The Villa

back.
    "I don't like bossy, aggressive women."
    They dove at each other. Even as their mouths began a mutual assault she boosted herself up, wrapped her legs around his hips. "I want a bed this time." Her breath already tattered, she tugged at his shirt. "We'll try out the floor later."
    "I want you naked." He nipped his teeth into her throat and began to stagger up the steps. "I don't care where."
    "God, you have this incredible taste." She raced her lips over his face, his neck. "It's so basic." Her breath caught when he rapped her back against the wall at the top of the steps. Her fingers fisted in his hair. "This is just sex, right?"
    "Yeah, right, whatever." His mouth crushed down on hers. Using the wall to brace her, he began dragging her sweater over her head. "God. You're so built." He tossed her sweater aside, took his mouth over the soft swell of breast that rose above her bra. "We're not going to make the bed."
    Her heart hammered as he used his teeth on her. "Okay. Next time."
    Her feet hit the floor. At least she thought they did. It was hard to know where she was, who she was with as the geyser of greed erupted inside her. Hands were pulling at clothes; something ripped. Mouths ran hot over flesh. Everything blurred. Over the wild beat of blood she could hear her own whimpers, pleas, demands, a kind of mad chant that merged with his.
    She was already wet, already aching when his fingers found her. The violent glory of the orgasm ripped through her, molten gold release, so strong, so welcome she might have melted bonelessly to the floor.
    "Uh-uh. No you don't." He pressed her back against the wall and, riding on her thrill, continued to drive her. "I want you screaming. Go up again."
    She couldn't have stopped herself. Welcoming the burn, craving it, she let him take, empty her out until her mind was filled with the dark and the feral.
    And filled, she tore at him, whipped him past reason. She watched his eyes go opaque and knew it was she who blinded him. Heard his breath heave and tear, and thrilled that she could weaken him.
    "Now." Once more she anchored her hands in his hair and shuddered, shuddered as she poised on the next thin edge. "Now, now, now."
    When he plunged into her, she came again. Brutally. Her nails dug into the sweat-slicked slope of his shoulders as her hips pistoned. Lightning-fast. With his mouth fused to hers, he swallowed the small, greedy sounds she made. Fed on them as he hitched her up to give more. Take more.
    Pleasure careened through him, left him shattered, stupefied.
    He managed to hold on to her as both of them slid to the floor.
    Sprawled over him, her heart still racing, Sophia began to laugh. "Dio. Grazie a Dio. Decanted at last. No real finesse, but a fine body and excellent staying power."
    "We'll work on finesse when I'm not ready to howl at the moon."
    "Wasn't complaining." To prove it, she brushed her lips lightly over his chest. "I feel fabulous. At least I think I do."
    "I can verify that. You feel incredible." He blew out a breath. "I'm winded."
    "That makes two of us." She lifted her head, studied his face. "Are you finished?"
    "Not hardly."
    "Oh, good, because neither am I." She shifted, straddled him. 'Ty?"
    "Mmmm." His hands were already stroking up her torso. She was so smooth, he thought. Smooth, dusky, exotic.
    "We probably need to set guidelines."
    "Yeah." She had a pretty little mole on the curve of her left hip. A kind of sexual punctuation.
    "You want to get into that now?"
    "No."
    "Good. Me either." She braced her hands on either side of his head, leaned down. She brushed her lips at the corners of his mouth, teasing little sips. "Bed?" she whispered.
    He reared up, wrapped his arms around her. "Next time."
     
    Sometime around midnight, she found herself facedown on his bed. The sheets were tangled and hot, and her bones were limp as water.
    Even after so long a sexual drought it was hard for her to believe the human body could recharge as often, and at such intense power.
    "Water," she croaked, afraid now that she'd satisfied one craving, thirst would kill her. "I need water. I'll give you anything—wild, sexual favors—if you'll just give me a bottle of water."
    "You've already paid out the wild, sexual favors."
    "Oh, right." She groped over, patted his shoulder blindly. "Be a pal, MacMillan."
    "Okay, but where are we?"
    "On the bed." She sighed gustily. "We finally made it."
    "Right. Be right back." He staggered up, and since he'd been