She moans louder now, her hips moving in rhythm with my fingers. “Raffaele, please,” she gasps. “I need…”
“What do you need, Piccola?” I ask, slowing my movements to a torturous pace. “Tell me what you feel.”
She whimpers, frustration clear on her face. “More. I-I need more.”
I oblige, picking up speed, watching her reaction carefully. Her thighs begin to tremble, her breathing becoming erratic. “Is this what you need?” I rasp.
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
“I feel… I feel empty inside,” she confesses.
The words send a surge of primal satisfaction through me. “That’s because your body wants me to fill you,” I growl, my finger teasing at her entrance without pushing inside. “Your sweet little cunt is begging to be stretched around my cock.”
She nods frantically, her inhibitions falling away in the face of her growing need. “Yes, please, I want that.”
I groan at her eagerness, but shake my head. “Not until our wedding night. I’m going to make you come with my hands, my mouth, but I won’t take your virginity until you’re my wife.”
Disappointment flashes across her face, quickly replaced by pleasure as I increase the pressure on her clit. “But I can still make you feel good, can’t I?” I murmur, watching her eyes grow glassy with building pleasure.
“Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, please don’t stop.”
I have no intention of stopping. I work her clit expertly, drawing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, occasionally dipping lower to gather her wetness before returning to the swollen bud.
“You’re going to come for me.” My voice is a dark command. “Right here, kneeling in front of this mirror so you can see exactly what you look like when you fall apart.”
She nods frantically, her hips rocking against my hand. I can feel her getting closer, her body tensing in preparation.
“Come,” I order, pressing harder, moving faster. “Come for me now.”
Her orgasm hits her like a tidal wave, her body jerking violently as she cries out my name. I don’t let up, working her through it, prolonging her pleasure until she’s gasping for breath.
Before she can fully recover, I release her wrists and slide my hand up to circle her throat, applying pressure. My other hand returns to her clit, already starting to build her toward another peak.
“Again,” I demand, feeling her pulse race beneath my palm. “I’m going to make you come until you believe how beautiful you are.”
She whimpers, her newly freed hands coming up to grip my forearm, not to pull it away but to anchor herself. “I can’t—”
“You can,” I insist, squeezing her throat gently as I continue to stroke her. “And you will.”
I adjust my grip, controlling her breathing without cutting it off completely. Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, wide with trust and arousal. The sight makes my cock throb. Seeing her take her pleasure so beautifully is going to drive me fucking insane.
“Look at us,” I command as my fingers work her toward another climax. “Look how perfect we are together.”
And she looks—at my tattooed arm wrapped around her pale throat, at my hand working between her thighs, at the contrast of my hard body behind her softer curves. I can see the moment she starts to understand, to see what I see when I look at her.
“Beautiful,” I murmur as she begins to shake again. “Perfect. Mine.”
Her second orgasm crashes through her, stronger than the first, her whole body convulsing with the force of it. I ease the pressure on her throat, allowing her to cry out as she comes, the sound of my name on her lips the sweetest fucking music I’ve ever heard.
There’s no easing up, no pausing. I continue to roll and pinch her clit, eager to give her so many orgasms she’ll fucking drown in them. Or I’ll drown when licking her slickness from her cunt. Either way, I’m not stopping.
“Raffaele…”
Her tone indicates she needs a break, but that’s not fucking happening.
“No,” I growl, my voice rough and so dark I barely recognize it.
