Dangerous Desires

Chapter 4

CHARLOTTE's POV

If I'm going to jump off the bridge of celibacy, there could be no better specimen of masculinity to do it with.

He crosses the space between us so fast, I barely realize he's moved. Wrapping his hand around my hair, he holds it like a ponytail, keeping my head in place. He dips down so our lips touch. Just that. A simple touch.

I make a needy sound and I push up toward him, wanting a deeper kiss.

He gives it to me, suddenly devouring my mouth and I respond with an alien, wild passion. His big hands are on my back, touching and pressing me closer. Then he undoes the clasp of my bra and pulls it from me.

My soaked panties are next, but when I go to step out of my heels, he says, "Don't. Leave them on."

With an arm under my bottom, he picks me up and carries me across the room until I feel the wall at my back. Then he lifts my body like it's nothing and drapes me over his shoulders. My s*x is right in front of his face. He breathes against my most intimate flesh and I shudder in response.

Inhaling like he's savoring my scent, he nuzzles forward. My own head thunks back against the wall, my hands digging into his hair of their own accord.

How is he holding me up like this? I'm not tall, but I'm by no means tiny. I don't wear a size two, in fact I shop in the plus size department when I have time to look for new clothes. My boobs and butt are what is referred to as curvy. I have thighs that will never be referred to as pencils; my tummy is not flat, much less concave.

Yet, he shows no strain from this position. That is so freaking hot.

His tongue flicks out to taste me, laving my folds and then pressing against my Cl*toris. Already so hot, I am gasping on the verge of o****m. How did he get me here so fast?

Uncaring, my body responds to his teeth and tongue with unabashed delight. He eats me out like he's enjoying himself, not like he's chasing my c****x so he can get his rocks off. His tongue is all over my vulva, but then he thrusts it inside my V*gina and I cry out.

I haven't had anything but my own finger in there in five years. I touch myself to get off to relieve stress. It never feels like this.

Rubbing his nose up my labia and over my c**t, he sends jolts of pleasure sparking along my nerve endings. When his mouth settles against my swollen nub, he nips it with his teeth.

"Oh!" I gasp out.

Then he sucks on my Cl*toris and ecstasy radiates out from my core.

I scream when I come, squeezing his head with my thighs, shoving myself forward to press against his willing mouth. He's not done though, and he keeps eating me until a second c****x hits with even more ferocity than the first.

Then I'm begging. "Basta!Stop. It's too much.Per favore…please…"

I'm American, but in the Tucson Silician Mafia, Italian is the first language we teach our children and it falls from my mouth too easily when I experience deep emotion. Or incredible s****l pleasure.

I don't even know this man's name and I don't care. Not right now. I'm begging him to stop, but my thighs aren't relaxing so he can move his head back, are they?

How am I twenty-eight years old and only now realizing I can feel like this?

When my leg muscles finally give and they nearly slip off his shoulders, he does a little jog with his shoulders and I slide back. He doesn't let me fall. He doesn't even let my feet hit the floor. He puts his arms around me and unerringly carries me to the bedroom.

I would say it's instinct for a s****l master like this man, but really, there is only one door. The bathroom is through the bedroom.

He lays me on the bed before turning to go.

No way did he just give me multiple orgasms with his mouth only to leave without getting off himself. Right? Before I can fret too much about it, he's back, a small foil packet in his hand. He rips it open and rolls the condom down his length.

Then he joins me on the bed, positioned between my legs.

Before he can put that monster inside me, I say, "Wait."

He does and something inside me cracks. This man.

"What is your name?"

His smile is sexy as hell. "Oliver."

"I'm Charlotte. When I say it's a pleasure to meet you, I mean it."

He's still smiling when he lifts my legs and pushes my thighs wide so he can press the head of his big d**k against the entrance to my body.

"The pleasure is mine." He thrusts forward, hard.

A string of Italian curses explode out of my mouth.

Sliding into my wet heat, he stretches my V*ginal walls until I'm sure I can't take another millimeter. But do I want him to stop?

No. And he does not.

He keeps thrusting in and out, going deeper with each thrust until he's hitting my cervix. A different kind of pleasure explodes in my core. Tinged with erotic pain, it's so intense it radiates outward, devastating every nerve ending in its path.

He pistons in my body, dragging his thick p***s along the hypersensitive tissue of my inner walls.

And all I want is more.

Then he discovers my breasts. Or at least that's what it feels like. Because he stops moving to play with his new toys and as frustrated as I am, I'm also experiencing an overload of sensation. Every tweak of my n*****s results in a burst of pleasure in the flesh clinging so tightly to his hardon.

It's a feedback loop that I never want to stop.

I cant my pelvis, taking him deeper and suddenly he's moving his hips again, but his hands are still on my fleshy mounds. His fingers playing a catch and release game with my n*****s.

He grows impossibly big inside me and then he shouts his release so loud my ears ring. It takes me over the edge again and I scream too. His name.

"Oliver!"

When he comes back from taking care of the condom, he doesn't get dressed, but joins me again on the bed. His hands explore my body, running over already sensitive skin and dipping between my legs with intent.

"Again?" I ask.

"I am nowhere near done with this gorgeous body." Delivered in that deep, masculine tone, it is both a sensual promise and a threat.

At some point, I slip into exhausted slumber only to wake sometime later with his rock-hard erection rubbing up and down my labia. My overworked c**t is swollen and super sensitive, and I can't help wanting him all over again.

"More?" I ask with sleepy disbelief.

Does this man ever go soft?

"As often as you'll let me."

My body thrills to his words and I say, "As often as you like."

He likes hearing that and shifts so his bulbous head is pressing against my entrance. "You might regret that offer," he warns.

"Never." I'll drown in the pleasure I find in his body tonight and do so willingly.

His growl is the only warning I get before he surges inside me and takes me on another wild ride that leads to yet another screaming o****m.

It doesn't surprise me when he makes good on his promise and wakes me twice more in the night. The man is a machine.

However, when I wake up in the early morning hours and his big body is still curled around mine? That shocks me.

I expected him to sneak off during the night. I have no personal experience with morning-afters and only know what I hear around the club. The one man I had s*x with before this was my husband. Our first morning-after was after our wedding.

Will Oliver expect me to make him breakfast? The idea doesn't bother me. In fact, I like the thought of feeding him and fall back to sleep planning the perfect morning-after menu in my head.