Page 39 of One Day for a Valet

She couldn’t believe she ever thought Christopher wholesome and charming. He was unadulterated wickedness, gleefully driving her to frenzy.

“Where, Sofia? Show me where you want my mouth.” She splayed her thighs open, and he licked his lips, watching her like he had all the time in the world for her to consider his question.

“Tell me or I will retreat to the sweet curve of your ankle.”

Her eyes narrowed, and his shoulders shook with laughter in response.

“You do have lovely, delicate ankles.”

His eyes dropped to the very boring place in question and made to explore it in closer detail.

“The inside of my thighs,” she whispered hastily.

“Mmm.” He made a contented noise in the back of his throat and rucked up her skirts, his thumbs deliberately teasing along their path.

“The insides of your thighs, you say? Hold this.” He took her hand, wrapping her fingers around the fabric bunched above her knees as though she wasn’t up to the task of offering assistance on her own … which she very likely was not.

He toyed with her garter, then leaned forward and licked at the red imprint it had left on her skin. His eyes widened in this new vantage point, then his gaze flicked up to hers. “Sofia Lioni. No drawers?”

Christopher nipped her thigh, and she let out a groan. “I don’t like the way they feel. Too constricting.”

His hand strayed up the outside curve of her leg, kneading the swell of her hip. “It’s a good thing I didn’t look up your skirts in the hayloft. It would have killed me on the spot.”

“Uomo ridicolo.”

He chuckled low in his throat, then his mouth resumed an agonisingly slow path upwards. Raising her skirts obligingly, Sofia’s head lolled back when his lips brushed the curls at the apex of her thighs.

“Look at you. So wet and pink. Fucking perfect.” He ran a fingertip around her clitoris, sliding his finger away as she lifted into his touch. Once she had settled, he repeated the teasing caress and she ground her teeth to remain in place.

“Good girl. You won’t coerce me into rushing, you great bully.”

She made an impatient noise in her throat and felt him smile against the inside of her thigh as his too-light touch resumed. Despite Christopher’s unhurried exploration, she couldn’t doubt his eagerness matched her own. His chest rose and fell in quick ragged breaths, lips parted, and his eyes were glazed with arousal as he watched his finger circle closer to her swollen bud.

“Christopher,” she pleaded, hips writhing restlessly in search of more pleasure.

Lifting one of her legs to curve around his shoulder, he licked across her sex. All his teasing was gone in an instant, and she shuddered against the unbearable bliss of his warm, wet mouth. The pleased sounds he made in his throat and the erotic lapping of his tongue filled her ears. She had expected his fingers but this? Santa Madre di Dio.

“So sweet. Open more for me. I want all of you.” She immediately complied.

His lips and breath wafted across her skin as he praised her between increasingly ravenous kisses to her core. He slid his palms beneath her rear, his strong grip pulling her toward his mouth.

“Christ, yes,” he murmured, then he sucked at something that tore a moan from her chest. “Just like that, sweetheart. Don’t be shy.” Another delicious lick of his clever tongue. “Don’t be polite with me, lovely. Take what you want. You’re perfect.”

He eased the tip of his finger inside, and she could feel her walls pulling for more of him. “Oh yes. God, that’s good. You feel so good clenched around my finger, greedy for me.” He slid deeper, lapping at her quim as his finger moved inside her. She moaned and sank her fingers into his hair, nearly frantic as she chased her fast-approaching orgasm. She was lost to the sensations he was coaxing from her body, thrusting in earnest against his open mouth, legs trembling as he held her. He supported her hips, eagerly meeting and following her, as hungry for her climax as she was. He sought her pleasure as if it were his own.

“Don’t come yet. God, I want it too, but just a moment longer. I need more of you. Just a moment more, Sofia.” But he did not slow his pace and she could not possibly delay the ecstasy that swept over her.

His mouth and fingers gentled her through the last quivering sensations, and then he kissed the inside of each thigh, murmuring something into her skin before lowering her skirts.

Christopher’s hand was on the very visible bulge in his trousers when he stood, gently squeezing and sliding up and down. She watched from where she was splayed in her chair, fixated on the course movement, the wanton way he pressed into his palm, and the muscles that bunched and flexed in his forearm while he worked himself. Noticing the direction of her gaze, Christopher flushed scarlet to the tips of his ears and stopped, almost like his mind hadn’t been aware of what his hand was about.

“No.” She leaned forwards and placed her fingertips against his stomach. "I want to see. Show me what you like.”

His cheeks bloomed brighter, but he capitulated without a word, flicking open his falls in an instant, his cock heavy in his hand. For a long moment, he watched her watching him before his eyes fluttered closed and his head lolled forward, one arm coming to grip the back of her chair. His muscles were tight as a bowstring as he worked himself with strong, rough strokes. He came quickly into a hastily drawn handkerchief, melting into the pleasure. Sofia remembered his comment about reaching orgasm based only on her pleading noises, and the idea felt deliciously possible.

Tucking himself away and pressing the handkerchief into his pocket, he let out a ragged sigh, then reached for Sofia. He pulled her to her feet and guided her into the circle of his arms, his cheek falling to the top of her head.

“It’s taking all my effort not to terrify you with my romantic ramblings. I swear to Christ I’m about to burst into poetry like an overly enthusiastic songbird greets the dawn.” He nuzzled her curls and kissed the top of her head. “Was that …? Are you …?” He sighed. “I’m afraid I require a great deal of reassurance when it comes to you, Sofia. I’m bungling this, but I just want—No, I need to know that you are pleased. Not to the ridiculous extent to which I am pleased, but pleased.”