Selena Kitt - Letters to the Baumgarters

But we’d never dared to do it like this, in the daylight, in plain sight. I usually felt like a naughty teenager, sneaking around and hiding our lust, but this was beyond daring-it was dangerous.

I loved it.

“Lick it,” I begged, sliding my leg up over his shoulder to give him better access. He nudged my panties aside and did just as he was told, his mouth working sweet, hot magic between my legs. My clit throbbed against his tongue, my nipples hardening under my blouse. I rubbed my own breasts, grazing them with my nails through the material, sending hot tingles down between my thighs.

“Oh god!” I cried when he grabbed my other thigh, pulling both of my legs over his shoulders. I looked down and could only see his curly head and the lust in those striking blue eyes on mine, his mouth fastened over my pussy. “Oh my god! Nico! Oh! Oh!”

I was coming, just like that, flooding his mouth, my clit beating time, like a hummingbird’s wings, against the lash of his tongue. He moaned softly, his fingers digging into my ass, when he felt the buck of my hips, the arch of my back.

“I have to have you,” he croaked, his face shiny with the juices from my pussy as he looked up at me, still on his knees, his eyes filled with something-a cross between desire and worship-that made me grateful he was still supporting me, because my knees suddenly felt weak.

When he shifted and stood, pressing me against the wall, I glanced down the alleyway, mindful now that we might be seen. I saw someone walk past, close enough I could tell it was a man pushing a cart, but he didn’t glance toward us. The other way was a dead end, but there were doorways all along the alley, backs of shops, and owners or employees could come out of any one of those doors.

“Nico, wait,” I murmured, feeling him fumble for his zipper, but once his cock was free, I truly couldn’t resist. The hard length of him pressing against my thigh as he kissed me was pure temptation and I found him with my hand, feeling him swell as I began to stroke him. He moved his hips, seeking entrance, but I had other ideas.

“Ohhh Mio Dio! ” he moaned as I sank to my knees for him, the cobblestone cold and unforgiving, but I didn’t care. I sucked the thick, mushroom head of his cock, feeling his hand moving through my hair, pushing himself further into my throat. I let him thrust deep and hard, let him use my mouth for his pleasure, my fingernails grazing his balls, coaxing the cum I knew was boiling there to the surface.

“No, no, no,” he cried, making a fist in my hair and pulling me back. I looked up at him, panting with lust, my eyes half-closed, my hand tucked between my legs, rubbing at my aching clit.

“Please,” I whispered.

That was all I had to say. He stood, turning me around roughly and shoving me up against the wall. His hands roamed over my ass as he pulled my hips back, bending me at the waist so he could take me from behind. I braced myself, hands splayed on the brick, waiting for him to impale me.

“Play with yourself,” he ordered, pulling me back into the saddle of his hips, his cock an iron rod between my ass cheeks.

“Please,” I said again, but I reached down to touch myself, my clit pulsing under my fingers.

I heard a noise behind us and turned my head to look but Nico grabbed my hair, pressing my cheek to the wall as his cock slid into the wet, waiting shelter of my pussy. I prayed it was just a cat, but then he was fucking me and I forgot everything.

He grabbed onto my breasts, rubbing them through the silky material of my blouse, his cock a driving piston between my thighs. Already in heels, I went up on my toes, wanting all of him, deeper, harder. He fucked me so hard it hurt, and still I wanted more, the motion jarring, shoving me against the brick, rattling my pelvis, my breasts swaying in his hands.

“Don’t stop,” I begged, hearing the panting of his breath in my ear, feeling sweat trickling down the middle of my back underneath my bra strap, knowing he must be close. “Make me come! Oh fuck, Nico, please make me come again!”

He grabbed my thigh and lifted it, spreading me wide and pushing himself deeper inside of me, making me howl like an alley cat in heat. My fingers worked furiously against my clit, rubbing faster than Aladdin looking for that elusive genie, the anticipation of the wish almost better than its fulfillment.

Almost.

“I’m gonna come!” I cried, my body stretched taut, something in my belly poised and ready to spring. “Oh now! Now, now, now!

My pussy clamped down on his cock, spasming around his swollen length, a wet, velvet trap. He cried out at the sensation, grabbing my breasts and squeezing hard, his hips driving in deep, thrusting uncontrollably.

“Oh mio Cara, mio amore, ” he whispered endearments into my ear, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face into my neck.

Self-conscious now, I pulled my skirt down, the slick slide of his cum caught only by the panties now bunched between my thighs. Nico zipped his pants, still breathing hard, and turned me to face him, kissing me deeply. I could taste myself on his tongue.

“You’re a naughty girl.”

“Me?” I gave a throaty laugh. “This alley was your idea.”

“I can’t resist you, bella.” He kissed my lips, my cheek, my chin. “I’ve never met a woman who makes me want her like you do.”

Beside us, a door opened, and a tall man stepped out carrying a bag of garbage. He took one look at us and rolled his eyes.

“Rent a room!” he growled, striding past us.

I looked at Nico and giggled. “You know we’re going to be late for dinner at Il Ridotto!”

“No we’re not. Come on.”

“I can’t run in these heels!” I protested as he dragged me along.

“Do you want me to carry you?”

I squealed when he bent and then hefted me up over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, my hair flying behind me. It was only a few blocks, but he ran the whole way with me on his shoulders, howling all the while.

“Shhh, you little she-wolf.” He set me down and kissed me, barely out of breath. The man was in incredible shape. I smoothed my hair and my skirt, still flushed from being carried upside down-and from the sex. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

Il Ridotto was so small it could only accommodate four couples and two more groups of four. The tables lined one wall with candles and a single flower in a vase in the center. The walls were light brick, the fixtures nondescript. People didn’t come for the decor and the atmosphere-they came for the food and the wine.

A rotund man in an apron and a chef’s hat came around the corner as the door closed, waving us in. There were two couples seated already, one of them eating, the other talking over glasses of wine.

“We have reservations,” I explained as the little chef came our way. “Bianchi.”

“Come in, come in!” He was boisterous and smiling, nodding his head as he showed us to our table. “I’m Gianni Bonaccorsi, I’ll be your waiter-and your chef.”

Nico had prepared me for this fact. Dinner at Il Ridotto was an intimate affair. Gianni handed over our menus and a wine list, excusing himself to let us look over the fare.

“Are you sure you can afford this?” I whispered behind my menu to Nico. As a student, I didn’t make any money. I was living off savings and had to be very careful with it.

“Shush.” He waved my question away. “Anything for you.”

And that didn’t exactly make me feel better about looking over the menu, where the items were fresh, local, gourmet, and very expensive.

“I can’t possibly decide,” I said, looking helplessly at Nico. “It all sounds so good!”

“I can order for us,” he offered, and so when Gianni returned, I let him do just that, sitting back and enjoying the exchange between the two men.