Perfect Match (Vice Club Nights #2)

12. Tori

Chapter twelve

Tori

A single shard of blinding sunlight sneaks through the gap in the heavy brocade curtains, illuminating Gio’s naked body lying prone in the bed beside me. Poor man is exhausted. Except for that one part of his body that seems to be permanently standing at attention.

A broad grin stretches my mouth wide with the memories of last night. The way he filled me, pushing my body over the edge into orgasm so many times that, somewhere in the early hours of the morning, I lost count. Turned on my side, I fold my hands together under my cheek and continue to rake my gaze hungrily over his ripped abs and muscled pecs. That body is the result of some seriously tough workouts.

Do I dare wake him with a surprise ? I wonder, gazing down at the source of so much of my pleasure overnight. He had no issue stirring me from sleep in the most delicious of ways. I squeeze my thighs together where a new flood of desire is pooling. My body is a little sore after the sexy workout it’s had; after all, it had been a long time since I was with a man.

Sadness pinches my heart when I remember that my last was Billy. I squeeze back the tears that spring to my eyes at the memory of the last time I saw my friend. It had been a usual Saturday night out drinking with my sister and a group of friends at our local pub. What wasn’t as common was that Billy had come back to my place after, but whenever he did, we’d share a bed. Sometimes just falling asleep, and sometimes, like that night, we’d have sex. It was fun, and the next morning, he kissed me on the forehead and left, saying he’d see me later.

Except later never came.

He died that day. And I never got to have another drink with him or hear him tell another one of his silly jokes or receive another of his funny GIFs that would ping on my phone at random times. He was a good guy, and I loved him as a friend.

I tip onto my back and stare up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. It's been weeks since I thought about Billy’s death, the whole reason I’m here, travelling through Europe, searching for something—or maybe just running away from my old life. Turning my head to the side, I examine the face of the man beside me; his profile is strong even in sleep. I like him, and I can admit he’s become part of my healing.

Meeting Gio at this point in my journey is exactly what I needed to move through these final stages of grieving for my friend. To soothe my final memories of Billy on that last night. Yet there’s a part of me that wishes I hadn’t met Gio now. If it was in New York instead of Italy, maybe we could be something more. Instead, we’re destined to be a moment in time. To burn brightly for one or two days before we move on. Me to the next city, and Gio to his busy life running his family company in Florence.

The thought sits uneasily in my chest, and I turn my head back to the ceiling as my next breath is released on a sad sigh. No matter how good last night was with Gio, the time and place are all wrong. I hug the sheet across my chest closer.

“That was a heavy sigh.” Gio’s deep, husky morning voice is even sexier than his daytime one. And kernels of desire reawaken my core. I turn on my side to face him. His eyes, with the slither of sunlight illuminating them, are like looking up at the sky on a perfect summer’s day.

I reach out to trail my fingertips down the centre of his chest. “I was just remembering last night.”

“And it was good?”

A smile teases my lips. “I wouldn’t have thought you were a man who needed his ego stroking.”

“What kind of man am I, then? And please don’t say the word stroking when we’re lying here naked.”

My fingertip reaches his belly button, and I draw featherlight circles around it. “I think you’re as confident in the bedroom as you are in a boardroom. Decisive. A man of action.” I move my touch lower to just above the tip of his fully aroused cock. “Highly skillful in translating your thoughts into words. Which is why I can’t fathom what you could possibly have against the word stroking. ”

“Nothing at all when it’s accompanied by actions.” He releases a shuddery breath as my finger skips up to draw an imaginary line from his crown to his base. A steel-hard rod encased in soft, supple skin. I venture lower over his balls, enjoying the control he’s giving me. But the second my nail drags against the sensitive skin beneath his ball sack, he springs to life, grabbing my wrist. He holds my hand suspended in midair while he pulls a deep breath into his lungs, his chest expanding fully before deflating again in a whooshed exhale.

In the blink of an eye, he rips the sheet off my body and has me pinned beneath him, my wrist still captured in the palm of his hand. My Brazilian jiu-jitsu training could have me free from his hold almost immediately. But the thing is, I don’t want to be anywhere else except here, watching to see what Gio’s next move will be.

I’m not disappointed when his head dips to my breast, his mouth sealing around the pebbled tip and sucking it hard, then grazing his teeth over the sensitive point before releasing it. He looks for my reaction.

Stormy eyes hold mine in a vortex of intense passion.

“Am I in trouble?” I gasp out through suddenly dry lips. My body’s internal thermostat is rising to dangerous levels.

“You are trouble,” he growls before treating my other nipple to the same punishment as the first.

“Fuck … that feels good.” This time when he stares down at me, he’s grinning.

“Do you know what will feel better?”

I shake my head wildly.

“This …”

Now, instead of sucking on my tits, he’s licking a path from the valley between them, down the centre of my body. A straight line that dips at my belly button but doesn’t stop. His mouth is on a mission with one goal—the bundle of nerves at the junction of my thighs. His shoulders stretch my legs wide, and when he scoops his hands underneath my butt and lifts me up, I become his own personal breakfast buffet. He devours me like a man starved in the desert for a month. Nibbling, sucking, and licking my tender flesh. My muscles, seemingly having learned to recognize his touch in the last twelve hours, are already tensing with the impending climactic release.

Rising up to meet his hungry mouth, I wrap my legs around his head. It’s similar to a triangle choke hold in BJJ but not a move I’ve ever tried in the past to keep a guy’s face buried in my naked pussy. And all the while, Gio continues to torment me with his tongue and mouth.

My own hands glide to my tits, massaging them roughly, accelerating the freight train of ecstasy flowing like lava through my veins. Taking me higher and turning me more frenzied as I scream his name over and over like a madwoman.

Until … my core muscles clench and the last breath I took is painfully trapped in my lungs. The powerful orgasm renders me speechless and incapable of thoughts. Those seconds of release are my entire world before I fall back to earth. Every ounce of energy has been sapped from my being, and I’m left feeling as weak as a newborn baby.

The tight grip I had on his head slackens, and my limp legs slip from his shoulders to the bed. Gio’s gaze smolders as he swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. His other hand is wrapped around his cock, stroking. There’s that word again, and watching Gio’s fist pump up and down is the perfect definition for me.

Flicking a glance back up to meet his, I read the question in his darkened irises.

An answering smile touches my lips, and in case he needs more, I add, “Do it. Paint me with your release.”

His fist tightens before he jerks harder and faster. A few more tugs and he’s covering my tits in thick streams of cum, just like I demanded. And when there’s nothing left, he falls back to the bed beside me.

“Fuck, Tori, you make me lose control.”

I’m only capable of a slow turn of my head to face him because, right now, I don’t have the energy to move more. “I know what you mean. I feel it too.”

Gio doesn’t return my smile. In fact, he doesn’t look happy at all. I get that. Everything we’ve done in this bed since I arrived yesterday seems to be moving too fast. It’s a sobering thought.

“Now, that was stroking. I think I might need another shower,” I joke while looking down at my messy chest and deliberately trying to lighten the mood.

His dimpled smile returns. “I don’t know, the idea of you walking around all day with my cum coating your skin sounds pretty hot.”

“That sounds like you might have some interesting fetishes, Mr. Barbieri.”

“You bet, and I’d enjoy discussing them with you, Ms. Jones.”

Something in his look tells me I might like that conversation, and I’m reminded that Charli has her interview at his friend’s private sex club tomorrow. It’s not such a stretch to imagine that Gio has visited the club, and I wonder what he’s done there.

Gio hops up. “Wait here and I’ll get you a towel.” He returns with a white washcloth and wipes me up before taking my hand and leading me to the shower.

***

All cleaned up, and I’m back in the bedroom, buttoning up my shorts, when Gio appears behind me in the mirrored reflection. He’s dressed in a linen shirt and cargo shorts, similar to what he wore the day we went to Capri, and looking just as sexy. I turn to face him, placing my hands on his shoulders while he automatically reaches for my hips.

“You’re not working today? Or is this what a businessman wears in Florence?” I ask, although I know he’s a designer-suit man to his very bones when he’s working.

“I’m not planning to work today. Because I’m hoping that you’ll agree to spend the day with me. There’s somewhere I’d like to take you.”

I’d assumed that Gio would have to work and that he’d only be free to spend time with me in the evenings. The fact that he cleared his busy schedule to spend today with me has me buzzing with the same level of excitement I felt when I rappelled fifty meters into the gushing waters of the canyon in the Swiss Alps.

“Somewhere you want to take me, that sounds mysterious. Count me in.”

“Great. If you’re ready, let’s go.”

I skip away to grab my small backpack from the chair where I dropped it last night and then spin back to face him. “Is what I’m wearing okay?”

He steps into my personal space and cups my jaw in his palm to tilt my face up to him. “Perfecto, bella. Perfecto.”

My heart skips a beat, then another, when he places a quick kiss on my lips.

Damn , Gio is dangerous to my heart based on the way his kisses make it pound. Again, I slip from his hold and return to the mirror under the guise of needing to pull my hair into a ponytail. But in truth it’s so I can catch my breath. It seems that every time he touches me or even stands close, my body turns into a needy mess.

Finally, I’m ready and following Gio to the private elevators, trying to keep a couple of feet between us so that our hands don’t somehow find each other. He swipes his card, and instead of selecting the lobby, he presses the button for one of the parking levels.

The doors open, and we step out to a row of luxury cars lined up like the who’s who of a Formula One grid. I’m still standing speechless when a red Ferrari convertible beeps and the lights flash, indicating that it’s just been unlocked.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I gasp out, then quickly cover my mouth. But it’s too late. Gio has already heard the words.

He turns, his brows drawn down. “Would you prefer a different car?”

“No, no.” The words are high-pitched with surprise; how could anyone not want to go for a drive in a red Ferrari convertible?

“A Ferrari is my dream car. I love them. And I can’t believe I’m going to get to ride in one.” I’m babbling and beginning to sound like a fan girl swooning over her favorite celebrity.

He grins again. “Get in, then, and if you want, you can drive it later.”

“No, I couldn’t do that. I’d probably damage it. Because we drive on the other side of the road in Australia.”

I inch over to the car, where Gio is standing with the passenger door open. I run my fingertips reverently along the shiny red edge of the windscreen. “This car is too pretty for even a scratch.”

Gio chuckles as I slide into the buttery-soft tan leather seat, which appears to have been sculpted for my body. But when Gio slides in beside me, my breath hitches because he looks like he was the kind of man Ferrari had in mind when they made this exquisite machine, a sophisticated wealthy Italian.

He starts the car, the powerful engine growling to life, and we’re off. Gio maneuvers the vehicle through the twists and turns of the parking garage, then out onto the even narrower city streets. His hands casually light on the wheel as he commands the vehicle with the expertise of an F1 racing driver.

How could this surprise adventure get much better ? I wonder, and in no time at all, we’re zipping through the Tuscan countryside, the wind whistling around us.

I tip my head back on the headrest, close my eyes, and enjoy the ride.