pushed out into wild and unharnessed moans.
His hand locked onto its target. But he didn't ease up on the torture. His thumb pressed against her clit with only her panties as a thin shield. God, her patata was wet.
" Oui ?" his voice stroked her.
She nodded her permission.
He slid his fingers behind the barrier grazing more than her clit. The connection blew her fuse.
"Oh, merda !" Anna popped up onto her elbows. Her body couldn't stop reacting to the triggered shockwaves. Every nerve shook and shimmied beyond her control.
His hand moved away from its endeavors, but only for him to lick her juice off his fingers.
She tried to talk, instead, she moaned. Her thoughts colliding between English and Italian formed and evaporated under the emotional buildup. She tossed back her head overcome by the urge to cry and laugh over his intense play.
He didn't let up for one second. Her exposed neck invited a heady mix between his lips and his tongue conquering a new path along her neck. Her body felt wracked with a feverish flush that wasn't due to an illness. Not until he slid off the bed and stood in front of her knees that she sank onto the cool sheets. Her breathing remained heavy.
"Music on," he said toward the sound system built into the wall.
Seconds into the first song she recognized Kenji Girac's sultry smooth voice. Anything the man sang in his romantic ballads dripped with sexual innuendo and lots of sensuality. The perfect ingredients to match the desire continuing to unfurl within her. The music interspersed with French lyrics dropped a veil of romantic bliss over them like a special cocoon to block out the world.
He pulled her up in his arms against the rock hard frame of his body. His hands slid down onto her hips and rested there as they swayed to the hypnotic Latin-infused beat. Her head rested against his shoulder. It didn't matter that she danced wearing only her panties.
" Je veux t'embrasser ." He tilted her chin to accommodate his request.
She welcomed his mouth, his tongue, his passion as it all scooped her up for a wild ride. Always the artful kisser, he made her giddy drunk with his mastery of stoking her hot spots.
"Turn around."
She complied with a slow turn and waited.
He stepped closer to her. His body heat warmed the space between them.
It took every ounce of patience to wait for his next move or the next thing he'd say. So far, he hadn't uttered a word beyond turning on the music. His breath continued to warm her neck.
Why did he toy with her? If only she could hone in on his thoughts. Anything to give her a clue.
Did he feel the strange, strong connection between them? Or maybe only her heart spun such wistful thoughts.
Finally, he made the first move. His fingers drifted along her neckline, shifting her hair over her shoulder, before settling on the zipper. Then he pulled down the zipper and gradually exposed her back. Now his breath warmed the goosebumps that weren't due to the room temperature.
Like the gentle brush of feathers, his fingers swept her skin. Every stroke, every touch connected her to him. She rubbed her cheek against his hand that gripped her shoulder and started to dance to shake loose her tightly wound nerves.
He slid her dress off the right shoulder and then off the left. She continued her dance in place moving her hips against the hard bump of his arousal.
He groaned. " Tu es belle ."
She moaned her appreciation.
But his compliment didn't stop there as he continued whispering words between branding her neck with kisses. Her back arched to accept all the attention. Her behind pressed into him.
"Volume up," he ordered.
Andalouse blasted over the speakers. The poppy upbeat snatched control of her hips that immediately responded with a series of hitch and swirl combinations against Damien's pelvis.
His answering sway sent her off to a time in their past when they'd dance all night long and then came home to make love until the sun rose.
" Fai l'amore con me
Learning to Kill: Stories