"Yes, sir," I gasped. "So close?—"
"Do you want to come?"
"Yes, please, sir, please let me come?—"
"Not yet." His thrusts got harder, faster, and I could feel him getting close too. "I want to feel you clench around me. I want to feel you fall apart as I come inside you. Stay right here with me.”
"Yes, sir," I sobbed, my fingers still working my clit in time with his thrusts, the orgasm hovering just out of reach.
"That's my perfect girl." His hand came up to wrap around my throat—not squeezing, just resting there, a reminder of his control. "You're mine tonight. This pussy is mine. These soundsyou're making are mine. Everything you are right now belongs to me."
"Yes, sir," I whimpered. "Yours. All yours."
"Damn right." His thrusts became erratic, and I could tell he was close. "When I come, you come. Not before. Wait for me, Angelina."
I didn't know how I was going to manage it. Every nerve ending was on fire, my body screaming for release, my fingers still working my clit in that devastating rhythm.
"Please," I begged. "Please come, sir?—"
"Almost there." His hand tightened fractionally on my throat. "Just a little longer, baby. You can do it. You can… fuck?—"
His thrusts sped up, chasing his own release, and I held on by a thread. Drifting further from my body, unable to fight the pull to carry on.
"Come," he growled. "Come for me right fucking now."
The orgasm slammed into me like a freight train. I screamed, my body convulsing, clenching around him so hard I saw stars. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me, and I felt him taking his release, groaning my name as he emptied himself. He collapsed on top of me, both of us breathing hard, sweat-slicked and trembling.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. Then he lifted his head and kissed me softly, gentle, completely at odds with the brutality of moments before.
"Still concerned?"
Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. Not from pain, but from the overwhelming intensity of it all. I shook my head and he smiled.
“Good. How are you feeling?"
"Green," I whispered. "So green. That was... that was..."
"Yeah." He smiled, and it transformed his face into something boyish. "It really was."
He pulled out carefully and disposed of the condom, then returned to release my remaining wrist and both ankles. His hands rubbed circulation back into them with gentle attention, such a contrast to how he'd used me moments before.
"Can you sit up?" he asked.
I tried and failed, my limbs feeling like jelly.
"Okay, we're going to work on that." He scooped me up easily, carrying me toward what I now realized was an ensuite bathroom. "First, we clean up. Then we hydrate. Then we see how you feel."
"I feel amazing," I murmured against his chest.
"You feel amazing now. Give it ten minutes and you might feel differently." He set me down on the edge of a massive bathtub and turned on the water, testing the temperature. "Trust me. Aftercare is important."
"You sound very experienced."
"I know what I'm doing." He added something to the water that made it foam. "Don’t underestimate me because of my age."
I watched him prepare the bath with the same focused attention he'd given everything else, and felt something shift in my chest. Maybe I had underestimated him. Maybe Dez Moretti was exactly what I'd been looking for. The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it felt like relief.
Dez
