Bucciarati Licks Giorno Novels & Stories

I stuck my tongue out, then deliberately licked the outer part of my lips, savoring the taste, my gaze holding hers. “See, Gianna?” I said, my voice rough. “She likes it. They all like it.” I plunged a finger into Beatrice’s licking cunt, and it made a loud squelch. “You called me a dog.” I smiled darkly, taking my finger out then thrusting its entire length into her. “Hmmmmmhghh,” Beatrice’s lips parted in a breathless moan, but I didn’t look at her. “Now,” I smirked, “I’m just doing what an Alpha dog does.”

I couldn’t remember when I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as our bodies pressed together, heat radiating between us like an electric current. It was a kiss that spoke of possession and urgency. I surrendered completely, losing myself in the moment as passion surged between us. When we finally pulled apart, breathless and dazed, his eyes burned into mine. “Baciami prima dell'alba,” he murmured against my lips as he pulled away just enough for our eyes to lock again. “I’ll miss your taste, Arielle.”

— I added, with a certain discouragement in my voice. Carina Vacchiano gasped loudly beside me and turned to me as if she was going to jump on my neck. — Cazzo! — my best friend cursed in Italian. — I'll pretend those words didn't come out of your mouth, Lora Miller. — She pointed her finger at me, eliciting a giggle. — By the way, the evil being in high heels is already at the bar waiting for us.

I smiled softly at the sight. While I was smiling softly at them, Damian’s hand reached out toward the corner of my mouth, wiping off the creamy sauce from my fettuccine carbonara with his thumb. My eyes followed his hand as he withdrew and brought his thumb to his lips. He slowly licked the creamy sauce from his thumb and then sucked his thumb hard. “Oh, God.” The words came out of my mouth before I realized it, while my body had a mind of its own. My hands gripped the cutleries so hard, my legs pressed themselves close together, and my sex clenched at the sight.

Sophia said, picking up her glass. “Your weird sense of humor hadn’t died in all these years. I admire your ability to ruin things. You do it with panache. I came here to cool my jets but it looks like you have something else in your mind.” They clinked glasses. “In Bocca al lupo, it’s just how Italians say good luck. But the literal translation is, - into the wolf's mouth.” Liam laughed, by supplying her the meaning. “Spanish men are players but they are charmers with their accents and their big smiles.” Sophia smiled looking at him dreamily.

Lorenzo laughed it off and rebuffed him not to disgrace himself In front of the women who were gathered all over the table. "You're quite the player, Lorenzo," Vincenzo remarked, pushing all his stack of chips into the pot. "But tonight, it seems luck is on my side." Lorenzo smirked, his eyes narrowing. "We'll see about that, Vincenzo." And he pushed all of his chips as well. The final hand was dealt, the tension at the table palpable. Vincenzo revealed his cards, a winning hand. Lorenzo's face as he watched him claim the win.

“I know you’d been wet for him. What? You want to f*ck him, but you don’t want to f*ck me?” He chuckled, and Beatrice swallowed the blood that had filled her mouth. “It’s fine…” He brought his hand beneath his mouth, spitting against his fingers. “I know how to get you nice and ready.” His hand slithered between her fold again, wiping his saliva between them. “Now, isn’t that bette~?”

At night, I went out to buy food to eat. I went to an Italian restaurant, I'm craving Italian delicacy. The owner came to me. "Buona Giornata Giovanotto?." (Good day, young man) "Buongiorno carino" (Good morning pretty) I tried flirting with the old lady, winking at her, she slapped my shoulder and with her face turning pink, "What would you like to eat?" The old lady askes. "I want a simple pasta and cheese dish. Hm...n" I tried visualizing what I would want to eat,

As usual. The room smelled of warm basil, grilled chicken, seasoned vegetables and whiskey, an odd mix that somehow felt like home. Bukky sat opposite me, his arm still bandaged from yesterday’s hit. His rib side too was looking swollen from the outside, because of the bandages on it. He hadn’t eaten much, just kept swirling his fork through the pasta. His silence was loud enough, but when he finally spoke, the words came out like gravel. “It was Lorenzo,” he said, not looking up. “I can sense it strongly in my spirit. My instinct don't lie.”

“We are having the bruschetta to start. Then the rigatoni carbonara, because you require heavy carbohydrates to maintain combat readiness. And we are drinking a bottle of the house red, because it is robust, slightly unrefined, and entirely unapologetic.” He tilted his head, and that wicked smirk finally appeared. “Does that suit your palate, or would you prefer I ask Marco to brew some hot water and float a weed in it?” I burst out laughing. It was sudden and genuine, a bright sound that escaped before I could stop it. I covered my mouth with my hand, but the laughter spilled through my fingers anyway, shaking my shoulders. Romeo’s smirk vanished. In its place came a look of sheer, arrested