Page 104 of Ricardo

And then I just look.

The firelight flickers across her skin, illuminating those freckles scattered across her stomach and hips. It’s a road map I intend to explore later, every single one, but not now. Now, I have a different destination in mind.

“Così bella," I say, my voice low and rough. "Così perfetta. Tutta mia.”

So beautiful. So perfect. And all mine.

She flushes, a delicate pink spreading across her chest and cheeks. And I know that this is new for her, being looked at like this. Being seen.

And I am not just looking at her.

I am seeing her. Every last inch of her. And I see everything she is, and everything she could be, and I want it all.

My gaze drops to the black lace peeking above the dress still stretched over her hips, and I can't help but grin.

"Of course," I say, my thumb tracing the edge of the lace. "They match."

Her blush deepens, but she doesn't look away from me.

"I had a feeling," I say, my voice dropping. "A hope."

And then, with aching slowness, I let my fingers drift back up to her chest, my knuckles grazing her soft skin. I trace her collarbones, then down the valley between her breasts.

She shudders against me, and her breathing hitches.

I wait until I feel her relax again. I wait until I feel her lean into my touch this time. And that's when I know she is ready.

I take her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, rolling them gently, watching her face.

She bites her lower lip, her eyes fluttering closed.

I pinch a little harder.

Her back arches, a soft cry escaping her lips.

"That's it," I murmur, my thumbs stroking the now-hard peaks. "That feels good, doesn't it?"

She doesn't answer, but I don't need her to.

Her body is answering for her.

Her back is arched, pressing her breasts deeper into my hands, and she is making these soft, breathless little sounds that are driving me insane. Her hips are moving in a slow, restless rhythm against me, a silent plea for something more.

And who am I to deny her what she so clearly wants?

I lean down and take one delicious nipple into my mouth.

She cries out, her hands flying to my hair, her fingers tangling in the strands as she holds me to her.

I lavish her with attention, my tongue swirling around the peak, my teeth grazing her skin. I want to devour her, to consume her, to lose myself in her taste and her scent and the feel of her body writhing beneath mine.

I move to the other breast, giving it the same, loving attention.

I want to slide my hand down her stomach and into her panties. I want to feel just how wet she is. And I will soon.

But not yet because this is not for me. This is not about getting her off. Well, it is. But right now, it's about showing her that her body can be a source of pleasure, not just shame.

That her desires are something to be celebrated, not hidden.