Page 3 of My Unexpected Surprise
He goes still, and I hear the sudden hitch in his breath.
My hand follows the curling olive branches, the broken key. Just then, his large palm closes over mine, trapping my fingers in.
When I look up, his eyes are molten through the mask. They're a piercing gray, almost silver in the torchlight, burning straight into me.
I’m breathing hard already, chest rising against the tight ivory bodice. As if drawn by the most powerful magnet, I rise onto my toes and brush my lips against his.
After a few seconds, I realize that he doesn’t move. Doesn’t kiss me back.
Humiliation and want twist together in my belly as I pull away, searching that masked face. He still hasn’t let go of my hand.
He wants me. I know this. Or he wouldn't be looking at me like this.
I try again, hungrier this time, pressing my mouth to his with clear need. This time he responds, but what I get now is a soft brush of lips, a tease that leaves me aching worse than before.
Frustration spikes the desire in my blood, making me even wetter. But, more importantly, frustrated. What's his deal?
I yank back. “Let go of my hand. I misread this entire fucking situation.”
He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls me closer with that unbreakable grip, until my breasts press against his chest and I can feel the hard length of him through his trousers. My nipples harden into tight points against my dress.
I'm so turned on and he's barely even kissed me.
Those gray eyes pin me in place. “So impatient,” he grumbles. “Come with me.”
I don't even have it in me to say no.
Slickness coats my thighs as he leads me deeper into the shadows of the palazzo, down a narrow corridor, then into a small, moonlit room lined with ancient books and heavy velvet drapes. The door clicks shut behind us.
I'm on him immediately.
I want it fast. Dirty. Forgettable. The kind of fuck that erases Vito and my father and everything else for a few blinding minutes.
He doesn’t give me that.
Instead, he catches my wrists.
“Easy,” he murmurs, pinning them above my head with one hand as he backs me against the wall. The position arches my back, pushing my breasts higher.
His free hand traces the neckline of my dress with agonizing slowness. “You’re beautiful like this. Flushed. Needy. Look at you.”
A whimper leaves me as his knuckles graze lower down the swell of my breasts, making me shiver. “The way you tremble when I touch you.”
He dips his head and kisses the swell of my cleavage, open-mouthed. “So soft.” His voice is muffled against my chest. “So responsive.”
I squirm, heat flooding my face. “Just fuck me. I don’t need—”
He cuts me off with a kiss that’s deeper this time, his tongue sliding against mine like he’s teaching me. His thigh presses between my legs, and I grind against it shamelessly, chasing friction. He chuckles against my mouth.
“Patience, tesoro.”
My protest dies in my mouth when he drags the bodice down until my breasts spill free.
Without warning, his mouth closes over one sensitive nipple, sucking like it's his job.
“Oh, fuck,” I gasp as he draws it taut, then releases with a wet pop only to latch on again harder. His tongue swirls, flat and broad, then flicks sharply, sending electric jolts straight down to my clit.
The wet sucking sounds fill the room, his groans vibrating against my breast.
