Page 20 of The Mobster’s Nurse

This is the most ecstatic feeling of my life. My clit throbs more intensely with every impact.

My entrance aches with a wanting I don't have the vocabulary for, yet. Wetness streams down my inner thighs.

He keeps drumming the leather swatch against my clit, occasionally pausing and rubbing it harder. Randomly withdrawing it to flick again an ass cheek. Then back to my clit.

“More?” he asks.

“Don’t you stop.” But he does.

He rocks the shaft of the crop over my entrance, back and forth, touching randomly on my clit, my entrance, and my asshole. Gives another quick round of taps against my willing nub, and then stops. Finishing with a slow, purposeful rub of the leather shaft against my whole pussy as he withdraws completely.

“Please,” I plead.

He steps forward, laying both hands on me. I moan at the warmth of his palms against my heated skin. His cock comes to rest against my lower back — heavy, real, undeniable.

"Luca," I manage, barely. "You said⁠—"

"I know what...I know what I said." His voice is rough at the edges but steady underneath. "And I meant it. Every word."

He doesn't move forward. Doesn't press closer. Just stays there, his hands warm on my hips, his cock resting against me like a question he's decided not to ask tonight. I believe him.

That might be the most surprising thing that has happened today, amongst everything that has happened today.

"Then what⁠—"

"Hold still," he says. "Just — let me have this. Just for a moment."

So I do. I hold still. I let him have it — whatever this is, the two of us in the quiet at the back of someone else's stables, his hands mapping my hips like he's memorizing them, his breathing rough and uneven against my shoulder.

Luca

I stay still.

It takes everything I have, but I stay still, and I breathe, and I let the wanting roll through me without acting on it. My cock is so hard it's painful, pressed against her lower back, her warmth bleeding through into my whole hard cock.

You made her a promise, I remind myself. You are going to keep it.

I reach down. Wrap my hand around my cock. She stays where she is, watching me over her shoulder, her neck strained, her expression open, wide-eyed. Like her first day in school. I stroke slowly at first; my other hand stays on her hip, keeping that connection — keeping myself anchored to something. To her.

"Don't look away," I tell her.

She doesn't. Her eyes stay on mine, steady and dark, and that gaze alone is enough to undo me faster than anything else.

I move my hand faster. Her lips part. Her breath comes quicker, like my need is feeding hers, like we're caught in the same current neither of us can swim out of.

"Luca—"

"I know," I say roughly. "I know."

She reaches back. Doesn't grab me, doesn't push me toward her — just lays her hand over mine on her hip, her fingers press down over my knuckles. A small thing. An enormous thing.

I'm here, her touch says. And I'm choosing this.

I come hard, my whole body shudders, and a groan tears out of me that I barely manage to muffle against her shoulder. I spill across her lower back, my hand still moving, wringing every last wave of cum from my orgasm until I have nothing left.

For a long moment after, neither of us moves.

The stables settle back into their sounds around us — Lucky Charm shifting in her stall, hay rustling, the distant clink of riding boots crossing the yard outside. The ordinary world, carrying on around us, without us.