One Night With The Italian Doc: Unwrapping Her Italian Doc / Tempted by the Bridesmaid / Italian Doctor, No Strings Attached. Carol MarinelliЧитать онлайн книгу.
Her thighs were shaking and finally his hands went for her mistletoe panties and slid them down so slowly that Louise was squirming. Anton pulled her bottom right to the edge of the chair and then took one stockinged leg and put it over his shoulder and then slowly did the same with the other. Such was the greed in his eyes she was almost coming as finally he did kiss what had been under the silken mistletoe.
Louise looked down but his eyes were closed in concentration and her knees started to bend to the skill of his mouth but hands came up and clamped her legs down, so there was nowhere to go but ecstasy.
She felt the cool blowing of his breath and then the warm suction of his mouth and then another soft blow that did nothing to put the fire out. In fact, her hips were lifting, but his mouth would not allow them to.
‘Anton …’ She didn’t need to tell him she was coming, he was lost in it too, moaning, as her thighs clamped his head and she pulsed in his mouth. Anton reached for his cock on instinct. He was close to coming too. He raised himself up, and was stroking himself at her entrance. They were in the most dangerous of places, two people who definitely should know better.
Louise was frantically patting the dressing table behind her, trying to find a drawer, while watching the silver bead at his tip swelling and drizzling.
‘Here …’ She pulled out a foil packet and ripped it open. She slid it onto his thick length and there was no way they could make it to the bed, but Anton took a turn in the lucky chair and she leapt on his lap. His mouth sucked her breast through her bra as she wriggled into position.
She hovered provocatively over his erection, revel-ling for a brief moment in the sensation of his mouth and the anticipation of lowering herself. Anton had worked the fabric down and was now at her nipple, her small breast consumed by his mouth, and then his patience expired. His hands pulled her hips down and in one rapid motion Louise was filled by him, a delicious searing but, better still, his hands did not leave her. Her bedroom was like a sauna and the sheen on her body had her a little slippery but his hands gripped her and did not relent, for she would match his needs.
It had her feeling dizzy—the sensation of being on top while being taken. Louise rested her arms on his shoulders as he pulled her down over and over, and then his mouth lost contact with her breast as he swelled that final time. Her hands went to his head and she ground down, coming with him, squealing in pleasure as they hit a giddy peak. They shared a decadent, wet kiss as he shot inside her, a kiss of possession as she pulsed around his length and her head collapsed onto his shoulder.
Louise kissed his salty shoulder as her breathing finally slowed down.
She could feel him soften inside her and she lifted her head and smiled into his eyes.
‘Ready for bed?’
AFTER ONE HOUR and about seven minutes of sleep they woke to Louise’s phone at six.
‘I thought you were off today,’ Anton groaned.
‘I am, but I’m going Christmas shopping.’
‘At six a.m.?’
‘I want to get a book signed for Mum so I have to line up,’ Louise said. ‘Stay,’ she said, kissing his mouth.’ Get up when you’re ready, or you can come shopping with me.’
‘I’ll give it a miss, thanks.’
‘Have you done your Christmas shopping?’
‘I’ll do it online. The shops will be crazy.’
‘That’s half the fun.’ She gave him a nudge. ‘Come on.’
She went into the shower and Anton lay there, looking up at the ceiling. He had a couple of things to get. Something for the nurses and his secretary and, yes, he might just as well get it over and done with.
‘We’ll stop by my place and I can get changed,’ Anton said, as she came out of the shower.
‘Sure.’ Naked, she smiled down at him and lifted her hair. ‘Check me for bruises,’ she said, while craning her neck and looking down at her buttocks where his fingers had dug in, but, no, they were peachy cream too.
‘No need to check,’ Anton said, for he had been careful, knowing that she had her photo shoot coming up.
Neither could wait till it was over!
Louise dressed while Anton showered. She pulled on jeans and boots and a massive cream jumper and then she tied up her hair and added a coat.
Anton put on the clothes he had worn last night, though they were stopping by his place so he could get changed.
‘Ready to do battle?’ she asked, thrilled that Anton had agreed to come along with her. She was determined to Christmas him up, especially when they arrived at his apartment.
‘You really are a misery,’ Louise said, stepping in. She didn’t care about the view or the gorgeous furnishings in his apartment—what she cared about was that there wasn’t a single decoration. There were a few Christmas cards stacked with his mail on the kitchen bench but, apart from that, it might just as well have been October, instead of just over a week before Christmas.
‘Aren’t you even going to get a tree?’ Louise asked.
‘No.’
‘Don’t you have Christmas trees in Italy?’
‘Some,’ Anton said, ‘but we go more for nativity scenes and lights.’
‘You have to do something.’
‘I’m hardly ever here, Louise,’ Anton said.
‘It’s not the point. When you come home—’
‘I don’t like Christmas,’ Anton said, but then amended, ‘Although I am starting to really enjoy this one.’
‘What do you have to get today?’
‘I need to get something for my secretary,’ Anton said. ‘Perfume?’
‘Maybe,’ Louise said. ‘What sort of things does she like?’
Anton spread out his hands—he really had no idea what Shirley liked.
‘What sort of things does she talk about?’
‘My diary.’
‘God, you’re so antisocial,’ Louise said.
‘Oh, she likes cooking,’ Anton recalled. ‘She’s always bringing in things that she’s made.’
‘Then I have the perfect present,’ Louise said, ‘because I’m getting it for my mum. That’s what we’re going to line up for.’
It wasn’t just a book. The first twenty people had the option to purchase a morning’s cooking lesson with a celebrity chef. It was fabulous and expensive and with it all going to charity it was well worth it.
Celebrating their success at getting the signed books and cookery lessons, at ten a.m., having coffee and cake in an already crowded department store, they chatted.
‘If your mother can’t cook, why would you spend all that money? Surely it will be wasted?’
‘Oh, no.’ Louise shook her head. ‘If she learns even one thing and gets it right, my dad will be grateful for ever—the poor thing,’ she added. ‘He has to eat it night after night after night. I usually wriggle out of it when I go and visit. I’ll go over tomorrow and say I’ve just eaten, but you can’t do that on Christmas Day.’
‘How bad is it?’
‘It’s terrible. I don’t know how she does it. It always looks okay and she thinks it tastes amazing but I swear it’s like she’s put it in a blender with water added, burnt it and then put