He thrusts deep one last time and groans as he comes—hot, thick, claiming. My entire body trembles against him.
I feel his cum dripping out of me down the inside of my thigh, and still, he doesn’t let go. His forehead drops to mine. And for a second, just a second, I feel something dangerous in that silence. Something like regret.
But then he steps back, breath ragged, cock still hard against my ruined, used body.
“Desk,” he snaps. “Now.”
He lets go of me so suddenly, my knees almost give out. My dress is ripped, my panties are gone, and my body is already shaking from the first round.
“Desk,” he orders again, low and sharp.
I stumble across the office, palms catching on the polished wood as he crowds me from behind. My heart is hammering. My thighs are slick.
He grabs my hips and drags me back against him, then bends me forward until my cheek presses to the cool wooden surface. “Stay down.”
His hands spread me open, thumbs pressing into the bruises he’s already left on my skin. He doesn’t enter me. Not yet. Instead, he drops to his knees.
“Nicolo—”
“Shut up.”
His mouth covers me from behind. Hot, wet, relentless. His tongue slides between my folds, licking me like he’s starving, like the taste of me is the only thing keeping him sane. I claw at the desk, biting my lip to keep from screaming as his tongue circles my clit, then drives back inside me.
I come fast. Too fast. My body jerks, a choked cry tearing out of me as he sucks harder, groaning like I’m the best thing he’s ever had.
He doesn’t stop.
Again. My thighs shake; my nails scrape the wood. He pins my hips to the desk and keeps eating me until I’m sobbing, until my third orgasm crashes through me and I’m nearly crawling away from the overload. Only then does he stand, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark and feral.
“You taste like you were made for my downfall,” he rasps.
Before I can catch my breath, he shoves his cock back inside me from behind. The desk rocks under us with the force of his thrusts. I moan into the polished wood, my body still sensitive, still too weak.
“Stay right there,” he growls. “I’m not finished with you yet. Unless you don’t want it?”
He slows to an excruciating pace.
“I do. I want it. Please don’t stop,” I cry out.
It seems to work because each thrust is harder, deeper, his hips slamming into mine until I’m crying out with every stroke. He fists my hair and pulls me upright, my back arched against his chest as he pounds into me.
“You’re ruined now. None of those boys will ever fill the hole my cock is going to leave. Will they, Mara?” he snarls in my ear.
“No,” I gasp.
“That’s right, baby.” He drives in one last time, deep enough to make me see stars, and groans against my neck as he spills inside me again.
My legs give out, but he holds me up, still buried deep. Then he pulls out, breath ragged, and shoves me toward the chair behind the desk.
“Get on my lap,” he orders, voice low and dangerous. “Ride me. Show me what a needy little whore you are.”
He drops onto the chair like a king on his throne: legs spread, cock hard again, still glistening with me.
“Get on,” he says.
I straddle him without hesitation, lining him up and sinking down slow. My thighs shake. My pussy aches. But the stretch feels too good to stop.
Nicolo groans, his fingers digging into my hips. His hands slide up my body, rough palms cupping my tits. He leans in, mouth hot and greedy as he sucks one nipple into his mouth.
