A Thousand Paper Cranes
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathless, foreheads pressed together, lungs heaving. Emiliano’s hands trembled where they cupped her face, his eyes dark and intense.
“Alessia,” he murmured, her name a prayer on his lips. “Tell me you feel this too. Tell me I’m not alone in this.”
Alessia closed her eyes, resting her cheek against his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat anchored her, a lifeline in a sea of uncertainty. “You’re not alone,” she whispered, the words torn from some hidden depth of her soul. “I feel it too.”
They stood there for a long moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the truth of their feelings hanging heavy and unspoken between them. When they finally turned back toward the villa, hand in hand, nothing between them would ever be the same.
The walk back to the villa passed in a haze of moonlight and charged silence. Alessia’s hand remained clasped tightly in Emiliano’s, his thumb tracing lazy circles against her knuckles that sent shivers skittering up her spine. Anticipation hummed beneath her skin, a low thrum of want that drowned out the voice of reason whispering in the back of her mind.
They slipped inside the villa, the sounds of revelry long faded, replaced by a heavy stillness broken only by the distant hum of cicadas. The house was dark, their path to the bedroom illuminated only by the silvery moonlight filtering through the windows.
Alessia’s heart hammered against her ribs as they climbed the stairs, each step bringing them closer to the privacy of their shared room – and the inevitability of what would happen there. Her skin felt too tight, her clothes abrasive against her hypersensitive flesh. She could feel Emiliano’s gaze on her, hot and hungry, as he trailed a step behind her, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back.
They reached the bedroom door, the silence stretching between them, heavy with unsaid desire. Alessia fumbled with the handle, her fingers suddenly clumsy, her breath hitching in her throat. Emiliano’s hand closed over hers, steadying her, turning the knob with a soft snick. The door swung open, revealing the room bathed in moonlight, the bed a shadowed invitation in the center.
Alessia stepped inside, her legs trembling, and turned to face Emiliano. He crowded in behind her, his presence a tangible force in the small space. The door clicked shut, and suddenly they were alone, cocooned in the quiet intimacy of the room.
“Alessia.” Her name was a low rumble on Emiliano’s lips, rough with want. He reached up, his fingers skimming along her jawline before tangling in her hair. His touch was gentle, reverent, a sharp contrast to the intensity burning in his eyes. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his breath brushing her lips. “Tell me this isn’t what you want, and I’ll walk away right now.”
Alessia’s breath hitched, her fingers curling into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. “Don’t you dare,” she whispered, her voice a low rasp. “I want this, Emiliano. I want you.”
The words seemed to snap the last thread of Emiliano’s control. He closed the distance between them in a single stride, his lips crashing down on hers in a blistering kiss that stole the air from her lungs. There was nothing slow or tentative about this kiss. It was all heat and hunger, teeth and tongues clashing in a desperate bid for dominance.
Alessia melted into him, her body molding instinctively to his. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, tugging the hem free from his trousers and pushing it off his shoulders. Emiliano shrugged it off, his lips never leaving hers, his hands already reaching for the zipper of her dress.
The rasp of the zipper lowering was loud in the quiet room, the sound sending a shiver down Alessia’s spine. Emiliano’s knuckles brushed against her spine as he dragged the zipper down, each touch a brand against her sensitive skin. The dress pooled at her feet in a whisper of silk, leaving her bare save for the scrap of lace covering her sex.
Emiliano broke the kiss, his chest heaving, his eyes dark and wild as they raked over her. “Cristo, Alessia,” he breathed, his voice raw with desire. “Sei bellissima.” He reached for her, his hands spanning her waist, lifting her easily and depositing her on the bed.
Alessia fell back against the cool sheets, her breath catching at the predatory gleam in Emiliano’s eyes as he crawled over her. He straddled her hips, his thighs bracketing hers, his erection a hard ridge against the wet heat of her core. His hands skimmed up her ribs, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts, tracing the lace edge of her bra.
“Please, Emiliano,” Alessia whimpered, her back arching, offering herself up to his touch. “Touch me.”
Emiliano obliged, his fingers deftly unclasping her bra and peeling the cups away. The cool air of the room washed over her breasts, her nipples tightening into hard peaks. Emiliano’s breath hissed out between his teeth, his gaze locked on the sight. “Fucking perfect,” he growled, lowering his head and sucking one taut bud into his mouth.
Alessia cried out, her fingers weaving into his hair, holding him close as he lavished attention on her breasts, alternating between sharp nips and soothing licks that had her writhing beneath him. His hands were everywhere – skimming down her flanks, squeezing her hips, tracing the sensitive seam where thigh met groin.
“Emiliano, please,” Alessia panted, her hips rocking restlessly, seeking friction against the hard length still trapped behind his zipper. “I need more. I need to feel you.”
Emiliano lifted his head, his lips swollen and glistening, his eyes black with want. “Patience, cara,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her sternum, then began trailing lower, his lips skimming over her stomach, her navel, the jut of her hipbones.
His fingers hooked in the waistband of her panties, dragging them down her legs with deliberate slowness, his lips following the path they took. Alessia’s breath caught in her throat as he settled between her thighs, his broad shoulders forcing her legs wide.
“So fucking wet for me,” Emiliano groaned, his breath ghosting over her swollen folds. He ran a single finger down her slit, parting her, circling her entrance with a teasing pressure that had her hips bucking off the bed. “Is this all for me, Alessia? Did pretending to be mine get you this soaked?”
Alessia whimpered, her hands fisting in the sheets, her head tossing on the pillow. “Yes,” she gasped, her voice raw with need. “God, yes. Please, Emiliano, stop teasing me. I need your mouth on me. Make me come.”
Emiliano didn’t need to be told twice. He sealed his lips over her clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth with a pressure that had her seeing stars. Alessia cried out, her thighs trembling, her hips rocking instinctively into his touch. He worked her with lips and tongue and teeth, his fingers thrusting into her clenching heat, curling to rub against that secret spot inside her that had her vision whiting out.
He drove her up and up, until she was hovering on the knife’s edge of release, her body strung taut as a bowstring. “Emiliano,” she gasped, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on his shoulders. “I’m close, so close. Don’t stop.”
Emiliano redoubled his efforts, his tongue lashing her clit with firm, relentless strokes, his fingers fucking into her with a twisting motion that dragged a low, keening moan from her throat. The tension snapped with a suddenness that stole her breath, pleasure crashing over her in a searing wave that dragged a scream from her lungs. She came hard, her body shaking, her thighs clamping tight around Emiliano’s head as she rode out the aftershocks.
He worked her through it, his touch gentling as she slowly drifted back to earth. When he pulled back, his chin was glistening with her release, his eyes dark with a fierce, primal satisfaction. He crawled up her body, claiming her mouth in a filthy kiss that tasted of her pleasure.
Alessia could feel the hard line of his erection pressing against her hip, a reminder of his own unfulfilled need. She reached for him, her fingers fumbling with his belt and zipper, shoving his trousers and boxers down his hips. His cock sprang free, hot and heavy in her hand, the thick length pulsing with every beat of his heart.
“Fuck, Alessia,” Emiliano groaned, his hips jerking into her touch. “Your hand feels so good.” He allowed her a few strokes, his breath hissing between his teeth, before he batted her hand away. “Not like this,” he rasped, reaching for his wallet and extracting a condom. He tore the foil open with his teeth, sheathing himself with shaking hands. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”