Chapter Fifty-Six
I’m sure Angelo meant to go down on her, to lick and suck her body, but when she tugs the band of his sweatpants down, releasing his heavy, full c**k into her palm and kneels in front of him, he forgets what he was going to say and the only thing that leaves his mouth is, “Farfallina, prego.”
She holds him up, as if testing his weight, her palm small and pale beneath the ruddy girth of him; delicate fingers wrapping around pulsing, hungry flesh.
“Don’t worry, I know,” she whispers, her eyes heavy-lidded with arousal. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”
Madonna mia. She’s so sure of her feminine power.
Salvatore brushes the hair back from her face and I enjoying the play of the dying sunlight on her chestnut hair as she moves to take his c**k in her mouth now, while she fists Ang
