“Some,” he says, leaning down like he’s going to kiss me, but instead he runs his nose along my jawline. “Why? You want me to talk dirty to you?”
“I, uh...” He’s got me flustered as he grabs my hip, pulling me even closer. I shiver, feeling his warm breath on my skin. It’s like he’s breathing me in. “Well, I didn’t, but I kind of do now.”
He laughs. “Let’s go upstairs, and I’ll teach you all the dirty words you want.”
I hum, tilting my head as his lips trace along my cheek. “All of them?”
His breath is against my ear as he whispers, “Every single one.”
He doesn’t have to say that again.
Pushing away, I snatch ahold of his hand, grasping tightly as I drag him up the stairs. As soon as we reach his bedroom, he slams the door, shrugging off his coat again and tossing it onto the dresser.
It hits with a thud, something in the pocket.
I cast it a curious look but shake it off, distracted when he pulls a gun out from his waistband to set it aside. He reaches for me, tearing at my clothes, but I slap his hands away. Instead, I go for his pants, unbuckling them as I sink to my knees in front of him. Lorenzo stands still, not moving at all.
I pull his cock out and stroke it.
He’s already rock hard.
I don’t hesitate, bringing my lips right to the tip, my tongue swirling around the head before slowly, I take it into my mouth, his cock sliding down my throat.
“Fuck,” he growls, grasping the back of my head as I suck him. “That feels so good.”
Lorenzo’s hands tangle in my still-damp hair, his head tilting back and eyes closing. Soft groans escape his throat, and he stays like that for a moment, just enjoying it, letting me do what I want to do without saying another word.
It’s a few minutes—three, maybe four at most—before he pulls his hand from my hair, reaching down further to nudge my chin.
I look up at him.
He’s watching me now.
We lock eyes, and I keep sucking as he gently runs his fingertips along my face, caressing my hallowed cheek. His expression makes my chest tighten, a softness in his eyes as he tucks some wayward hair behind my ear. His breathing picks up, chest rising and falling faster as he swallows hard, the only signs that let on to him getting close. So close.
“Il mio piccolo dolce trombamica,” he says, his voice low and gritty. He cups my chin, thumb grazing the corner of my mouth, tracing my lips as they slide along his cock. “Vedere il mio cazzo tra quelle belle labbra è una fantasia che mi ha perseguitato dal momento in cui ci siamo incontrati.”
I have no idea what he’s saying, not a fucking clue, but the sound of those words sends sparks through me as they roll right off of his tongue. I stroke him faster, sucking harder, a smirk on his lips as his eyes again drift closed.
Once more, he tilts his head back, jaw going slack, as his hand again tangles into my hair.
He grips harder this time, though, fisting handfuls.
A few seconds pass before he bucks his hips, my nose pressing into his stomach as he holds my head still, fucking my throat. A few thrusts, as I gag, before I feel him spilling. I swallow, grasping his hips to brace myself, but breathing is becoming difficult.
I give him a few seconds, holding my breath, but my chest is tight and he’s not letting go, so I pinch his inner thigh. Hard.
He flinches, shoving away. I fall back onto my ass and inhale sharply.
“Christ, that hurt,” he says, rubbing the spot I pinched.
“Oh, quit whining,” I mutter. “I could’ve just bit you... or, you know, punched you in the balls.”
He glares at me when I say that, giving me an ‘I’d like to see you fucking try’ look, trying to be intimidating, but it’s kind of hard to take him seriously when his cock is just hanging out of his pants.
I smirk. “You know, you’d probably be a lot scarier if your junk wasn’t dangling all up in my face.”
Before the last syllable is completely out of my mouth, he steps toward me, grabbing his cock. “Keep talking shit, I’ll fucking slap you with it.”
Laughing, I throw my hands up defensively, warding him off as he swings it, shoving it right at my face, smacking me in the forehead.
“Oh my god,” I yell, still laughing, shoving him so hard he staggers. “What is wrong with you?”
He shrugs, tucking himself away, zipping his pants up. “You sucked the brain cells right out of my dick with that goddamn Dyson mouth.”
Turning, he starts to walk away from me when I grab his leg. “Whoa, where are you going?”
“To take a shower,” he says, trying to shake me off.
“Oh, hell no,” I say, tugging him back toward me. “I’m not done with you yet.”
He thrusts his leg out, damn near kicking me so I’ll let go. “What do you want?”
“Some reciprocation would be nice,” I say, “but I’ll settle for just knowing what you said in Italian.”
He pauses as he starts to undress, stripping out of his suit, like reciprocation may not only happen but that it might go even further. “I said I’ve been fantasizing about those beautiful lips wrapped around my cock since the moment I met you.”
“Seriously?”
He crouches down in front of me, wearing only his unbuttoned black slacks. “Yes, seriously, my sweet little trombamica.”
“What does that mean?”
A slow smile spreads across his face as he leans closer, kissing me softly, quick pecks on my lips, before he stands back up, saying, “Figure it out, Scarlet.”
“Figure it out, Scarlet,” I grumble mockingly as he goes into the bathroom and shuts the door, leaving me kneeling here. Rolling my eyes, I get up and head straight downstairs to where Leo and Melody still hang out in the living room.
Leo looks up at me when I appear. He has questions, I know, but I’m not in the mood to talk about those things, so I beat him to speaking.
“Hey, Leo, you know what a trombamica is?”
His eyes widen. “Uh, yeah...”
“What is it?”
“It’s a... friend.”
“A friend.”
“Yeah,” he says, “one with benefits.”
“A friend with benefits.”
“Just a, uh, more vulgar term.”
My eyes narrow.
Leo’s about to say something else, but I don’t give him the chance, walking back out and stomping upstairs. Unbelievable. I hear the water running in the bathroom and don’t even hesitate, opening the door and walking right in since he never locks anything.
Grabbing the shower curtain, I fling it open, glaring at a naked, soapy Lorenzo. “A fuck-buddy? Really?”
He stands beneath the spray, water cascading down his bare chest. It distracts me momentarily, detracting from my anger, as I follow the trail of water down his body.
“Didn’t take you long to figure it out, trombamica.”
I scowl, looking back at his face. He’s grinning. Smug son of a—ugh. Before I can respond, he grabs me, yanking me beneath the spray. I nearly trip over the edge of the tub as he pulls me into it with him, fully dressed.