I dig my heels into his ass, and I don’t care if it’s uncomfortable for him. He’s the one who left me in my shoes.
Don’t some men fantasize about high heels?
I bet they do.
He needs to get the hint and do me.
“Bossy and impatient. Huh, wife?” A low chuckle spills from Moretti, and his warm breath fans over my throat.
My nipples ache, but it’s the wave of cramping that rips through my abdomen that makes me sob.
He must recognize that I’m about to lose my shit. With no further warning, he slams inside me.
I freeze as my body tries to decide if he just ripped me in half or his intrusion feels amazing.
It’s the first.
“Jesus fuck, Moretti,” I hiss, my nails raking down his back. “Are you trying to break my vagina? I’m still new to all this, but I’m getting the hang of it. I’d like to get a lifetime of use out of my pussy.”
With him no longer jerking himself, he plants that hand on the desk next to my head and pulls back. He stays very still, not thrusting for so long that my eyes pop open.
Hell if I know when I closed them, but he’s carefully studying my face.
“How new?” he asks, his jaw tight with tension.
I shake my head, wishing a hole would open up and swallow me.
“I’m good now.” I bounce the backs of my high heels against his ass, and his cock jumps. “Move.”
Moretti pulls his hand from under my head and grips my jaw. “How new, Vanessa?” His words are clipped, but he teases his thumb over my cheek. “Would you like me to pull out?”
“No, and not all that new,” I lie. “You’re not special or anything. Fuck me already.”
“You’re a bad liar and a pain in the ass.” His hand snakes under my back, and he pulls me up with him.
It wedges his crown deeper, and I do my best not to react.
Moretti crosses the room with me held to his chest, coming to a stop in front of the small love seat on the wall just inside the door we came in.
I’m impressed he’s able to keep his pants and underwear around his thighs as he moves. It would be awkward if he tripped and fell because they were around his ankles.
Not more awkward than having him buried inside me while looking at me like he pities me.
I should punch him in the throat.
He spins around, putting himself down on the middle of the love seat. It brings me to kneel over him, and his hands slide under my dress, cupping my ass. “Are you okay? Any pain?”
My forehead falls to rest against his shoulder, and he nuzzles his cheek to the side of my head.
“Look at me, darling.”
“Can you just not make this a thing?”
“Eyes on mine!” he barks, and my stupid system reacts before I can fight the command. “You should have warned me.”
“Why? So you could run away and leave me to Magnum, like you did in the restaurant?” It pisses me off to even think about it.
Anger is a much better emotion to focus on than feeling vulnerable. I hate feeling emotionally exposed. This is a thousand times worse. He’s still inside me…and my tits are hanging out of the top of my dress. Not to mention, it feels like he can see into my soul.
