Her back is in an arch, leg muscles tight, trying to control the orgasm that wants to break free. I can feel that blistering heat of her, her satiny muscles trying to pull my finger in deeper. My cock is rubbing painfully against my fly and I have to stop spanking her wet cunt to open my pants, groaning in relief. She stiffens again when her bare ass rubs against it.
“You feel it, baby, that orgasm? You need to come, don’t you?” I whisper in her ear, nipping her earlobe, “You’re so close, but you can’t quite get there?”
“Please,” she moans, “please…”
“Asking so nicely, what a good girl,” I praise her as I slide the vibrator out of her and lift her slightly, positioning her over me. “You want to come, baby?” She gasps when she feels the head of my cock at her entrance and then wails when I start forcing it into her, pulling her down and watching her struggle to take me.
“There you go,” I don’t sound like myself. I’m growling, like an animal. “Work yourself down on it, you’re wet enough,mia cattiva ragazza.Fuck!” I grit my teeth; my cock feels hard enough to split out of my skin and hot enough to melt in her. She’s got her hands on the armrests and she’s using them to push up and down on me. I watch my glistening cock slide out of her and groan. I can feel the ripples beginning inside her, and I take her hips. “Let me help you.”
Lifting her up and dropping her back on my dick makes her shriek, and it just gets me harder, bouncing her on me, her slick making her ass and my thighs wet. “Time to come,Bellissima,you’ve been so good for me. Take your reward,” I ordered her. Just as she does, I slap her clit with two fingers, because pain is always going to be associated with pleasure with us. Groaning as I feel her silky, wet walls grip me like a fist, I come too, flooding her inside.
The only sound in the big, soundproofed room is both of us panting, trying to catch our breath. Just before I lift her gently off my cock, I catch her gaze in the mirror. “The next time we do this, I’m going to be in your ass and you’ll be riding me just as hard.”
The way her mouth drops open in shock almost makes me ready to come again.
Chapter Fourteen
In which Dario and Cora try to spin their backstory into an acceptable 'meet cute.'
Cora…
Dario treats me like a princess, carrying me to the adjoining bathroom and settling me in the shower, soaping me up again, and spending an inordinate amount of time on my breasts. I have no idea what time it is or how long we’ve been here.
“I’m having a hard time…” I pat my cheek with slightly numb fingers, “you know.”
“Thinking?” he chuckles, but not unkindly. “Let me take care of you.” He’s smoothing some nice-smelling lotion - lavender, I think - on my limp arms and legs as I sit on his lap. “So good for me,Bellissima.Give yourself a little time before you try to tackle the real world again.”
“Is this aftercare?” I ask, not caring about how tragically unhip I sound right now.
“Mm-hmm,” he agrees, “I will always take care of you.” He pours me a glass of ice water, “Sip this slowly, sweetheart.”
With all that slapping, everything between my legs should be on fire, but it just feels pleasantly numb and tingly, with little aftershocks still sparking like electricity up my spine from that orgasm. I lost the power of speech during that moment, the ability to think or function. Dario turned me into a single-celled organism capable of nothing but feeling that tsunami that roared over me.
Dario’s humming softly,his fingers running through my hair, feeling the strands as if acquainting himself with the bits and pieces of me.
“Don’t we…” I rub my eyes again. “Don’t we need to get out of here?”
“We have all the time we need,Bellissima,”he says kindly.
Sipping my ice water, I think about this. Taking time? My childhood consisted of my parents - well, a nanny actually, or Michael - always hauling me from place to place, at Brown, my entire focus was on getting perfect grades so I could score a scholarship for my graduate program. I didn’t even have time to pledge my mother’s sorority, a slight she has never forgiven. Then, running for my life, every time, I’d wake up in a panic, reaching out for my knife and my phone. The concept of time as a thing to be drawn out, or enjoyed is almost incomprehensible to me.
I must have mumbled some of this out loud, because he chuckles, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. “You’re an American, the concept of ‘wasting time’ here is almost a sin. In Italy, we view time as something to treasure when we’re doing something we enjoy.”
Pulling me to my feet, he helps me put my sundress back on, grinning at me insolently as he pockets the tattered remains on my underwear. “Joke’s on you,” I said, “those are the ones you bought me, and they were hella expensive.”
“I’ll buy you a thousand more as long as I can cut them off you,” he says, chuckling as we take the elevator down.
“All right, Mrs. Toscano, if you can look this way, please?”
You’d think I’d be used to this, the fake smiling for another insincere story for the media. This time, unfortunately, I’m not in the background, no simple prop to show Senator Thorne’s lovely family. This time, I’m Mrs. Dario Toscano and this is serious business, at least according to the photographer who keeps edging closer until I’m wondering if he’s trying to capture my nose hair.
We’re sitting in Dario’s spectacular living room, positioned in the best possible light. He looks outrageously good in a dark blue suit and I’m in a gorgeous vintage Chanel dress in the same color. We’re the perfect couple. If you like murderers.
“So, tell me your meet cute.”
The reporter is a nice woman, a little older than me, maybe Dario’s age- he’s twenty-nine. I recognize her name, Janet Gardener, she’s written about my father’s fundraising galas before. She pats her blonde hair and gives me an encouraging smile.
“Well…”
