14. Mia #5
I have just enough time for a quick huh before Dario is pulling me from the room and out into the hall. He ignores the looks we’re getting, leading me further into the house until I have to finally say, “I’m about to fall on my ass, Dario. Slow down!”
He doesn’t, he just hooks his forearm under my ass so he can lift me up and carry me the rest of the way.
“What the hell are you doing?” I whisper-shout as we turn another corner, and then he’s carrying me into a room that’s all glass and domed ceilings and potted plants.
It’s the first room I’ve seen in this place that I actually like, but Dario doesn’t give me a chance to admire it.
Before I can even look around, he’s putting me back on my feet and pressing me into a dark corner.
“What are you doing?” I ask again, but he’s too busy pulling up my dress like a man possessed. I cup his face, forcing his eyes on mine, and the crazed look in his has me leaning in while I caress his stubbled cheek with my thumb. “What’s wrong?”
He groans and rests his forehead against mine. “I can’t do this,” he admits. “I can’t let him get close to you. ”
“Yes, you can.” Reaching down, I grab his hand and start to slide it up my dress again. “You can and you will, Dario.”
His forehead rolls along mine as he shakes his head. “I can’t do it, amore mio . Please don’t ask me to.”
I grip his hand tighter, sliding it further up my inner thigh until his fingers are pressed against my bare, soaking wet pussy. He groans when he feels me, when he realizes how badly I want and need him.
“He’s not going to hurt me,” I say, as I force one of his thick fingers inside me.
“Fuck.” He breathes the word out slowly against my lips when he feels my pussy clench around him. “I can’t let you go, amore mio .”
The pain in his voice makes my chest ache to hear it, but I refuse to give into it. I can’t. If I do, then it will never change. He has to let me be who I am. I won’t be put in a cage, not even for him.
“You’re not letting me go,” I remind him. “You’ll be watching me the whole time.”
I slowly work his finger in and out of me. My breath hitches when he nudges my piercing and a quick flash of pleasure hits me.
“I need you to trust me.”
He pulls back just enough so his dark eyes can find mine. “You’re not the one I don’t trust.”
“We’re doing this,” I tell him. “You’ll be watching, and I’ll be safe.”
I can tell he wants to argue, so I press my lips to his in a soft kiss. “I will always come back to you. Ti amo, Dario. Remember?”
The worried, anguished look in his eyes doesn’t go away, but it does retreat a little bit when he gives me a half-hearted smile and says, “I knew you were a romantic beneath all the piercings, streghetta mia. My fierce girl is nothing but a giant softie.”
“If you tell anyone that, I’ll have to stab you.”
He laughs and then lets out a low groan when I rock my hips and push another one of his fingers into me. My hand grips his forearm as I move my hips again, quickly forgetting that I’m still sore and should probably take it easy.
“You’re not supposed to use your pussy against me, remember? ”
“I’m not.” I lean in and kiss him again. “I’m just marking what’s mine.”
His grin is wicked as he nips at my bottom lip and presses his thumb against my clit, gently moving my piercing until my legs start to shake.
“Marking what’s yours?” He whispers the question against my lips, and I’m so turned on it takes me a second to respond.
“Yes. For the rest of this party you’re going to be walking around with the scent of my pussy all over your hand.”
“I wish it was my face, amore mio ,” he murmurs against my lips. “But I’ll happily let you cover any part of my body in your cum, sweetheart.”
His fingers speed up, twirling and thrusting into me as his thumb works my clit. I feel his smile. He knows how close I am, and right before I let go, he whispers, “Let them all know who you belong to, vipera mia , and let them hear the woman who owns me.”
His words are my undoing, and instead of kissing me quiet, he pulls back so I have no choice but to yell his name.
I’m way past caring that it’s loud and echoing and that every party guest can probably hear us.
I don’t give a fuck. The only thing I care about is right in front of me, using his fingers to bring me a pleasure so intense I’d crawl on my hands and knees for more.
“Good fucking girl,” he growls, working me harder and sending another orgasm crashing into my shaking body.
My fingers dig into his wrist while my other arm is wrapped around his shoulders, using him to help keep myself upright. When I become too sensitive, he slows down, fingering me in long, lazy strokes that send aftershocks through every part of my body.
“I love you,” I whisper against his cheek, “and I’m not just saying that because you give me the most amazing orgasms.”
He laughs and kisses my neck. “It helps, though, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” I admit with a laugh.
Resting against him, I catch my breath and ask, “Do you think they all heard me out there?”