Dirty Lies

FALLING

Skylar woke up looking like a sleepy kitten, and I turned to brush her messy hair from her face so I could kiss her skin. Christ, she smelled good even upon waking up, faintly of that shampoo in her bathroom.

"Mmmm, how long have you been up?" she asked, burrowing into the covers and pillow. Her voice sounded gravelly and tired.

We'd been up late talking about everything from the new Dr. Who series to debating whether Wikileaks or Woodward and Bernstein had more of an impact on American history. We'd also fooled around, and I'd teased her all night, giving her two orgasms with my fingers. She'd stopped me from tasting her, which drove me wild with pent-up need.

"For about an hour. Since the sun came up."

It was seven in the morning. I was sitting in Skylar's bed reading one of her books. In Cold Blood by Truman Capote. Something I'd always wanted to read.

She peeled back the sheet and duvet and made her way to the bathroom. "Great book. Wanna borrow it?"

"I'd love to, thanks," I said, calling after her, captivated by her naked ass.

When she came back into the bedroom we kissed. She tasted like mint and smelled like the orange blossom perfume that I loved. She must've spritzed some on just now.

I shut the book, setting it on the nightstand, then kissed her more. I couldn't stop kissing her. Of course, I was hard again. What I really wanted was to be inside her, but didn't want to pressure her. She was close, so close, to letting her guard down.

I wondered if I would be in love with her by the time she did.

The thought was shocking, making me slow our kiss. Could I be falling in love? Did love happen just like that—when one least expected it, at the worst possible moment?

"Hey," I whispered. "You didn't let me reciprocate last night."

She smiled. "You did. I love when you touch me."

"But I want to taste you. Please?"

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. "Wait. Let me take this off." she wriggled out of her tank top. I practically dove for her breasts, sucking on one nipple until it tightened in my mouth then turning my attention to the other as she made little moaning noises.

"My panties. Off."

I sat up and grinned, tugging her underwear down and tossing them aside when they were free from her legs. "I love it when you tell me what to do."

She opened her legs wide. Her skin was the color of cream, the hue of the sensual women I'd seen on Renaissance frescoes in churches back home. When I scanned her body, my gaze stopped between her legs.

"Bella, bella, bella," I whispered, looking at her with adoration and stroking her inner thighs. "You have such a beautiful pussy."

Skylar gasped, and then giggled. "Oh my God. Did you really just say that? No one has ever said that to me. I didn't think men actually said things like that."

"I said it, and I meant it." Leaning forward, I pressed my mouth into the smooth skin above her bellybutton, and she shuddered with pleasure as I gently bit her smooth skin. While I touched and kissed down her body, a trail of goosebumps sprang up in my wake. Her orange blossom scent was both intoxicating and familiar, and I realized why I loved the way she smelled.

It made me remember springtime at my grandparents' citrus grove back in Italy when I was a kid.

Skylar smells like home...

I closed my eyes and nuzzled her flesh, awash in pleasures past and present. I couldn't get enough of her. I slipped a finger inside her tight wetness, then knelt to look at her beautiful body.

"You feel so good, amore mio." I faintly registered I'd started calling her such an intimate name. "So fucking incredible."

I withdrew my finger and parted her folds, bowing my head to her. She moaned and put her hand on my head. She still seemed a little hesitant when my tongue touched her most sensitive spot.

"Do I taste okay?"

Circling her with my tongue, I teased the entrance to her core with my fingertip, then licked in the same place. I lifted my head and grinned. "More than okay, mia bella ragazza. Delizioso. Delicious."

She inhaled loudly and grabbed my hair by the fistful. Bit by bit, I slid my finger deep inside of her, tantalizing her, moving slowly. The tip curved slightly upward as her hips tilted and bucked. She pressed against my mouth, getting wetter by the second.

"Another, Luca. Put another finger inside."

I pressed my forehead to her thigh and stopped licking her for a few seconds to steel myself, for my need was so great. Extreme, even.

I wanted something other than my fingers inside of her. And yet, I'd made a promise. She'd be the one to decide when we'd finally have sex.

I had to keep this promise, even if it killed me.

Never had my cock been so hard and never had I wanted any woman this much. I slipped another finger in, and the erotic connection between us slowed, expanded, exploded.

My thumb rubbed her clit slowly, forcefully. I moved my fingers inside of her, my chest tightening, aching, from blind need. Watching her flutter her eyes shut, her mouth in a perfect 'O' shape, was enough to make me beg her in desperation.

Beg for sex, for love, for her soul.

"Is this okay? You're tight, amore mio."

"I love it," she whispered. "And I love it when you call me amore mio."

I lowered my mouth again to her wetness. With several forceful flicks of his tongue, Sky cried out, loud. It didn't take much to make her come, and the release was so beautiful to feel and watch. Her flesh contracted and pulsed.

She tugged me up by my hair and put her arms around me. "Never... I've never come that way..."

Her voice trailed off, and I felt her heartbeat. Erratic and fast. Or maybe it was mine. Pressing my lips to her forehead, I fantasized about us staying in bed all day, in our own sex bubble.

"Tu sei un angelo perfetto."

Skylar opened her eyes and looked around, dazed. "What does that mean?"

"Sorry, amore mio. You are a perfect angel."

After several drowsy moments in my arms, she sighed. "I need to get to work."

She showered, and I paused before putting on my shirt and shorts from the previous night's yoga class. Should I join her in the shower? No, that would only distract her. I'd shower when I got home. In her small kitchen, I made a pot of weak American coffee and then sat on the sofa reading In Cold Blood.

Skylar came out wearing a silk, long-sleeved cream-colored blouse and a camel-colored skirt. Her flats matched her skirt and her hair was pulled back into a casual ponytail, her pouty lips pink with gloss.

Her beauty stole the breath from my lungs.

I didn't deserve such a sweet, innocent woman.

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