bed, he had some ice cubes wrapped in a napkin and a wet towel. “Open your legs.”
She obeyed, grinning.
“It’s not funny,” he growled as he gently cleansed her with the wet towel. He winced when the cloth absorbed her blood. Dio, how badly had he hurt her? He was afraid he’d ruptured her insides pretty bad. “Does it hurt so much, piccola?” he asked her, worried sick.
She touched his face gently, running her fingers in his hair. “No. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
The smile she gave him was so sweet he felt even more guilty. “Really. It’s okay. Just a scratch.”
He pressed the ‘ice-pack’ between her legs. “Hold it there for a while.”
She clamped her legs together and made a face. “It doesn’t feel good. My pussy was on fire and now it’s ice-cold.”
“Valenna, it’s not funny,” he warned, but his lips twitched, holding back a grin.
“What would you have told the doctor anyway? That you’re so well-hung you made my poor virgin kitty hemorrhage?”
He looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. Then he chuckled.
He sat beside her, rested his back on the headboard and lifted her carefully onto his lap, cradling her. A fist seemed to be squeezing his heart. He felt queasy from seeing her blood, guilt ripping through him. But she was so gutsy. No hysterics. A rare breed. A fucking great lay, too. Dio , he couldn’t remember ever coming so hard inside a woman’s body like he did with her.
It was an incomparable experience.
He pulled the comforter over them.
She snuggled onto him like a cat, rubbing her cheek on his chest. “Uhmmm, this is nice. Very nice.”
He kissed her hair, inhaling her scent now redolent with the musk of her spent arousal. His hand caressed her ass cheek under the sheets, gently running his palm on the smooth length of her leg.
She made more of those purring noises, her nails scratching the length of his arm idly.
His insides were tied into the tiniest knots. He couldn’t remember ever feeling like this, like he had found the car of his dreams and he was able to test-drive it, but it belonged in a museum, not to be owned by anyone but to be admired by many.
Merda, his analogy was the worst. But a racer’s vocabulary was only limited to his area of expertise. His passion had revolved in car-making since he came to realize he had inherited a car-manufacturing empire. But whatever, all he knew was that one drive around the race track in this car particular wasn’t enough. He had to have more laps. So much more. Enough for ten grands prix.
He was really losing it. But he succumbed to it. “Piccola?” he whispered.
“Uhmm?”
“Can I make another bid?’
“For what?”
“For an extension.”
“Of what?”
“Of this.”
She looked up at him. He met her eyes. He could drown in those amber depths if he was not careful.
“You want more of me?”
He swallowed. “Much, much more.”
She fell quiet, just staring at him.
“Why?”
“Because…” He swallowed hard again. “Because you’re so beautiful and funny and so fucking delicious I gotta have more. I’m starving for more.”
“You just had a hefty meal.”
“Not enough. Not nearly enough, cara .”
“Do you have more tips to teach me?”
The mention of tips nearly made him want to roar in her face. Just the thought of her using her newfound knowledge in sex on any other man or men made him want to commit a massacre.
“Say yes, Valenna,” he grated out.
She touched his face. “You’re not asking me nicely, Gianfranco.”
He clenched his jaw. “If I’m going to be teaching you more tips, I want you to apply them all to me first.”
She grinned and lifted her head to kiss him. Her tongue drove inside his mouth. Blood surged to his semi-hard cock again which was momentarily deflated by the sight of her blood.
“ Cara …”
“Yes.”
He exhaled a sigh of relief.
She sucked on his lower lip, pulling it gently then releasing it.
She gifted him with another