Chapter 72 Caught In His Frame (4)

• Alessandro’s lips brushed the soft, slick skin of Francesca’s inner thigh, his breath hot against her as he lingered there, teasing, letting the anticipation coil tighter. Her legs trembled slightly under his hands, still spread wide, her oiled body glistening in the dim studio light like a canvas begging to be devoured. He shifted closer, his broad shoulders nudging her thighs further apart, and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to her pussy—right at the center, where she was already wet and swollen from wanting him. The contact was soft at first, almost reverent, and Francesca let out a low, shaky moan, her hips twitching up to chase his mouth.
• “Sì, lì,” she breathed, voice thick with need, her fingers digging into the velvet beneath her. (Yes, there.) The sound spurred him on, a growl rumbling in his throat as he kissed her again—harder this time, lips parting to taste her, the musky sweetness of her flooding his senses. Her moan deepened, raw and unrestrained, echoing off the studio walls, and it lit something feral in him.
• He couldn’t hold back anymore. Alessandro flattened his tongue against her, dragging it up her slit in a long, aggressive lick, rough and hungry, coating his mouth with her slickness. Francesca’s back arched off the chaise, a louder moan ripping from her chest—sharp, desperate, her hands flying to his hair, tugging hard. “Cazzo, Alessandro—don’t stop,” she gasped, her voice breaking as he licked her again, faster now, relentless. His tongue worked her open, tracing every fold, dipping into her heat, the wet sounds of his mouth against her filling the air—messy, primal, obscene. Her thighs quaked around his head, her breath hitching with every stroke, and he gripped her hips tighter, pinning her down as she writhed.