Every coherent thought burns away from my mind and all I want is her lips around a different part of my body.
Cazzo.
The heat burns through me as she takes me deeper and deeper. It drops down my throat, into my chest, and collects straight at the tip of my cock until I’m rock hard and on the verge of tearing my fucking pants.
The pressure has nowhere to go. My grip on her jaw grows tighter. My free hand finds the back of her chair and locks around it. It's either that or I drag her up out of the seat by her hair, and I’m already doing everything I can to hold myself back.
Then, she starts to suck. Her eyes are fixed on mine as she takes my thumb all the way into her mouth, tongue swirling around the tip and shaft.
In the dim candlelight, the flush of her cheeks looks even redder. She adjusts her position and exposes more of her shoulders for her dark hair to fall around.
Her pulse moves faster and faster against my thumb as she sucks. The wet heat of her mouth leaves my ears ringing, and my knuckles grow white against the chair.
“Do we have an understanding?” I strain.
Her hand runs up the inside of my thigh. There’s no mistaking the devilish grin as she rests her palm against my pulsing dick, nodding without breaking eye contact.
I’m running on a very short and rapidly emptying reserve of self-control.
With her mouth continuing to work my thumb, she starts to rub the sensitive head through the fabric.
A groan breaks past my clenched teeth, and her grin widens. Her fingers unzip my pants, freeing my cock, and she gives me only a second of respite before she fists around the sensitive head.
Her fingers feel like heaven as she starts to pump. My knees buckle and I hold onto the chair to keep myself upright. Somehow, she’s found a way to turn the tables around on me. And she did it so damn effortlessly, too.
Wet filthy sounds fill the space between us. She’s moving faster now. Faster. Faster. My pulse races. My ears are ringing.
And then…
A violent shudder rushes through me, a ragged breath tumbles out of my mouth, and I empty myself into her hand with thick ropey spurts.
Her green eyes are darker now, shadowed with triumphant victory as she massages my cock to wring out every last drop.
Only when my cock stops twitching does she release her lips from around my thumb, breathing in short and unsteady pulls.
She brings her hand up to her lips, and runs her soft pink tongue over her cum-soaked fingers.
"I understand you perfectly, Don Nico," she whispers sweetly. "And don’t worry. I’ll be a good girl tomorrow.”
9
LYDIA
There are worsebabysitters than Anastasio, I guess.
For one, he drives like a normal person, which after Nico is almost disorienting.
He has this habit of shaking the hair out of his eyes every couple of minutes. Even more so when he laughs, which he does every now and then as he switches the radio from one talk-show to another.
He’s handsome in his own ways. But when he’s next to Nico, he might as well be a wet cardboard cutout. And somehow, as I twist the ring on my finger that reminds me of my new situation, I like the idea that I’m married to a man that I find maddeningly attractive.
Even if I never wanted the marriage in the first place.
"Go ahead," he breaks the silence as we cross the Williamsburg Bridge into Manhattan. “Ask.”
"Ask what?"
"Whatever you've been building up to ask since we left. You keep doing this." He taps his own open jaw and clamps it shut.
