The twinge of pain at letting him in where no man had ever gone faded quickly. And in its place, as he withdrew and growled, pleasure trickled in.
Back and forth, he forced his penis into me. Slick sounds of my arousal filled the room. So did the slaps of flesh against flesh.
“Hold on to me,” he ordered sinisterly.
I was so overwhelmed with the pressure to come that I could barely think straight. I could scarcely breathe right.
Moving my hands to his arms, I tried to follow his order.
I curled my fingers around his forearms, latching on to ground myself with him as he dug his grip into my side. He held me in place as he seesawed in and out of me, fucking me in one steady mode.
Hard.
Fast.
Needy.
My first time wasn’t supposed to be rough. My first lover wasn’t supposed to be a volatile Mafia boss.
I accepted that this was happening, though, that I’d offered him my help and he was taking it in the form of venting his anger out on me. Fucking my brains out.
The tension built and coiled tighter. The urgency to let go and come monopolized my body. So when I finally gave up and cried out, my orgasm hitting me so brutally that tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, I knew what that saying meant now.
Le petit mort.
The little death.
It was all I could experience as my pussy spasmed around his dick that twitched inside me, filling me with rope after rope of his cum.
He’d surrendered too, flooding me with his seed.
I soared. I floated. I sank and drowned and crashed, only to be splintered into pieces with starbursts exploding behind my closed lids as he heaved harsh breaths and rammed me down against his hips.
Bliss coated me, soothing me with this out-of-the-world sensation of having an orgasm like this, from my first time taking a man like that.
I’d offered to help my boss. The man I’d been given to.
And he’d fucked me with a ruthless need that I already knew no other man could match.
17
ADRIK
Elena arched her back as she let out one last deep exhale. Her breasts jiggled as she shivered, still coming down from the high of her orgasm.
She was so tight, I swore she could’ve been a virgin.
Even if she wasn’t, that was the hottest attempt of christening this desk I ever could have imagined.
Sprawled out, her arms now flat on the desk instead of up with her hands gripping my forearms, she looked spent. Limp. Lax and so thoroughly fucked that a bomb could go off and she wouldn’t react to the earth shaking beneath her.
Her light hair formed a messy halo around her head, and the contrast between the wheat gold against the dark wood of the furniture gave her a more delicate look. It rendered her a more ethereal appearance, like she was a true treasure I could spend the rest of my life worshiping.
If I thought she was gorgeous before…
She was exquisite now.
Her flesh, so silky and soft, sweet to the touch.
