“Hannah,” he starts again. “I didn’t know. This changes everything, but it’s not that I want to leave?”
“Why?” I ask. I want the ground to swallow me whole, so I don’t have to keep experiencing this anymore. It must be the most awful thing that’s ever happened to me. “You don’t have to stay just because of my Dad. I’ve ruined everything. You can just go.”
A pained expression passes over Marco’s face. “Bella, please don’t mention your father right now. Not when I’m, well, still a little… indisposed.”
At first, I don’t understand what he means by that, but a gesture draws my attention down – down to his lap, where I can still see a certain bulging shape. My eyes widen. Does that mean he’s still interested, despite everything…?
“I don’t think less of you,” Marco says. He reaches out and cups the side of my face – this time, with a gentle calm, not the passion of just a moment ago. “Actually, it’s the opposite. But your first time should be special.”
A thickness is clogging my tongue, my throat, a heaviness in the back of my eyes. “But it was going to be,” I say, stubbornly. “Don’t I get to decide what’s special?”
Marco smiles, almost looking as though he wants to bite his lip to keep from laughing. “You’re impatient,” he says, neither a rebuke nor a question, just a statement. “But trust me, mi bella. I will make it special for you. I will.”
My eyes widen again. Does that mean it isn’t over? That tonight, we can still…? “Now?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper as I dare to hope.
“Not tonight.” Marco shakes his head. “It needs time. Effort. Tomorrow, let me treat you. I will give you a whole day, a dedication to only your pleasure. We start on the streets of this beautiful city and I will make everything perfect for you.”
I can feel myself pouting. I suspect it might not be entirely attractive, but I can’t help it. “But…”
“But you’re impatient, yes.” Marco smiles, and shifts his hand, the pad of his thumb brushing over my lower lip. His voice turns lower, huskier, sparking something deep in the pit of my stomach. “So, tonight, I will give you just a little taste.”
“A taste?” I ask, but Marco makes no answer. At least, not a verbal one. His mouth covers mine, gentler this time, his hand simply guiding me in place rather than gripping me tightly. Before I have remembered to breathe again, he slips from my mouth and guides me onto my back, settling my head on the pillows.
I have no idea what to expect, and my confusion only grows when his hands go under my dress again, hooking into the sides of my panties. I thought he said we weren’t going to do that? Then he pulls them down, swiftly all the way over my knees and then off the ends of my feet, to be discarded on the floor, leaving me feeling stunned.
I’ve never been even this much naked in front of someone else, with nothing from the waist down. I feel so exposed! The thought of Marco’s eyes on me makes me want to squirm, and my legs automatically clamp together, as though I can hide by simply doing that.
“Relax,” Marco says, his hands drifting softly over my thighs. “Trust me.”
I do trust him, even though I find that I’m scared all of a sudden, self-conscious with all of the lights on. But his gentle touch persuades me to relax, and as he draws my thighs open again, one hand on each of my legs, I find that I don’t resist.
His eyes linger between my legs, and I feel so strange to know that he’s looking at me there, seeing me in my entirety, in a way that no one ever has. Not even myself. But if I have hang-ups about what he might see there, apparently Marco has no problem with it, because only a moment later he’s launching himself closer, so much so that I almost squeak in surprise, wondering why he needs to take such a close look.
It surprises me, even more, when I feel a touch – something unexpected, especially with his face so close to me. In fact, I look down and realize that his hands are still on my thighs, cupping each of them to keep them parted. So, then, what…?
The touch comes again, stronger this time, a movement across my lips down there, upwards and over them, making me shiver when it moves over a bundle of nerves. Something rough yet gentle, something wet, something –
His tongue.
Marco is licking me – again now – and the realization makes me burn red at the same time as it sends more jolts and sparks down low in my belly. His tongue moves again and again, not fast but inexorably, starting that long lick each time it finishes. I feel pleasure pooling inside me, sparks rising every time he moves over that one bundle of nerves, and I realize with even more chagrin that I must be getting wet – that he must be able to feel it – taste it.
Marco’s rhythm changes without warning, his tongue swirling in a circular motion, around and around those nerves, making me arch my back involuntarily. I barely know what I’m doing, and as he continues I hear a moan burst from my lips, shocking me. My eyes roll closed, and my hands clutch at the sheets for some measure of control, feeling pleasure building, and building inside me in such an unfamiliar way.
I can’t stop moving – bucking my hips in little movements up towards his face, gripping and twisting
