Page 16
"Don Messina," the voice tries again, "the capos are—"
"She said she's powdering her nose." Romeo's voice is calm. Warm. The voice of a man discussing the weather. "Are you questioning my Donna?"
A pause. A sharp intake of breath.
"No, Don Messina."
"Then go. Pour the whiskey. Tell them we'll be down when the Donna is satisfied." He demands, snarls, impatiently.
The footsteps retreat. The silence rushes back in like a held breath released. Romeo laughs, low and dark, and the vibration travels up through his chest and into me. I feel it in my clit, in the places where our skin sticks together.
"Satisfied?" I say, my voice wrecked.
"Not even close," he smirks.
He sits up in one fluid motion, arms banding around my back, and I am suddenly straddling him with my legs wrapped around his waist. He is still inside me. Deeper now. The new angle makes me gasp, my head falling forward onto his shoulder. His mouth finds my throat, teeth scraping over the pulse point, and I feel him smile against my skin.
"You think you can walk?" he asks.
"I think you broke me," I whimper even as I roll my hips against him, sliding my clit on his abs.
"Good." He bites down, just hard enough to leave a mark. "That's the point."
He lifts me off him with a wet sound that makes my cheeks burn. I am empty. Gaping. I feel his come sliding down my thigh as he lays me back on the bed, spreading my legs wide with his knees. He looks at me like I am a feast. His gaze travels from my face to my breasts to the glistening mess between my thighs, and he licks his lips.
"Don't clean up," he says.
"I wasn't going to," I promise hotly.
"Good girl," he purrs the praise, making me whimper once again in need.
He lowers himself between my legs, not to my cunt but to my thigh. He laps at the trail of his own release, tongue flat and slow, cleaning me like a cat. The intimacy of it steals my breath. He is marking me with his mouth, tasting himself on my skin, and I have never felt more owned in my life.
"Turn over," he says against my thigh.
"What?" I shake my head, trying to clear the lust overriding my body.
"On your hands and knees. I want to watch it drip out of you." He says in such a sinful tone that any shame would take a sharp turn, and I'd literally crawl anywhere he wants me to.
I obey. I am beyond pride now, beyond pretense. My knees sink into the wet spot on the duvet, and I lower my chest to the bed, arching my back, presenting myself to him like an offering. I feel his cum trickle out of me, slow and warm, sliding down my inner thigh. His hand catches it, spreads it back over my pussy lips, and pushes two fingers inside me to scoop it back where it belongs.
"Good," he murmurs. "Hold it."
His fingers leave me empty again. Then I feel the tip of his cock nudging at my entrance, pressing against the slick mess we made together. He pushes in. Slow. So slow I feel every ridge, every vein, every nine inches of him parting me. My fingers claw at the sheets. My mouth falls open in bliss and a bite of pain. It's perfect.
He fucks me like that for a long time. Not fast. Not hard. Deep, rolling thrusts that grind against that spot inside me with every pass. His hands grip my hips tight enough to bruise, pulling me back onto him, and the only sounds in the room are the wet slide of skin and my broken breathing.
"Touch yourself," he growls, breathing hard.
I reach between my legs. My fingers find my clit, swollen and slick, and I circle it in time with every glide of his big cock moving in and out of me. The pressure builds again, impossibly wet, and that isn't the only thing making slick noises in the room. His hand covers mine, guiding my fingers, pressing them harder against the aching bundle of nerves.
"Together," he groans, head tilting towards the ceiling before looking back down at me. "Come with me."
His rhythm falters. His grip tightens. He drives into me one last time, buried as deep as he can go, and I feel him pulse inside me with each jerk of his cock. That triggers it. The orgasm crashes over me, softer than the others but deeper, a rolling wave that leaves me boneless and trembling beneath him.
He collapses on top of me, careful not to crush me, his chest heaving against my back. His lips press softly to my shoulder blade in a sign of worship.
"One more," he says.
