Page 87 of Only One Tour Bus

I drag him to the first available gondola before he can change him mind. There’s a line, which doesn’t do anything for Callum’s mood, but aside from some dark looks, he stays in line with me. I’m surprised, but I won’t question the gift horse; I’ll just quietly hope it doesn’t hold an entire army of Greeks who’ll attack me.

When it’s our turn, Callum gently helps me down into the rocking boat and then gets in himself. I still half expect him to abandon me at this last viable opportunity, but he doesn’t and then we’re gently rocking toward the Grand Canal. We weave through narrow canals and under bridges that have stood for centuries.

“You want to take a selfie right now, don’t you?” Callum asks as we float past a particularly picturesque street.

“No. I am just fine taking pictures of the buildings from here. Because I am being in the moment.” The last word has a bit of a bite. Because it’s a lie, but I don’t want to push Callum.

“Well, that’s not true.”

“It’s totally not. Smile.” I turn the camera around and snap the picture before I can stop myself.

“Feel better?”

I exhale, from all the exertion of holding in my selfie-instincts. “So much better.”

The ride ends with multiple selfies and some shots Callum took of only me (and a lot that I took of only him). And plenty of Venice, of course.

After, we stop at the first Italian restaurant we come to for dinner. We almost run into Emilio and Rebecca, but I pull Callum into an alcove and kiss him to avoid them. Because kissing Callum is never a chore. The two of them together suggests a little tour romance of their own, so I don’t think we have to worry about them wanting to hang out.

When we get back to the hotel, there’s no awkward wondering about who’s going to sleep where. Callum follows me straight up to my room and then into it.

Before the door fully closes, my dress is on the floor, and Callum’s shirt is on my bedside table. A few minutes later, my bra and underwear are on the TV and Callum’s pants are thrown on the antique chaise.

I shove Callum down on the same couch, kissing my way down his chest as I get on my knees in front of him, enjoying the feel of his skin under my lips. His muscles contract with every touch, and I feel the same rush of power as I always do, seeing my effect on him.

Greedy for it, drunk off it after all the time we spent together not touching, I want more. So I take his cock into my mouth with no warning. His hips shoot off the couch and deeper into my mouth as Callum groans from above me.

I work my mouth up and down on him, licking a few times to get it wetter, as his breathing gets choppier. The muscles of his thighs and abdomen tighten when my hands join my mouth to fully cover his erection.

“Not without you coming first,” Callum growls. He tugs on my arms and before I can protest, I’m sitting on the couch with Callum on his knees in front of me.

He roughly grabs my thighs, and pulls them over his shoulders, and it’s all I can do is throw my head back to the couch as he slides his tongue against my clit. He slowly works his fingers around my vulva, then presses into it suddenly, making me arch my clit farther onto his mouth, and pushing his fingers deeper into me.

“Are you ready for me?”

“Yesyesyesyes.”

“I don’t think you sound very convincing.”

“Do me already!” I yell, the beginning of the sound complaint from the neighbors.

“That is slightly more convincing, but I remain doubtful.” He goes back to licking me like a I’m gelato and it’s summer in, well, Italy.

I writhe under him as he masterfully gets me closer to orgasm. And then pulls back to kiss all the skin around where I want him, just to get me back to the edge again. And then again and again until I’ve fully lost any semblance of rational thought. Every second I change from loving and hating the man giving me equal parts pleasure and torture.

Finally, he gets up and sits next to me on the couch, his lips shining in the moonlit room. He reaches into his pants’ pocket where he apparently put a condom earlier, and he puts it on. He pushes into me, pressing me horizontally onto the couch. Even though I’ve been primed with his tongue and fingers, I still feel a pleasurable stretch as he enters.

All the way in, he pauses, letting me savor the sensation as he kisses me. I can taste myself on him, and I moan into his lips. His hands tangle in my long hair, causing a slight sting. He starts thrusting in and out, but then he stops.

“What’s happening? Why did you stop?” I ask.

“This couch is too damn small,” he growls, sending shoots of electricity to my clit. Because that voice is so sexy. My muscles tighten around him in response, and his cock has an answering throb inside me.

“Shit.” He throws his head back and closes his eyes as he freezes. Then he snaps his head back down again. “Hold on,” he commands.

Before I can ask for what, but after I grab on to his shoulders, he picks me up off the couch as he stands. He lifts me easily, staying inside me as he takes the few steps to the window. Then he pulls out for as long as it takes to turn me around and bend me over the table in front of the window.

“Look out at Venice. Beautiful, but it’s not as beautiful as you,” he growls. The city lights shine from our viewpoint, but I barely see any of it when Callum enters me again. My eyes immediately shut at the pleasurable sensation, view wasted on me.