His head snaps up.His eyes, dark, wild, fucking feral.
“No,” he says.“You don’t speak.You don’t fucking move.You take it.Every goddamn thing I give you.”
Then his mouth is on my clit again, hard, hungry, relentless.His hands lock around my hips, holding me down, forcing me to take every savage flick of his tongue like it’s punishment and worship all at once.
“I’m not stopping, baby.Not until you come all over my face, screaming my fucking name so loud everyone will know who owns this pussy.”
His tongue works me open as if he’s claiming territory, slow, controlled strokes at first, savoring every inch.
Then deeper.Rougher.Caught between worshiping me and wrecking me.
And fuck, he’s doing both.
He hooks his arms under my thighs and drags me down, pulling my pussy tight against his face like he’s ready to drown, and fuck, he wants to.
And holy shit, he doesn’t disappoint.
His mouth works every inch of me like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered.Every flick of his tongue wrings another twitch from my body, another desperate whimper from my throat.
His mouth sucks my clit.It’s slow, controlled, cruel… drawn out with the kind of focus that says he’s got all night to unravel me, one pulse at a time.Then his tongue flicks my clit, faster.Rougher.Filthier.Until my hips are grinding into his face, chasing the pressure, the rhythm, the high I can’t hold back.
The moans rip out of me, and still, he doesn’t stop.
He groans into me, each desperate sound I give feeding him, fueling the hunger he’s barely keeping on a leash.
And then… he spits.Right on my clit.The hot slick of it makes me flinch, makes my thighs twitch around his head.Then his tongue is there, lapping it up slow, shameless, like he’s licking cream off a spoon.
“God, fuck, Matteo,” I pant, my hands clawing the sheets, hips bucking like I can’t stop myself, because I can’t.
“Quiet,” he growls, lifting his head just enough to speak, his mouth soaked in me, lips glistening like he’s been drowning and wants to go under again. “You wanna scream?”he snarls.“You do it when you’re coming all over my face.”
Then he’s gone.No hesitation, just dives back in.His tongue flattens and drags through my folds, like he’s imprinting himself with every stroke.I jolt, cry out, but it doesn’t stop him.
Then his fingers slide inside me.
Two.
Thick.
His fingers curl just right, hitting a rhythm that feels carved from muscle memory, every stroke built to break me.
His tongue’s still works me, circling, flicking, teasing.Never letting up and I can’t stop moving.I’m grinding into his face, my body jerking, twitching, owned.I bite down on my lip, trying to stay quiet, but the cries still tear out, raw and messy.
“Oh fuck… fuck, yes,” I gasp, voice breaking, wrecked beyond repair.
He smirks against my pussy, fully aware of the mess he’s making of me.“You’re so fucking wet,” he says, every word dragging heat through my core, setting me alight.
His tongue moves faster with slick, hungry strokes that push me right to the edge.The orgasm builds hard and hot, curling up my spine until my thighs are shaking and I’m gripping the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping me grounded.
He knows. Fuck, he always knows.
“That’s it,” he murmurs.“Give it to me.Soak my face.”
And I do.I break apart with a cry, my whole body snapping tight, hips rolling helplessly as the pleasure hits hard and deep.But he doesn’t stop.His mouth stays locked to me, tongue working every last pulse, every aftershock, until I’m gasping and twitching under him.
When he finally pulls back, his mouth is wet, chin dripping, eyes locked on mine like he’s nowhere else in the world but here.With me.On me.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then climbs up my body, heat pouring off him in waves.There’s nothing soft in the way he moves, there is only need.
