In the hallway, there is another Helmut Newton photo hanging on the wall, a woman ascending a grand staircase with a black dress. The scoop back hangs low, revealing her entire back, the slit of the dress exposing the entirety of her left leg. The picture screams, “Follow me,” as you stare at the woman’s beauty.
When we’re at the door to his bedroom, I enter but stop because it’s dark. Massimo steps around me to turn on the lamp on the nightstand. He struts back to me and guides me to the foot of the bed. His hands caress my arms, across my hips, landing at the hem of my shirt. I want him to remove it but am also self-conscious about my belly.
Instead, I reach for his shirt and tug on it, wanting to help him lift it off. His chest is firm; short, dark hair covers his pecs and meets in the center, with a trail that goes right down the middle of his abs, disappearing into his pants. His belly is flat, but there isn’t a six-pack there, which is how I’d imagined him considering his arms are toned, and his T-shirts are always snug around his biceps.
I place kisses along his chest from right to left, ending on the tattoo covering his left bicep. Black ink covers his upper left arm—a laurel wreath that meets at the top then circles down with a black rose in the middle.
Before I can ask about his ink, he says, “Lena, let me see how beautiful you are.” His hands lift my head so I can meet his eyes. I reach up and rest my wrists around his neck, and I kiss him.
I want to taste him, let him ignite the passion simmering inside me so that I don’t think so much about getting undressed. He returns my kisses, his lips soft and pliant. My hands explore his torso, fingers swirling over his skin.
Massimo’s hands are on my breasts, rubbing and teasing them. The burning sensation in between my legs intensifies with each touch and kiss, stoking the fire within me. It’s giving me the courage to peel my shirt off, tossing it on the bed. Feelings of doubt linger, causing me to cross my arms over my front.
“Are you shy?”
“A little.” I nod.
He places a finger at my chin, raising my eyes to his. “You shouldn’t be. You’re so beautiful.” Massimo lifts his hands and brushes his fingers along my clavicle and down the center of my chest. When his hands meet my arms, he uncrosses them so that they fall to my sides. He cups my breasts and runs his thumbs over the swell spilling over my bra. His lips find the beauty mark on my cheek and linger there before placing a trail of kisses down my jawline, my neck, my chest until he’s kneeling with his mouth at my waistband.
I thread my hands into his hair. “Massimo, please.” I swallow hard; the flutters are a firestorm of fury, want, and need.
“Please what, Lena? Tell me what you want.”
“You.”
“You already have me. You’ll need to be more specific.” My skin burns in the wake of his kisses.
“To feel.”
He pops the button of my jeans open, pulling the zipper, and shimmies them down my legs until they’re lying on the floor. Once he removes them, he tugs my socks off, one at a time, and runs his fingers along the underside of each foot, causing a shiver to run up each leg when he does.
I feel exposed, standing in my panties and bra with Massimo at my feet.
Consuming me with his eyes.
Exploring me with his hands.
Tasting me with his tongue.
I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, reminding myself that this is Massimo, not my past.
My eyes open and I push my bra straps down. He smiles, exposing his canine teeth—teeth I want him to bite me with.
“Are you ready for me to remove these?” he asks, snapping the elastic of my panties. I nod in approval, and he slides them off me. When he removes them, he brings them up to his face, inhaling their scent, my scent, and tosses them to the side. Heat rises to my cheeks at his gesture.
Massimo stands and guides me to the bed where I sit leaning back on my elbows, watching him. He unbuckles his jeans, letting them drop to the floor, and pulls down his white briefs. His erection springs free, standing at attention, and he strokes himself as he stares at me. It’s thick and beautiful, the tip glistening with his arousal. Before climbing onto the bed, he opens the nightstand drawer, grabs a condom, and tosses it to my left.
He kisses the area below my belly button, moves to my left hip, and gently bites the skin before moving to my other hip and doing the same. He runs his tongue up my torso until he lands at my bra, taking the bra’s fabric in his teeth. At that, I rise and unclasp the back of it, removing it, letting my breasts free from their confines. My nipples are engorged from the arousal he’s awoken within me, and he takes one in his mouth, bites and sucks on it, then moves over to my other breast to do the same.
“Your curves, they’re fucking beautiful. You’re delicious, and I want to devour you.” He’s licking and tasting my skin as he travels toward my mouth, where he begins to kiss me greedily. His kisses are intense like he’s worried that if he stops, he won’t be able to start again.
Massimo pulls back from me, extending his hand to grab the condom he tossed onto the bed and rips it open. I watch as he squeezes the tip of it between his forefinger and thumb. Before rolling it down his swollen length, he gives me a fleeting look and smirks. Once in place, he straddles and hovers over me. His kisses are ravenous. His fingers find my folds, begin rubbing, and I mewl in response to his touch.
“You’re nice and wet for me, Lena.” His gaze is intense as he guides himself to my entrance, sliding into me. “Fuck, you’re wicked tight,” he says, unable to control his eyes from rolling up.
He enters me, stretching me with a slight sting as he does. “Massimo, ahhh,” I moan.
He stops, brushes his fingers across my cheek, and asks, “Am I hurting you?”
“No. You feel so good, just slowly, please.”
“Slow, like this?” He glides in, inch by inch, and his stare is so intense that I close my eyes. My body is an inferno of heat that blazes with each of Massimo’s measured strokes.
“Lena, open your eyes, sweetheart. I want to see you, watch as you come undone for me.”
I open my eyes to his, glowing with need and desire. My legs adjust, and I bend them to place my feet on the bed so that I can raise my hips to meet his thrusts. I grip his waist, pulling him deeper into me and the throbbing begins to intensify. Massimo’s thrusts are steady; each one fills me and drags with each outstroke. My body is overwhelmed with the physical sensation of feeling him buried inside of me. His eyes glisten, and my breathing is heavy as the tingling at my apex strengthens. Pleasure consumes me as I climb to my peak and spiral into orgasm, struggling to keep my eyes open.
“Is that what you wanted to feel, sweetheart?” Massimo continues his rhythm as the orgasm rocks through me. He lowers his head, takes my left nipple in his mouth, and sucks on it while he drags his length in and out of me. Sweat beads at his forehead, and I lift my hands to squeeze his buttocks, to intensify his plunges. He lifts his head back up, his eyes meeting mine again.
“Massimo,” I say. My hips move with his, my hands gripping him until he’s fully seated within me. I run my nails up his back, and that causes him to come undone, pleasure blazing from his eyes as they roll up.
“Ohhhh, Lena.” His orgasm hits him like a wave that crests; he rides it with slow, measured strokes. He continues to move gently, grinding his hips in a circular motion, kissing my nose, my lips, my jawline. Our breathing is heavy.