Gripping my hand tightly, Ettore all but dragged me through the back exit, out to the waiting limo, opened the door and pushed me in. I stumbled, crawling on shaking legs to make room for him.

Ettore entered, closed the door behind him and, immediately, the car began to move. He sat back with his legs wide, lifting a hand to run his fingers through his hair before lowering his heated gaze to me, tugging at his tie. He threw it off and his disturbed growl of, “Privacy,” should have frightened me, but the way my pussy clenched said otherwise. When the partition between us rose, he narrowed his eyes and jerked his chin, and immediately, I crawled between his open legs. I didn’t wait for instruction. I knew what I wanted and I went for it. My clumsy fingers scrambled with his belt while he worked on the buttons of his shirt.

Earlier, I hadn’t really had time to look at him, but the moment he shrugged his shirt open, my fingers stopped working. Staring openly as the sun kissed torso, all I wanted to do right then was run my fingers down every dip and plane of the muscular wall of his chest. Unlike the few boys I had messed around with, there was a light smatter of hair over his pecs that centered down past his belly button, trailing even lower to somewhere much more exciting.

Lord.

No doubt about it.

This was the body of a man.

It was only when my eyes glanced over the reddened bandage at his shoulder, did I feel a short-lived pang of guilt.

Ettore wasn’t having my sudden change of mood. Impatient, he lightly smacked my hands away and reached for his belt, undoing it quickly. Deft fingers lowered his zipper. He separated the flaps of his black dress pants, reached inside, and pulled it out. His thick, angry looking cock sprang free and my lips parted.

My mouth watered at the sight of it. As if he could read my mind, he stroked the crown of my head, taking my hair between his fingers and pulling lightly, causing a yelp to escape me.

Holding a handful of my hair, he pulled hard enough to make my neck crane, exposing my throat and then, he brought his forehead to mine. “You said you were sorry. Did you mean it?”

My expression crumbled. “Yes. I’m sorry.” I was sure I sounded desperate. “I’m so sorry.”

His face darkened. His lip curled. And then, he pressed his parted lips to the apple of my cheek and spoke against it. “Prove it.”

With a stiff yank, I buckled forward over his throbbing cock. I lowered my face until the head of his dick touched my lips. I widened my mouth, sliding it over and sucked.

I found it strange. His skin was hot, but smooth. He tasted clean, but mildly salty.