Page 156 of Punishing His Runaway Bride
Those words, like a needle, piercing straight in.
His fingers traced up my skirt hem, my breath hitched. Lips grazed my earlobe, murmuring, "These years, always."
"Ezio..."
His name slipped from my throat, not rejection, more like an answer. His hand tightened on my waist, my fingers dug into his shirt, knuckles white.
"Olivia," his voice low, with a lightness I'd never heard from him, "let's start over, okay?"
His fingers paused at my skirt's edge, pressing against my inner thigh, light, slow, restrained, waiting for me to speak. He pushed in a bit, my breath caught, I grabbed his wrist, that heat surging up my palm, burning to my ears, leaving me speechless.
He took my hand gently, guiding it down between us, his eyes locked on mine with that intense, magnetic pull that made my pulse race. The night air cool against my flushed skin, heightening every sensation. But it only made the thrill sharper, my body more attuned to his touch.
He pressed my hand against the heat between my legs, over the thin fabric of my panties, his fingers overlapping mine, directing the pressure. "Feel that?" he murmured, voice rough with desire, his green eyes darkening as he watched my reaction. I bit my lip, nodding, the outdoor breeze whispering across my bare arms, making goosebumps rise and my nipples harden under the champagne dress.
Slowly, he moved our joined hands in circles, rubbing firmly against my clit through the lace, the friction building fast. The fabric dampened under the pressure, clinging to my folds, and he pushed harder, using my own fingers to tease the entrance, almost shoving the material inside me. "God, you're soaking already," he growled low, his free hand sliding up my thigh, spreading my legs wider on the chair.
Out here, with the risk of someone wandering by—the nanny, a guard—the exposure amplified everything, my breath coming shallow, body trembling as he worked me.
He leaned in, capturing my mouth in a deeper kiss, tongue delving in possessively while our hands kept up the rhythm. The lace stretched and poked at my entrance, not quite penetrating but teasingrelentlessly, the sensation maddening. I moaned into his mouth, hips bucking instinctively.
"Let's get this out of the way," he whispered against my lips, finally slipping his hand away from mine to hook fingers under the waistband of my panties. He tugged them down slowly, deliberately, the fabric sliding over my hips, down my thighs, pooling at my ankles. I kicked them off, the cool night air now directly on my bare pussy, making me gasp.
Ezio's eyes gleamed with hunger as he looked down, his fingers tracing back up my inner thigh, parting my legs further. "So beautiful," he said, voice thick, before dipping two fingers into my slick heat, curling them just right to hit that spot inside. I arched, a whimper escaping. He pumped slowly at first, thumb circling my clit, building the pressure, his other hand gripping my waist to hold me steady.
He added a third finger, stretching me deliciously, thrusting deeper, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet garden, mingling with my ragged breaths. The cool air kissed my exposed core each time he withdrew, only for him to plunge back in, the contrast driving me wild, my sensitivity skyrocketing. "You feel so fucking good," he murmured, leaning down to nip at my neck, his stubble grazing my skin, adding another layer of sensation. I clutched his shirt, nails digging in, leaves brushing like whispers, making my body tense and release in waves.
He sped up, fingers fucking me harder, curling to rub my G-spot relentlessly, thumb pressing firm circles on my clit. The exposure pushed me closer, my thighs quivering, heat coiling tight in my belly.
Pressure built, unbearable, my hips grinding against his hand, chasing release. "Come for me, Olivia," he urged, voice gravelly, fingers thrusting deep and fast, thumb flicking my clit with precision. I shattered, crying out softly, walls clenching around his fingers in spasms, waves crashing through me, amplified by the breeze on my flushed body, the stars blurring above.
He didn't stop, easing me through it with slower pumps, drawing out the aftershocks until I slumped against him, breathless.
"Give those two kids a home," he said softly, gently pressing against my still-spasming walls, "give us a chance."
That did it.
Like a bucket of ice water, dousing me head to toe.
I yanked my hand back, shoved away a step, chair legs scraping shrill on the stone.
He froze. "Olivia."
"I'm heading back," I said, voice steadier than I expected, but I felt it tremble. "Leo's got class early tomorrow."
"Olivia." He stood. "You're running."
I tugged my panties back on, bent to grab my jacket from the table corner, not looking at him.
"You still hung up on that ex-husband," his voice cooled, "that's why—"
"Ezio," I cut him off, "thanks for dinner."
I turned and walked inside.
Hall lights stretched my shadow long. I walked steady, surprising even myself.
That "us" he mentioned.
