Page 171 of Mario
"You're a vision," he murmurs.
I shiver.
He reaches out and trails a finger along my jaw, down the column of my throat, over the swell of my breast, and across the curve of one nipple.
It pebbles under his touch.
I suck in a sharp breath.
"So sensitive," he whispers.
His finger brushes lower, over the flat of my stomach, and dips briefly between my legs.
I can't stop the whimper that leaves my lips.
"So wet," he says.
His finger glides through the slickness, up and around my clit, and I bite back a moan.
"Mario..."
"Show me the rest,sporcacciona. My naughty girl."
Oh God, is that what that means?
It's dirty and filthy and makes me want to beg.
My legs are shaking.
"The dream, Victoria," he says, his voice rough. "Finish it."
He drops his hand and steps back.
I stare at him, dazed.
The dream.
Right.
I turn slowly and face the window.
I hesitate for half a second, then place my palms flat on the glass and lean forward.
The cold glass against my nipples is almost unbearable.
But I'm so hot.
So hot and so wet, that the window is starting to fog up where I'm touching it.
"You dreamt you were like this," he says.
The heat of his body is behind me, but he is not touching me.
"Yes."
"And then?"
I bite my lip.
