She whimpered with gratifying eagerness, and with a smile of pleasure he pushed up the tee-shirt. The faint light from the moon showed her breasts in all their glory. True, she might be slightly built with almost no hips to speak of, but she had the breasts of a real woman. Full and rounded with big, pink nipples that were designed to be licked and teased.
As he proceeded to do now.
Charlie moaned and curled her fingers into his hair.
‘No,’ she gasped, not wanting the conversation to slip past, because she was so desperate to find out whether he would miss her as much as she knew she was going to miss him.
Riccardo ignored the protest. Actually, he was only vaguely aware that she had spoken at all. The rush of blood to his head and the fierce stirrings of his body cocooned him in a glorious bubble of pure sensation. The feel of her nipple against his tongue…the touch of her thighs as he impatiently shoved up her thin cotton skirt and pulled down her underwear…the dampness between her legs then as they obligingly parted for his questing hand…the throbbing nub of her clitoris as he roused it with his fingers. He continued to bombard her breasts with his mouth, sucking hard on first one nipple, then the next, while his own body surged to heights he couldn’t remember attaining.
‘Riccardo…stop…’ she pleaded, making no effort to pull away from him. In fact, just the opposite. ‘If you don’t, I won’t be able to stop myself…’ She tugged his hand, and before he could return to his devastating caresses Charlie pushed him onto his back. Her near-climax was sending waves of sensation racing through her body, making her movements frantic as she did away with the clothes separating their feverish bodies. Then she slid onto him and flung her head back, eyes shut, her breasts bouncing as she controlled the rhythm of their lovemaking, until he shuddered under her just as she reached her body’s nirvana.
She sagged forward, spent, and enjoyed the gentle touch of his hands on her breasts as he came down with her from his own personal peak of satisfaction.
‘Have I told you that you have beautiful breasts?’ Riccardo asked, and Charlie subsided onto him with a smile.
‘I believe you have. But please don’t let that get in the way of repeating yourself.’ She grinned and nuzzled him on his chin, loving the way the faint abrasive feel of his bristle felt against her smooth skin. She didn’t think that any of the boys in her circle of university friends had bristle. Ever since she had become involved with Riccardo, she had blithely lumped all her male acquaintances into some indistinct category with the heading ‘young and therefore immature’.
Of course, they would be, she thought guiltily. They were, after all, only eighteen. The same age as her. Not that Riccardo was aware of that little fact. She quickly shoved the thought to the back of her head and concentrated on the matter in hand—namely trying to find out how he felt about her. And not just the lust bit.
She clasped her fingers together under her chin and surveyed him seriously.
‘Will you miss me?’ she asked.
With her breasts squashed against his chest, and in the languorous aftermath of unbridled passion, Riccardo didn’t find it too hard to tell her that he would.
‘Not that I would call three days a lifetime,’ he teased, brushing back her hair.
‘I know it’s not a lifetime, but it’s a long time. I mean, we’ve been in each other’s company for weeks. It’s just going to be a little…odd, working here at the vineyard and not seeing you around and about.’