But he doesn’t stop. Even as I cry out, even as I writhe,he doesn’t stop. His tongue presses in again Slower now, more deliberate. He licks me through the aftershocks, coaxing me higher and higher again. My whole body shakes, and then his fingers slide inside me—two at once, thick and ruthless and deep.
“Oh, my—” I can’t even finish the sentence.
His mouth latches back onto my clit, tongue stroking in time with his fingers. Curling. Stretching. Fucking me open. My bodyspasms as the second orgasm slams into me, rougher than the first, tearing a sob from my throat.
“Please—”
But I don’t even know what I’m begging for anymore. Mercy? More?
He gives me both. He kisses me as I come down, lips soaked and dark with need. Then he sits back, chest heaving, eyes burning through me.
“Strip,” he orders. “Now.”
I don’t hesitate. What’s left of the nightgown hits the floor and I’m bare before him. His gaze drags over me like he’s memorizing every inch, like heownsit now.
“Come here.”
I crawl to the edge of the bed, trembling.
He stands and gestures to his waist. “Unbuckle my belt.”
My fingers fumble as I reach for it, the metal buckle clinking under my touch. My hands shake—not from fear, but from the unbearable weight of his attention.
He doesn’t help. He just watches me with that sharp, unblinking stare.
When I finally slide his belt free, he pulls his pants down just enough to free himself. And God. He’s, big, hard, thick. Veins pulsing along his thick shaft, precum glistening at the tip.
My mouth falls open. I didn’t get the chance to see it when he fucked me in his office, and he doesn’t let me stare at it for long before he guides me back.
He catches my chin. “Lie back.”
I obey. He climbs over me, and in one long, brutal thrust, he’s inside me. I scream.
He groans like it physically hurts. “So. Fucking. Tight… Fuck.”
His thrusts are deep, fast, punishing. The bed slams against the wall. I claw at his back.
He doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t let me catch my breath. He grabs my thighs and pushes them up, bending me in half so he can fuck me deeper. His cock slams into me—relentless, vicious—his balls slapping against me with every punishing thrust.
“This is what you wanted?” he pants, voice rough. “To be used? Fucked like a dirty little slut?”
“Yes,” I sob. “Yes, Nicolo… Please, more…”
He snarls and pulls out just long enough to flip me over. “Hands and knees.”
I scramble into position. He grabs my hips and slams back into me, harder this time. His hand wraps around my throat, hauling me up so my back arches against his chest.
“You’re mine,” he growls into my ear. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I cry.
“Again.”
“I’m yours, Nicolo. Yours!”
He fucks me harder, one hand gripping my hip so tightly I know it’ll bruise. The other is tight on my throat, controlling my breath, my body, my everything. His pace goes feral, brutal, and animalistic.
I’m crying again. From overstimulation. From being so fucking full. Then his hand leaves my throat and slides between my thighs—finding my clit and rubbing tight circles until I’m screaming again, a fourth orgasm detonating inside me.
