I nod, breathless. “Use your words.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“Good girl.” He releases my jaw and grips my thighs, pushing my knees up toward my chest. “Hold them there. I want you open for me.” I grip the backs of my thighs, feeling exposed and vulnerable and desperate. “Perfect.” He positions himself at my entrance. “Once I’m inside you, you’re mine. Completely. Forever. Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me who you belong to.”
“You. I belong to you, Vincenzo.”
There’s a blaze of satisfaction in his eyes. “Good girl.”
I feel the thick, blunt head of his cock pushing against my wet sex with just enough pressure to make me gasp.
He pushes in slowly, and it’s overwhelming. The stretch, the burn, the fullness.
“Breathe, doe. That’s it. Breathe and take me.” His voice is strained with control. “Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re choking my cock.”
“It’s—it’s a lot—”
“I know. But you can take it. You’re going to take all of me.” He pushes deeper, and I gasp. “There you go. Good girl. Just a little more.”
I focus on the rhythm of air in and out, and gradually the burn fades into something better. I arch against him experimentally, testing the feeling of him lodged inside me. He sinks deeper, inch by inch, until he’s fully sheathed inside me, and we’re pressed together with no space left between us.
“Christ,” he breathes, his forehead pressed to mine. “You feel incredible. Do you feel how deep I am? This is what it means to be mine, Adora. This is what I’ve been wanting to do since the moment I saw you. Fill this perfect pussy and make you forget there was ever a time I wasn’t inside you.”
He pulls out slowly before pushing back in, and the friction makes me moan. Each thrust is deep, purposeful, angled perfectly to make me gasp.
“That’s it. Let me hear you. Let me hear how good my cock feels inside you.”
The wet sounds of our bodies fill the room. I can feel how slick I am, feel my arousal coating him, making each slide easier.
“Moan louder. I want everyone in this fucking mansion to know I’m fucking my wife.”
He picks up the pace, each thrust harder, deeper, more possessive. My cries grow louder and louder.
“You’re so wet I can feel you dripping down my balls,” he groans. “Your pussy is making such pretty sounds for me. Listen to how wet you are.”
He picks up the pace, one hand gripping my thigh while the other braces beside my head, and I’m lost in the perfect friction of every thrust.
He adjusts the angle, hitting deeper, and I cry out. “There it is. Right there. That’s the spot that’s going to make you come all over my cock. Touch yourself. I want to feel you come around me. Touch your pretty clit while I fuck you. I want to watch.”
My hand slides between us, hesitant, and when my fingers find the right spot, pleasure crashes through me.
“That’s it,” he encourages, his rhythm never faltering. “Just like that. Let me feel it. Let me feel you getting close.”
The pressure builds and builds, higher than before, more intense. I’m trembling, gasping, right on the edge.
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice rough. “Eyes on me. I want to see your face when you come on my cock. Want to watch you fall apart for me.”
I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze.
“That’s my girl. Now come. Come on my cock. Let me feel this tight little pussy squeeze me.”
The command, his eyes, the angle, the pressure. It’s too much. I shatter around him, crying out his name, my body clenching tight around his cock. And then I feel it, that same overwhelming release, liquid gushing from my body, even with him inside me. I’m making an absolute mess, and I can’t stop it, can’t control it.
“Fuck, yes,” he groans, his rhythm breaking as he feels it. “Yes—fuck—you’re squirting on my cock.” His voice is ragged with pleasure. “That’s it. Soak me. Let me feel all of it. God, Adora.”
