My hands find my breasts, my fingers tweaking my nipples. The sensation is a shock, a jolt of pleasure that is almost painful.
I slide one hand down my stomach, between my legs. I'm so wet I can feel it on my thighs. I rub my clit, a slow, steady circle that has me arching off the sofa.
He notices. Of course, he notices.
He pulls back slightly, just enough to breathe lightly.
"Did I say you could touch yourself?" he asks.
I don't stop. I can't.
He pulls out fully, leaving me gasping.
"No—" I start, protesting the sudden emptiness.
"Naughty girl," he says, a dark, possessive glint in his eyes.
He comes around to stand in front of the sofa and grabs me, forcing me up to my knees, spreading my legs wide. Myhands are gripping the back of the sofa as I prepare for him to thrust into me.
But he doesn't.
Instead, I feel a sharp sting on my ass. He's spanked me. The pain is a shock, but it's followed by a wave of pleasure that is so intense, I immediately come.
I cry out, my body convulsing, my vision going white.
He spanks me again, harder this time, driving my pleasure higher.
I'm lost in a haze of pleasure and pain, my body a slave to the sensations.
Then I feel his fingers at my entrance. He sinks one finger into me, then another. He curls them, finding that spot that makes me see stars.
He brings me to the edge again, then pulls back.
"Please, Roberto," I sob. "Please."
"Please what?" he asks.
"Let me come. Please, let me come," I beg.
He pulls me up, my back against his chest.
"You just came, didn't you? From a little spanking," he whispers in my ear.
"I want more," I say, my voice hoarse.
I am shameless. I amdesperate.
"Is that what you want?" he asks. He grabs me by the hair. "You want me to fuck you?"
I nod, unable to speak.
He pushes me back down onto the sofa, this time on my hands and knees. He enters me from behind in one smooth, powerful stroke.
I cry out, my hands fisting in the sofa cushions.
He sets a punishing pace, his hips driving into me with a force that has the sofa sliding and slamming into the wall with each thrust. The sound is a raw, primal rhythm that echoes in the quiet room.
"You're mine," he growls. "Say it."
