“First rule, you don’t come without permission. I don’t care how close you get, how much you want to. You hold it until I tell you otherwise. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
The immediate obedience sends satisfaction coursing through me. “Good girl. Second rule, I want to hear you. Every gasp, every moan, every time you’re close to breaking. Don’t hide from me.”
“Yes, sir.”
My mouth finds her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. She arches into me, already seeking more. But this is about control, mine over her, hers in surrendering it.
“Third rule.” My hand slides higher, finding her already wet. “You take everything I give you. Every touch, every command, every moment of pleasure or denial. Your body is mine to use as I see fit. Say it.”
“My body is yours.” Her breath comes faster. “To use as you want.”
“Perfect.”
My fingers slide inside her, and she gasps, loudly , unrestrained. Her hips cant up, seeking more pressure, more friction. But control means making her wait.
“Please—” The word escapes before she can stop it.
“Please what? Use your words, tesoro.”
“Please, more—I need—”
“You need what I give you. Nothing more.” My thumb finds her clit, circling slowly, too slowly, keeping her on edge. “And right now, I’m giving you this. Be grateful.”
“Thank you, sir.” The words come breathless.
Hours dissolve into sensation. My mouth mapping every inch of her skin, finding the places that make her cry out. My hands alternating between gentle and demanding, keeping her guessing. Bringing her to the edge repeatedly, then pulling back, watching her frustration build into desperate need.
“Alessandro, please—” She’s begging now, exactly where I want her. “Please let me, I can’t—”
“You can. You will.” My fingers curl inside her, hitting that spot that makes her back arch off the bed. “You’ll hold it until I’m ready. Until I’ve had my fill of watching you fall apart.”
When permission finally comes, when she’s trembling and incoherent and so desperate she’s nearly sobbing, the release is explosive. She screams my name, body clenching around my fingers, and the satisfaction of reducing her to this is almost as good as my own pleasure.
Almost.
“Again,” the command comes dark. “I want you to come again. And this time, I’ll be inside you while you do.”
What follows is primal, her legs wrapped around my waist, nails scoring down my back, both of us lost in the rhythm of bodies claiming and surrendering. When she comes the second time, clenching around me, it triggers my own release, deep and claiming and accompanied by her name torn from my throat.
The third time is slower, more deliberate. Her on her stomach, my hand tangled in her hair, both of us learning new boundaries and testing limits.
“I told you,” my voice comes dark against her ear, “that next time I’d take this ass too. That I’d claim every part of you.”
She tenses slightly beneath me, but doesn’t pull away. “I’ve never—”
“I know.” My free hand strokes down her spine, soothing. “We’ll go slow. But tesoro, when I’m done, there won’t be a single part of you that doesn’t belong to me. Say your safe word if it’s too much.”
“Red,” she whispers, reminding us both.
“Good girl.”
Preparation takes time, oil slicked between her cheeks, fingers working carefully, stretching and preparing while she gasps and trembles beneath me. The first finger makes her tense, but my other hand slides beneath her, finding her clit, giving pleasure to balance the unfamiliar intrusion.
“Breathe,” the command comes gentle. “Relax into it. Let me in.”
She does, body gradually accepting the invasion. One finger becomes two, her breathing becoming ragged as sensation overwhelms her.
