Page 94 of Valentino

"You didn't lock the door," he says.

I slide my hands up to his shoulders, rising onto my toes, and press my mouth to his. A sound escapes me that I couldn't stop if my life depended on it. He swallows it. His tongue strokes against mine. One hand slides up the wet curve of my spine while the other grips my ass hard.

I bite his lower lip and feel his fingers dig into my hip bone, a sharp reflexive squeeze that sends a bolt of heat straight through my center.

I kiss down his jaw. His throat. I drag my tongue along the tendon there, feeling the vibration of the low sound he makes.

My knees bend. I kiss the center of his chest, the edge of the tattoo where ink meets unmarked skin, the flat plane of his stomach where the muscles tighten under my mouth. Water streams down his body and into my eyes. I blink it away and keep going, pressing my lips to the cut of his hip, the trail of dark hair below his navel.

His hand finds the back of my head. His fingers thread through my wet hair and hold, and when I look up at him from my knees the expression on his face guts me.

He looks wrecked. Jaw locked, nostrils flared, eyes black, burning and fixed on me. Water runs down his face and drips from his chin. His chest heaves with each breath, and the hand in my hair trembles. Trembles.

I wrap one hand around the base of him. He's thick and impossibly hard and the sound he makes when I tighten my grip is guttural, ripped from somewhere deep in his chest.

"Amanda." My name in his mouth is like a prayer and a warning in the same breath.

I hold his gaze and lower my mouth to him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Valentino

Her mouth closes around me and every thought I've ever had vacates my skull like a building on fire.

Warm. Wet. The pressure of her tongue running flat along the underside. Water streams down her face, plastering her hair to her cheeks. She doesn't pull back. Just takes me deeper with her eyes half-closed and a sound rising from her throat that vibrates straight through my cock and into the base of my spine.

I brace one hand against the tile wall.

She pulls back to the tip, swirls her tongue, then sinks again. Deeper this time. Her throat constricts and she gags, a wet choking sound that echoes off the shower walls. Her hand wraps around what her mouth can't reach, fingers slick with water, and she strokes in rhythm with her head.

I look down. That's a mistake.

"Fuck." The word comes out broken, a sound I don't recognize from my own mouth. My hips jerk forward involuntarily and she takes it, her nails digging into my thigh as she steadies herself on the wet tile.

Both my hands find her head. I'm threading my fingers through her soaked hair, gripping, holding her still while my hips push forward again. She moans around me, loud enough that the shower can't drown it. She's looking up at me from her knees like she's been built specifically to destroy me.

"That's it," I tell her, my voice scraped raw, unrecognizable. "Just like that. Don't fucking stop."

Every time I talk, she moans.

I pull her head forward, slow, controlled, feeding myself into her mouth until I feel the back of her throat, and she gags again. She swallows around me, and I have to close my eyes because watching her do this is going to end me in thirty seconds.

"You know how long I've thought about this?" My grip tightens in her hair. "About your mouth? About putting my cock between those perfect fucking lips?"

She whimpers. Her free hand slides up my thigh, nails scraping the skin, and she takes me deeper on her own. I feel the vibration of her moan travel through me like a current.

My head falls back against the tile. The impact is sharp, grounding, and I need it because the rest of me is dissolving. Steam fills my lungs. The water is too hot. She is too good. Her rhythm is relentless, her mouth working me with a precision that shouldn't be possible while she's gagging and moaning.

"Goddamn it." I thrust forward, both hands locked in her hair, guiding her head while I fuck her mouth. She takes every stroke. Meets every push with a sound that tells me she's savoring this.

"I'm going to come on your face. Open your mouth. Keep it open."

She pulls off with a wet gasp, her hand replacing her mouth, stroking fast, her grip tight and perfect. Her mouth opens. Her tongue slides out, swollen and waiting.

Everything in me detonates.

The first pulse hits her tongue, and the groan that rips out of me is guttural, animal, something dragged up from a place I didn't know I had.