Catarina
What the hell?
Pleasure zings through my core, and warmth engulfs me completely. This has to be a dream because there is no way Gianni really just said what he did. It’s painfully obvious he saw me watching him. My brain is already overwhelmed from the breakup and the move, and now I’m imagining things.
Only I’m certain I’m not dreaming. I’m very much awake—the desk is firm beneath my ass, and my skin is tingling. I inhale his spicy scent deep into my lungs once more to remind myself that this is real.
“Excuse me?” Of all the ways I could respond.
The pressure from his fingers, the way he strokes with his thumb while never breaking eye contact. I can feel it deep in my bones.He wants me. I’m not a child in his eyes.
“You heard me. We both are well aware of what happened the other night. There’s no point in denying it. I know you got off, and I know you watched me get off.” His lip ticks up at the side. “Or maybe you thought I didn’t see you.”
“I…” My brain is melting into a puddle of mush. I’ve always played it safe. I’ve always done what was expected of me. Maybe I don’t want to do that anymore.
“Tell me, little bird, because I’m curious. Have you touched your pussy since that night?” His rough, deep voice echoes through me. The nickname. He said it again. I want to ask him what it means, why he calls me that, but my tongue refuses to work.
It’s one thing to have fantasized about this moment, but another to have him between my thighs, trapping me on the desk. While I’m still reeling from the shock, a tiny voice in my head cuts through the frantic confusion. It speaks only two small words, but their impact is formidable.Why not?
“Don’t be shy, Caterina.” His whisper of breath on my cheek pulls me back to the present. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve touched myself since that night. Many times. Over and over, and over again.” Fuck. His voice wraps around me, tugging me deeper into him.
“Yes.”
“And what were you thinking about while you touched yourself? Me stroking my cock. Or were you wishing for my tongue and fingers to be inside you? Were you jealous, Caterina? Jealous that it was her pussy juices soaking my chin and not yours?”
Oh god, we should not be doing this. My pussy should not be clenching like this. Shame burns my cheeks.
I try to turn away, but his strong fingers grasp onto my chin and force me to face him. “I know that look. The guilt. Shame. There’s no reason to feel any of those things. I loved it. I was watching you every second. Nothing we did was wrong.”
His nostrils flare, each breath louder and more ragged than the next. “I have a confession to make. It was you who got me off. Not her. All I saw was you on your knees, your pretty lips parting for my cock, your gags and moans in my ear.” His pink tongue darts out over his bottom lip, and it’s all I can do not to lick my own lips. “And I’ve never come so fucking hard, not without touching someone.” I can’t breathe or think when he’s saying these things. “Imagine how explosive we would be together.”
Even though I know this is real, I still can’t let myself believe it.
“I know what you’re thinking, Caterina.” His voice dips low again, and I press my thighs together to ease some of the ache. “This is wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this. It can’t possibly be real. But it is. And I want more, need more. I know it’s what you want too.”
He’s taunting me, challenging me to step over the moral boundary. He knows that crossing that line is exactly what I’ve been longing for since I first saw him through a woman’s eyes.
“Tell me it’s what you want,” he demands. “Or better yet, tell me you don’t want me so I can erase that night from my mind. So I can pretend it never happened.” His jaw tightens, revealing that he’s been tormented by the memory just as much as I have.
Make the right choice.
You’re a good girl.