"I'm… afraid." It was the first honest thing Bianca had said to Roberto in almost ten years. It was more honest than her naked body in front of him, more honest than the highschool love they'd shared so many years ago. Those two words stripped her down to absolutely nothing, no barriers or fears, and let her be her true self with the only man she'd ever given her heart to.
Roberto heard it. The softly whispered words turning what would have been a fun one night stand with an old flame into something more, something with a life.
It wasn't just her body-so different from the rail thin girl he'd loved in high school with mild acne, wide rimmed glasses, and a bad case of shyness-the woman standing in front of him was grown, fully developed, and fully aware of her body and its effect on the opposite sex. Her breasts were heavy globes topped with dark brown areolas and stiff nipples. Her waist was smaller, shaped almost like a Coke bottle but not as pronounced. Her hips flared out and rounded, melding with thick thighs that made him groan just at the thought of them wrapped around him. Everything about her, right down to her pretty, red-painted toenails aroused him. But her words entranced him, made him think of not just sex, but a future, a wedding, kids, growing old together.
Roberto swallowed past the lump in his throat as he approached Binca and took both her hands in his larger ones, noting the slight tremor that ran through her. "So am I, querida."
Wide brown eyes met his, framed by thick black lashes. Tentatively she pulled her hand away from his and reached up to his face. Her index finger traced the scar he knew stretched from his temple to the end of his right eyebrow. Her eyes had been tracing the scar all through dinner.
Tears gathered in her eyes, shimmering in the dim light coming from the bathroom and the moonbeams coming through the open blinds. "I'm so sorry, Roberto. It was all my fault."
He didn't hesitate to wrap her warm body in a tight embrace, bring her naked flesh flush against his own. "Never," his voice was gruff, thick with emotion, "apologize. I do not consider this scar a mark of defeat, querida. I treasure it. It means that I was able to protect you."
He would never forget the night he'd gotten the scar. Bianca had been in danger. He had protected her. And for that action he had been scarred for life. Yet he would do the same as he did at that time; he would always throw himself in front of danger to protect the woman he loved, always put her needs above his own.
Soft lips pressed against his, mixed with salty tears. Roberto sighed against her lips, a feeling of peace settling low in him even as desire coursed through his veins. He pulled her closer, tilted her head to plunder her mouth with the same leisurely pace he would use to captivate her body.
She sagged against him, lips opening to his demanding tongue. It was the sweetest surrender, the best reunion. Her mouth still had a slight fruity taste, and he remembered Bianca used to love fruit gummies. That, at least, had not changed.
The bed was only a few feet from them, just a couple steps behind him. But Roberto wasn't ready for that yet. He didn't want this night to be over too quick. It was no longer just her body that he wanted, but something richer, deeper.
Slowly, he pulled away and broke the kiss. Half-lidded brown eyes looked at him curiously as he kissed her collarbone. Roberto swooped low and dragged his tongue against the swell of her breasts, smiling at the moan she tried to his behind her palm.
Carefully, he lowered himself to his knees, his lips still pressed to her flesh. Bianca's small hands went to his shoulders, gripping tightly as his tongue slid lower. Roberto captured one turgid nipple with his mouth and tongue before sliding lower still. Her low hiss was like music to his ears as Roberto dipped his tongue into her belly button.
A smile curved his lips as he bent and kissed her thighs open. "We gotta get to the bed," Bianca cried out softly as his tongue slid across her inner thigh.
"We are fine here," he assured softly as he slid his hand under her calf and lifted her right leg over his shoulder. "Just hold onto me."
Her fingers gripped his silky curls, nails digging into his scalp. Roberto blocked everything out but the tangy, sweet taste of her on his tongue, her cries like an angel's song to his ears. How long had it been since he'd heard her voice hoarse with passion? Felt her thighs quake around his head? Too long. Roberto had not realized how much he missed the act of lovemaking with a woman he actually loved. They weren't fucking like animals-though he knew they would-they were connecting.
"Please," Bianca moaned as she helplessly gyrated her hips, "Oh God. Please, Roberto."
He couldn't resist the plea in her tone or the slight catch in her voice. With far more calm than he felt, Roberto pulled back and gently lowered her leg. Bianca's hands were still on his shoulder, and instead of moving them away, she pushed.
He lost his balance and fell, legs stretched out in from on him, butt rubbing against the rough, hotel carpet. Roberto looked up, met her heated gaze. Bianca's pupils were wide and unfocused, her cheeks flushed a deep rose with her lips parted on panting breaths. She looked gorgeous and a little wild, just like he liked her.
Before he could push himself up, she crouched low, reached back, and guided his member into her heat. Roberto hissed at the connection, at the fire squeezing around him. It took all of his concentration not to just slam home inside her tight body and mark her as his. It was a primal urge, hot and foreign to him. "You are playing with fire, querida."
Bianca laughed, the sound coming out as a half-moan. Her neck snapped back sending her heavy curls over his sensitive thighs and balls. She gasped, her hair swayed, and Roberto grew thicker, harder, inside of her.
"Than let me be consumed by it," she whispered as Roberto gave up on his limited control and thrust up into her body, buried his head between the valley of her breasts. "I want to be burned."