Chapter Nine
Alessandra
The door clicks shut behind my back as Quinn pushes me against it. I had an amazing time with him tonight, which is no surprise because I always enjoy his company, but what he just did to me in the limo—his mouth moving over me like that—proves he’s so much more incredible and way more experienced than I deserve.
My coat falls to the floor in a puddle as Quinn runs his fingers under the straps of my dress, lightly massaging the muscles of my back and neck. His warm hands are a welcome buffer between my skin and the cool door. Quinn Kingsley is ever the gentleman, seeing to my comfort—and to my pleasure—before his own. And there's no mistaking his bulging manhood, which is pressing into my belly.
I bite down on his lip, trying to tame the girlish smile threatening to give away my infatuation with this creature. He groans, and I swear I could die on the spot and be a happy girl. This man, with his firm, muscled body under my searching hands. This man, with his tongue tangling with mine in a hot, powerful kiss. This man, whose self-control is driving me a little bit mad.
As soon as I can free him from his shirt, that bare, chiseled chest is under my palms. I claim it with my fingernails, dragging them lightly down his chest, feeling the soft hair there. I need to see him. I push him away from me, giving myself just enough space to really get a good look.
Quinn Kingsley stands before me in all his sexy, indescribable glory. His tie is loose around his neck and his shirt is half-open from my impatient tugging. His face is flushed, his eyes dark and clouded with lust.
Impatient with my scrutiny, Quinn tries to step back into my arms but I hold him there—on display. I want to see him, to soak in the sight before me, to run my gaze up and down the angles and contours that have quickly become my new obsession. His stomach is lined with muscles, and his chest is broad and firm with sexy pectorals. He looks every bit a man.
I have never been this wet for anyone in my life.
“What?” He sounds gruff, clearly grieving the loss of contact. “Why do you laugh?”
I didn’t even realize that I was.
“I want—” I try to conjure up words for the wild, twisting desire I have for him, but find I’m unable to. “I want—”
Speechless, I drag my hands down his chest again, as if I can find the words somewhere in the inspiration of his perfectly toned abs. He grins at me then, covering my hands with his and drawing me close.
“You want…” His lips brush along my temple, the warmth of his breath stealing mine away.
I may faint. I’ve got to take control. In one swift tug, I rip off his shirt and tie and toss them on my discarded coat. The surprise on his face makes me feel stronger and more experienced than I am.
“You and me. On your bed. Adesso.” Now.
Quinn is on me in seconds.
Are my feet even on the floor? No, his arms are holding me up, one under my legs, the other securely behind my back. I kick off my shoes with a flourish and wrap my arms around his neck, weaving my fingers through his hair as he carries me across his apartment.
A moment later, I’m lowered gently onto the plushest, silkiest bedspread I’ve ever felt. The reminder of Quinn’s lavish lifestyle doesn’t escape me. How did I end up here? How did this exquisite Adonis of a man—
I must have a perplexed look on my face because he tilts his head in concern. Shut up, Alessandra, and be with this man who wants to be with you.
I give him a smile—full, open, and honest. “Come here,” I say, my arms outstretched for him.
He smiles at me, almost with an uncharacteristically boyish sincerity. His body arches over me on the bed, one hand propping himself up while the other cups my cheek.
“Never. Stop. Smiling,” he commands me, punctuating each word with a soft kiss.
I pull him closer to me with what can only be described as a purr. He's more than happy to oblige.
The sensation of silky sheets doesn’t compare to the feeling of Quinn’s half-naked body sliding up against mine. I immediately spread my legs so he can stake his claim on the space between them. We fit perfectly together. His lips find mine again, and every firm grind of his pelvis against mine makes me want to be even closer.
“Take it off,” I plead, tugging at his belt.
He groans. “Pazienza.” Patience.
“No more patience,” I whisper in his ear. One of my hands feverishly combs through his hair while the other slides over the front of his pants, grasping his manhood greedily.
He grunts as I slide my hand over him. “Take off your dress.” It’s a command, not a question.
I rise to my knees on the bed, unzipping my dress. When I let it fall away, I’m left in only a scrap of lace. Time comes to a stop as Quinn’s hot gaze rakes over my skin, and he groans.
“Jesus. You’re exquisite.”
I swallow a wave of nerves. No one has ever described me that way. But here, on his bed, in the moonlight, I feel beautiful. Maybe it’s the way he looks at me, but I really do feel like the most exquisite woman in the world.
“Your turn,” I whisper, reaching for his belt. I give it a tug and Quinn seems amused, pleased to just watch me as I undo his button and then tug down his zipper.
Now there’s nothing separating me from his cock, and a fresh wave of hot, nervous passion crashes over me. This is it. I’ve never been more excited to get in someone’s pants as I am now.
As I peel down his boxer briefs, Quinn watches me with the patience of a saint. I know he must be as eager as I am—the fabric at the front of his boxers is barely accommodating the most mouth-watering erection I’ve ever seen.
He shudders as I pull him out of the constraint of his boxers. He’s huge. And perfect. And so incredibly hot and solid in my hand.
Grasping him low on the shaft, I pull him toward me, feeling the length of him. I lean in, kissing him softly. With every stroke, I suck on his lower lip. The sheets tighten around my shoulders as he digs his fingers into the silk. As tension builds in his shoulders, I feel a desperation mounting to take him inside me.
His hair is a mess, a sexy fucking wondrous mess of perfect, soft locks. I dig my fingers into it, pulling his gaze from my hand on his cock to my eyes. I want him looking at me when I run my thumb over the pre-cum beading on his eager tip. Those chocolate-brown eyes shutter closed with pleasure as the broad tip of him presses against my wet underwear. The electricity that thrums through me, through us, makes us both bite our lips to silence our groans. We smile at our shared reactions.
“Tu sei il diavolo.” You’re the devil. The look of adoration in his smiling eyes tells me he thinks quite the opposite.
“Come?” I blink innocently back at him. How?
“You feel too good to be anything but peccaminoso,” he says with a sigh. Sinful. The bilingual phrasing is charming as hell. I definitely have taken a toll on this man’s concentration.
I breathe hotly against his ear. “I want you.”
He pulls my hand away from its repeated motions and places it above my head. The gesture is gentle, but is the action of a man who wants his turn.
“Bellissima, you shall have me.” He whispers this into the curve of my neck and shoulder.
Goose bumps cover my body. Rather than the confident seductress I was a moment ago, now I’m suddenly twenty-two again, at the mercy of an erotic power I’m more than happy to bend to. Quinn Kingsley can have me any way he goddamn pleases.
His lips trace down my neck, down my chest, stopping over my heaving breasts. He runs a finger over the hardened tip of my nipple, teasing.
At his touch, my back curves involuntarily. I whimper softly as the sensation runs down from my breast, straight to my pulsing core. Every time a guy touched my breasts in the past, it was like a watching a child mash potatoes with his bare hands. But this—this adoration with which he circles his finger around the sensitive tip, the sigh before he closes his lips around it—this is something else entirely.
“Perfection,” he whispers..
I have to hold back a yelp when he licks a slow, torturous circle around my nipple and then sucks it into his mouth. My hips dig into his torso, grinding against him, dying for more friction.
“So good,” I say in lazy English. “It feels so good.”
“Sei bravo.” You are good.
The Italian phrase is simple, but it nearly brings tears to my eyes. He kisses an urgent line down the skin of my belly, his hands running down my legs to peel my sopping excuse for underwear away, and his lips are back on my pussy in seconds. I’m still taken aback by the luxury of having a man want to pleasure me so desperately. He sucks on the sensitive flesh between my legs with a hum that speaks of intense enjoyment.
“Quinn…” I moan, alternating between his name and unintelligible groans. His tongue dips into my clenching, throbbing entrance, and I shudder.
My eyes flutter open and I dare to look at him, feasting on me. His gaze is pinned on me, all the while he plants deep, meaningful kisses onto my most intimate of spots. In the limo, it was sheer lust, a wild thrill of passion. In Quinn Kingsley’s bed, it’s a slow burn with each press of his lips against me.
I bend my knees, opening myself more to his needy mouth. My bare feet slide from his back to his shoulders, where they dig into the muscles there. His hands slide from my hips to beneath me, cupping my ass and tenderly lifting my lower body off the bed. Feverish, I pull at the sheets around me, unable to stop my hips from thrusting up and down in time with every suck, lave, and twirl.
Already I can feel my orgasm boiling to the surface, and a thought occurs to me. . .this time, I want him to feel me come around him. I want him to feel the ecstasy rip through me and give him the satisfaction of a job well-fucking-done.
“Mr. Kingsley,” I say on a gasp. “Would you—join—me?”
He knows exactly what I mean. With one last kiss to my quivering flesh, he lowers my pelvis back to the sheets and stands at the foot of the bed, naked and perfect. His massive erection glistens with a single dripping line of pre-cum. I want to lick it off him. I sit up, finding strength despite my dizziness. He grabs a condom from the bedside table and joins me back on the bed, kneeling between my parted knees.
“Take me,” I murmur.
With my hand on his thick, uncovered cock, I guide him where I need him. His tip rubs up and down against me, but doesn’t enter.
“I’m on the pill,” I tell him with a playful lift of my eyebrows. “I hope you’re…”
“Squeaky clean,” he says immediately.
His cock feels so hot and large between my legs, and I make a wordless sound of pleasure as he teases me with just the tip of him.
“Fuck.” He groans. “So tight.” His voice is rough, and the sound of it makes me clench around him.
Then my Italian stallion slides into me in one powerful thrust, and with just that one motion, I’m pretty sure he’s ruined me for every other man.