I need the passion he holds for me to heal my wounds. I was done with being lonely. I was done with being alone. I just hadn’t realized it until Rocco stumbled into my life, showing me the beauty in a broken soul.
The rough brush of his beard tickles my mouth as he kisses me. Lips softer than I imagined. Our tongues push together in tender strokes.
A lump in my throat forms, my emotions wreaking havoc within me. He tastes like freedom, lips closing over mine in the promise of safety.
I’m ashamed to admit that I made assumptions about Rocco. I judged his appearance and decided he’d be a pushy lover. One that would be consumed by his own pleasure.
I was wrong.
Hands, large enough to swallow my throat, remain planted against the mattress by my head. The weight of his body, heavy enough to pin me down, remains suspended above me. With only his lips and tongue drifting across mine, I feel pleasantly possessed. Brazenly adored.
As lost in the moment as I am, he groans into my mouth. The rough burr shoots desire through my body, the feeling exploding wickedly at the apex of my thighs.
This is how it should feel.
I moan, hands twisting into the soft cotton of his shirt, pulling him closer. He fights me, pushing himself up higher, almost out of reach. My mouth chases his, neck arched uncomfortably to ensure he can’t disconnect.
Yanking at his shirt again, he laughs into my mouth.
“Stop it.”
Breaking our kiss, I look at him in confusion.
Eyes focused on the swell of my well-kissed lips, he growls. “I ain’t gonna touch you, Cami,” he tells me, his voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it. Thick with the hunger he’s refusing to give into. “Not until you’re ready.”
Pushing my elbows up beneath me, I kiss along his jaw. “Who says I’m not ready?”
“I do.”
Teeth gnawing at my lip in indecision, I pressure my voice to speak. “How will you know I’m ready?”
Dropping his mouth to my ear, his tongue caresses my lobe, pulling it between his teeth. “You’ll beg me.”
I laugh, the sound completely lost to the moan I let out as his lips drift across my neck. “Beg you?” I whimper.
“Yeah, beauty. You’ll beg for my cock.” He sucks on the delicate line of my neck hard enough that I know it’ll leave a mark. “You’ll plead with me to put you out of your misery and make you come. You’ll walk around with damp panties for days, weeks before I’ll give it to you. You’ll well and truly move past the juvenile feeling of want and move into a desperation only I’ll be able to cure.”
Lifting his head, a salacious smirk tips his lips upward. “That’s when I know you’ll be ready.”
“But...” I argue meekly.
“But what?”
How do I tell him I need him now? That my body is buzzing in a way I haven’t felt in years. That I don’t want to lose that. That I want to grab hold and let it be mine.
“You want to be touched?” he murmurs. “You’re wet for me now?” He presses, his tone begging me to say yes.
I nod, my voice unable to find its power.
“So touch yourself.”
He shifts backward, taking my hand to cup it over my pussy through my pants.
I cry out in pleasure, the simple thrill of my own hand gripping me sending tremors through my body.
“In front of you?” I swallow, unable to remove my hand. The feeling too addictive, too gratifying to stop.
“Yes,” he answers coarsely.
“You wanna watch?” I ask hesitantly.
“I’d kill a man to watch, beauty. You want me to watch?”
I don’t need to think about it. “Yes.”
Head tipped back, he growls at the ceiling.
Palm rubbing across his jaw, he rights his head, watching me. There’s something about lust that changes someone’s eyes. The way their eyelids drop just that much; heavy and hypnotic. The change in color; the darkening of their iris that promises a carnality you’re not quite used to.
“I’m gonna stand against the wall,” he husks out. “Control my hands reachin’ for you.”
“No,” I rush out. “No,” I repeat more calmly. “Stay close. I want you to do it too? Touch yourself for me, Rocco.”
His hand falls to his crotch subconsciously, his large hand gripping it tightly. The generous bulge of his Adam’s apple slides up and down the line of his throat.
“Please,” I beg.
He says nothing, watching me in silence.
Unable to stand the quiet any longer, my hands grip the waist of my lounge