Lorenzo's eyes focused on her, and something in them made Marie's heart race.
Lorenzo sat up slowly, keeping Marie straddling her, and reached for the laces of Marie's nightgown. Her fingers fumbled, clumsy with wine, but Marie helped, and together they worked it off until it pooled around Marie's waist.
Marie sat there, bare from the waist up, and felt suddenly, acutely exposed.
"Do not hide from me,"Lorenzo breathed when Marie's arms moved to cover herself. "Please. Let me see you."
Then Lorenzo's hands were at her own waist, beneath the bearskin. Marie heard fabric sliding, felt Lorenzo shifting, but the angle kept Marie from seeing what Lorenzo was doing. The bearskin remained strategically positioned.
When Lorenzo's hands returned, they helped Marie remove the nightgown completely. Then Lorenzo gently flipped Marie on her back. Lorenzo moved over her, settling between her thighs. Marie could feel bare skin against bare skin now, Lorenzo's chest against hers, their stomachs pressed together.
And yes, she could feel him there, hard and ready.
The fire warmed their skin. The bearskin was impossibly soft beneath Marie's back.
Lorenzo kissed her then, not sloppy, but deep and deliberate.
Marie kissed back, her hands coming up to grip Lorenzo's shoulders, feeling the play of muscle beneath smooth skin.
Lorenzo's mouth left hers to trail kisses along her jaw, down to her neck. Hot, open-mouthed kisses that made Marie's breath catch. Lorenzo found her pulse point and lingered there, tongue tracing the rapid beat.
"*Sei così bella,*" Lorenzo murmured against her skin. *(You are so beautiful.)*
Marie shivered at the words, the phrase triggered a memory: Lorenzo whispering those exact words the first night in the bath, when Marie had been trembling and uncertain.
Lorenzo's hand found Marie's, their fingers intertwining, palms pressed together.
Lorenzo brought their joined hands up beside Marie's head, pinning her there gently as she continued kissing down Marie's neck.
"*Voglio assaggiarti,*" Lorenzo whispered. *(I want to taste you.)*
Another kiss, lower now, at her collarbone. Marie remembered, Lorenzo had said that the second time they'd coupled, before she'd kissed her way down Marie's body, making her gasp and arch
"*Voglio farti mia in tutti i modi possibili.*" *(I want to make you mine in every way possible.)*
Marie's breathing was getting faster. Marie's breathing was getting faster. Each word brought with it a vivid memory of Lorenzo's touch, Lorenzo's mouth, Lorenzo's body moving against hers.
Lorenzo's free hand traced down Marie's side, over the curve of her hip, then back up to cup her breast. The touch was reverent, possessive.
"*Voglio sentirti tremare sotto di me,*" Lorenzo continued, thumb circling Marie's nipple. *(I want to feel you tremble beneath me.)*
Marie gasped. Her hips lifted involuntarily. "*Voglio ascoltare ogni suono che fai quando ti do piacere.*"Lorenzo's mouth closed around Marie's nipple, sucking, and Marie's back arched. *(I want to hear every sound you make when I give you pleasure.)*
"Lorenzo—" Marie's free hand tangled in Lorenzo's hair.
Lorenzo's hand found Marie's other breast, fingers pinching and rolling the nipple in time with the suction of her mouth. The dual sensation was overwhelming—pleasure and pressure and heat all building together.
Marie's hands flew to Lorenzo's head, hugging it to her chest, fingers tangling in Lorenzo's hair and pulling.
"*Voglio riempire ogni tuo pensiero,*" Lorenzo murmured between kisses. *(I want to fill every thought you have.)*Marie could feel it—feel herself getting wet.
And Lorenzo did, Marie couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't stop wanting him, even when she was furious.
And Lorenzo had barely done anything. Just words. When had she become so needy for him? When had her body learned to respond to him this completely? Lorenzo's hand released Marie's to trail down her body, over her stomach, her hip. Both of Lorenzo's hands were moving now—one working her breast, the other sliding between her thighs.
"*Dio mio,*" Lorenzo breathed. "*Sei già così bagnata per me.*" *(My God. You're already so wet for me.)*
Marie's hips rolled up seeking more contact. She was trembling, her whole body tight with wanting.
Lorenzo's fingers found her pearl and circled it slowly. Marie's breath left her in a rush. "*Potrei farti venire così facilmente,*" Lorenzo whispered against her ear. *(I could make you come so easily.)*A
nd it was true. Marie could feel it, how close she already was. How little it would take. Just a bit more pressure, a bit more friction, and she would— "
*Ti amo,*" Lorenzo said, and Marie understood those words. *(I love you.)*
Lorenzo's fingers worked her pearl while her mouth found Marie's again, kissing her deeply. Marie's hands were everywhere, in Lorenzo's hair, on her back, gripping her shoulders.
Their bodies moved together in a rhythm that felt...
She felt it—the way the prosthetic was pressing against her. Not inside her, but against her pearl, grinding there with each small movement Lorenzo made. Marie's hips rolled up to meet it, seeking more friction. The pressure was perfect, maddening. She could feel herself getting wetter, could feel the prosthetic sliding more easily against her with each movement.
Lorenzo's other hand intertwined with Marie's again, holding her, anchoring her. Their fingers laced together tightly.
Lorenzo groaned as the base of the prosthetic was grinding against her own pearl with each movement.
"*Voglio essere dentro di te,*" Lorenzo murmured. *(I want to be inside you.)*
She rubbed herself against Lorenzo deliberately. Her breasts pressed against Lorenzo's chest, skin to skin, the friction making them both gasp.
"Marie—"Lorenzo's voice was wrecked. Her hands fisted in the bearskin on either side of Marie's head. "God, Marie, I—"
Marie ground against her again, more deliberately. Lorenzo could feel how wet she was, how ready.
"I need you," Marie whispered, and pulled Lorenzo's face down to hers for a kiss—deep and desperate and demanding. She looked up into Lorenzo's eyes as she said clearly "I love you and I want you to make me yours again and again."
Lorenzo had her forehead pressed to Marie's shoulder now, breathing hard.
"I cannot."
"Why?"
"I cannot,"Lorenzo repeated, and the words sounded like they were being torn from her. "I want to—God, you have no idea how much I want to—but I have drunk too much wine. I will not remember this tomorrow. I will not remember you saying you love me. I will not remember the way you look right now—the way you are offering yourself to me."
Lorenzo lifted her head, looking at Marie with eyes that were dark with frustration and embarrassment. "And I refuse to take you when I cannot... When I am too drunk to—"She swallowed hard. "To perform well. "
Marie stared up at her, breathing hard, her body still trembling with unfulfilled need.
Then, despite everything, she started to laugh—breathless and a bit wild.
"You were so desperate during mass,"Marie said, her hands still at the back of Lorenzo's neck. "You could scarce contain yourself. You nearly took me against the church wall with my father mere steps away."
She pulled Lorenzo's face closer, her smile both fond and frustrated. "And now—" She shifted her hips deliberately, feeling the hardness still pressing against her. "Now you fail me? You are already hard. I am already ready. I could force you if I wished."
Lorenzo let out a surprised laugh—half-groan, half-genuine amusement. "Force me?"
"You are drunk,"Marie pointed out, grinning despite her frustration. "And I am sober. I have both legs wrapped around you. I could simply—"
She rolled her hips up in demonstration, and they both gasped at the friction. "—take what I want."
"You could,"Lorenzo agreed, laughing. "You absolutely could. And I would be powerless to stop you in this state."
Lorenzo groaned into her mouth. Her hips pressed forward and Marie felt the pressure—felt him beginning to enter...
Lorenzo's hands tightened on Marie's hips.
"A few days ago,"she said, voice rough, "the mere idea of my releasing my seed inside you had you furious."
Marie's breath caught at the crudeness of the words.
"And now—" Lorenzo's grip became bruising, possessive. "—now you seem quite ready to defile me in every way you can conceive of."
Then Lorenzo thrust hard once against Marie's pearl
Marie twisted, her back arching off the bearskin as a loud gasp tore from her throat.
"You—" Marie managed to raise her eyebrow even as she gasped, even as Lorenzo's mouth found her neck and kissed there. "Months ago you forced your way with me while entirely sober. Yet drunk," Marie continued breathlessly, "you fail to take me. What a twisted sense of morals you possess."
They laughed again, and this time it was sweet—intimate in a way that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with real affection, maybe Love?
"Promise me something,"Lorenzo said when their laughter quieted.
"What?"
"Tomorrow morning, when I wake, remind me of this. Remind me that you said you love me. That you wanted me to take you. That you threatened to force me."She grinned. "I want to hear those words when I can remember them. When I can cherish them. When I can hold onto them until the day I die."
Marie's throat tightened. She reached up to cup Lorenzo's face tenderly. "I promise."
Lorenzo kissed her once more—soft and sweet.
Then she helped Marie back into her nightgown, and pulled the bearskin fur around both of them.
Marie settled against Lorenzo's chest, and after a moment she laughed softly. "How am I meant to sleep with your thing still poking my arse?"
Lorenzo's laugh rumbled through her chest. "You shall manage, my love. Though I admit it is rather uncomfortable for me as well."
She pulled Marie closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
Within minutes, Lorenzo's breathing had evened into sleep. Marie lay there in the dark, listening to Lorenzo's heartbeat
*I love you,* she thought. *And you love me. And perhaps that is enough.* She closed her eyes and let herself sleep.