Giana froze instantly, pulling back with a soft, wet pop, her lips swollen and glistening, her eyes wide and questioning, slightly dazed. A thin strand of saliva connected her lower lip to the head of his cock, which throbbed angrily, leaking pre-cum.
"Did I… Was it wrong?" she asked, her voice breathless.
"No," Rodrigo breathed, his chest heaving. He released her hair, his hand sliding down to cup her jaw, his thumb brushing her slick lower lip. "Too perfect. I want to fuck you senseless."
"Then do it," Giana said, rising gracefully from her knees.
Rodrigo pushed his chair back slightly from the desk, creating space before reaching into his top drawer for a condomand rolling it on. After the previous night, he wanted to make sure he was prepared.
Giana shimmied out of her tights and straddled him, her knees sinking into the plush leather on either side of his hips. She braced her hands on his shoulders, her dark eyes locked with his, filled with a mixture of challenge and anticipation.
Rodrigo's hands settled on her hips, his grip firm. He could feel the damp heat of her pussy against his aching dick. The shift in position, the sudden full-body contact, the reversal of power sent fresh waves of lust crashing through him. He grabbed his cock, slid it against her. She was so hot and wet that he made sure his cock was slick with her before lining himself up.
"Fuck me, and don't stop until I tell you to," he commanded, his voice rough with need.
Giana didn't need to be asked twice. Holding his gaze, she sank down onto him in one slow motion, taking him deep, gripping him tight. A low moan escaped her lips as she seated herself fully, impaled on his cock.
Rodrigo gasped, his hands tightening on her hips as the exquisite tightness and heat enveloped him. "Giana…"
She began to move, rocking her hips against him, finding a rhythm. Up and down, slow at first, then faster, grinding down onto him with each downward stroke.
Rodrigo watched her, mesmerized, his hands roaming her body, skimming her waist, cupping her breasts through the thin tank top, thumbing her hardened nipples. The sight of her riding him, taking her pleasure, was almost as intoxicating as the feel of her tight, wet heat gripping his cock.
Her movements became more urgent, more desperate. She braced her hands on his shoulders, using him for leverage, her hips pistoning, driving him deeper with every thrust. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her cheeks flushed a deep rose.
Rodrigo felt her inner muscles clench rhythmically around him, signaling her approach to the edge. The tension in her body, the frantic pace, the little whimpers escaping her lips… she was close. So close.
Suddenly, her hands flew to his chest, not pushing him away, but grabbing handfuls of his crisp, white dress shirt. Her eyes snapped open, blazing with a fierce intensity. She leaned forward, her face inches from his, her breath hot against his lips.
"The tie," she gasped, her voice thick with need. "Give me your tie."
The demand, unexpected and raw, sent another jolt of pure lust straight to Rodrigo's already straining cock. Without hesitation, without thought, he reached up, his fingers fumbling with his silk tie and pulling it from his waistcoat. He offered it to her, his gaze locked with hers, a silent question and surrender in his eyes.
Giana took the tie, her fingers brushing his. She gathered the silk in both hands, pulling it taut between them. Her eyes held his, dark and commanding.
"Pull me closer," she ordered, her voice low, vibrating with power.
Rodrigo obeyed instantly. His hands slid from her hips to her lower back, pulling her flush against his chest. Their bodies pressed together, her breasts crushed against him, her heat searing him through the thin layers, her heart hammering against his own.
"So you're going to kill me after all, my love?" he asked.
Giana gripped the silk tie but didn't pull it tight, not yet. She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear.
"Only a little," she whispered, her breath hot, sending shivers down his spine. She began to pull the ends of the tie, the smooth silk tightening around Rodrigo's throat, with a gentle but undeniable pressure. It wasn't painful, not yet, but it wasconstricting. A warning. A claim. His breath hitched, his pulse pounding against the silk.
The sensation, combined with the feel of her riding him, the visual of her fierce concentration as she controlled the tension, was overwhelming. Powerlessness had never felt so potent. She owned him in that moment. His queen, his executioner, his salvation.
Mine, mine, mine,the monster in him chanted.
A sharp cry tore from Giana's throat as her body went rigid above him. Her pussy clenched violently around his cock in powerful, rhythmic spasms. She threw her head back, her eyes squeezing shut, her mouth forming a silent 'O' as the orgasm ripped through her. The tie tightened fractionally more in her grasp as she convulsed, her knuckles white.
Rodrigo watched her climax, transfixed by the sight of her surrender, her ecstasy, while she held the literal reins of control. It was the most stunning thing he had ever seen.
As the last tremors of her orgasm subsided, Giana slumped forward, her forehead resting against his, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The tie loosened slightly around his throat. Her dark eyes, glazed with pleasure, fluttered open, meeting his. A slow, sated, utterly possessive smile curved her swollen lips
"Mine," she breathed, an eerie echo of the chant in his own mind.
The word whispered against his lips, the raw ownership in it, shattered the last vestiges of Rodrigo's control.
