips.
I've already freed myself from my pants. My cock strains between us, hard and aching.
Antonella looks down. Her breath catches.
"Bruno..."
"I know." My hands grip her hips. "This isn't going to be comfortable. Not here. Not in this chair."
She doesn't pull away. Doesn't climb off.
Instead, her hand wraps around my cock.
I hiss through my teeth. Her fingers are soft. Warm. She strokes me slowly, learning the shape of me.
"I don't care about comfortable," she says.
She leans down and kisses me.
I groan against her lips.
Her hand keeps moving. Stroking. Squeezing.
I'm going to lose my mind.
I pull back from the kiss. My breathing is ragged. My control is slipping.
"Stand up," I say.
She blinks at me. "What?"
"Stand up. Turn around. Face the wall."
Her brow furrows. "Why?"
"Because I need to get to the bed."