She moans, arches into me.
My hands move down her body, between her thighs.
"Alessandro," she gasps as my fingers slip inside her wet pussy.
The sound of my name on her lips makes my dick jump.
I push her thighs apart, and in a single hard thrust, I drive inside her body.
I wake with a start, heart racing, dick hard.
"Fuck," I growl, throwing off the sheets in frustration.
My cock throbs, demanding attention I refuse to give.
I’m not a horny teenage boy having a wet dream. I’m nothing if not controlled, even when it comes to sex.
I stare at the ceiling, trying to think of anything else.
Distribution numbers, security protocols, the Colombian deal.
But her face keeps sliding back into focus, her green eyes alight with delight, her plump red lips begging to be tasted.
Isabella fucking Vitale.
I've bedded countless women without a second thought.
Why is the daughter of my enemy haunting me like this?
Five minutes pass.
Ten.
The ache doesn't subside.
My dick is as hard and throbbing as it was when I woke from the dream. Traitor.
"God damn it," I mutter, finally wrapping my hand around myself.
I close my eyes and surrender to the fantasy.
Isabella's full lips parting, those clever eyes looking up at me as she takes me into her mouth.
I imagine her tongue swirling around the head, her hands gripping my thighs.
Would she be hesitant or bold?
Would she moan when I grip her hair?
My strokes quicken. In my mind, she's taking me deeper, her green eyes never leaving mine, challenging me even in submission.
I watch my dick disappear between those plump lips.
Swear I can feel the suck of her mouth as my hand squeezes around my cock, tighter, faster.
My release hits like a fucking freight train.
My cum shoots out, covering my chest, spurt after spurt as I draw the pleasure out.
