She goes quiet for a moment, then whispers, “Sì, signore.”
I freeze. Every muscle in my body locks up. I grab her by her hair and yank her upright, still buried inside her. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“Sì, signore.” She gasps, her eyelids heavy with pleasure. “Is that okay?”
Yes, sir.Fuck. Between watching my cock pound her pussy, my fingers moving in and out of her ass, and hearing her call me sir in Italian, I’m not going to last.
“Say it again,” I grit out, fucking her faster.
She moans as I drive her hips into the counter hard enough to bruise.
“FUCKING say it.” I push a fourth finger into her ass, stretching her impossibly wide, and she gasps out a sound I’ve never heard a woman make before, something between a scream and a prayer.
“Scopami, ti prego, scopami, signore!”
Fuck me, please fuck me, sir.
HOLY FUCK.
I freeze for a split second, the words echoing in my head. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire God damn life.
“AGAIN!”
I yank my fingers out of her ass and pull out of her pussy, positioning my cock at her back entrance and slamming home. The condom can’t contain it. I come so hard it bursts, filling her, spilling out of her, dripping down her ass and onto the floor. Guttural sounds rip from my throat as I dig my fingers into her hips and push as deep as I can go. When I finally pull out, my cum drips off me and out of her onto the rug mats.
She’s breathless, bent over the counter, her whole body trembling. I grab her ponytail and force her to her knees in front of me. “Clean it up.”
She looks up at me, those big brown eyes wide and sweet and so fucking earnest, and I feel fucking sick. Fucking liar.
She takes my softening cock in her mouth as far as she can, sucking gently and thoroughly. Then she licks my balls, around the base, cleaning every trace of cum until nothing remains.
My jaw goes slack watching her bend and arch her back to reach all of me. No woman has ever been this submissive so naturally, not sober at least.
There are drops of cum on the floor and I sneer down at her, pushing her face toward it. “Clean itallup.”
Thiswill break her.
Instead, her eyes fucking sparkle and she whispers, “Sì, signore,” and bends her face to the floor, ass high in the air, and licks my cum off the rubber mats with the flat of her tongue. Slowly. Thoroughly.
Fuck, I’m getting hard again just watching her.
I pull her to her feet roughly. She looks at me with those wide brown eyes, waiting. Her mouth is wet and she licks her lips, then opens her mouth slowly to show me she swallowed it all.
Jesus Christ. Who the fuck is playing with whom here?
My gaze drops to her mouth. I feel myself leaning in, about to kiss her, to taste myself on her lips, until I catch myself and jerk back.
“Finish making my dinner,” I snap. “And bring me a beer.”
She nods, still kneeling, and starts to stand and pull up her pants.
I smack her hands away. “I didn’t fucking say get dressed.”
She bites her bottom lip, looking at the burnt sauce on the stove like she’s making a decision. I wait, my heart pounding harder than it should be. What’s she going to do? Argue? Fight? Tell me to fuck off? Go call daddy and tell him what Vincenzo Demonio just did to her?
But she does none of those things.
Instead she sits back on her heels and looks up at me, her eyes sparkling again. “Sì, signore,” she says demurely, then pulls her shirt off over her head, revealing her bouncy tits. “May I wear my apron, sir?”
