Chapter 24 #2
I bite my lip, suspended in that delicious, razor-edged space between fear and thrill, unable to tear my eyes away.
The air pulses, waiting for me to make up my mind.
Then he curls a finger.
Come here.
I step forward, his earlier promises still echoing; ride his face, then his dick, in that order.
He’s the one restrained. At my mercy.
Wickedly willing.
I’ve always envied how wild he is. His reckless adventures. His total refusal to be caged. While I … I’ve lived so little, so controlled, so muted. But not tonight.
All I want is freedom.
Why not start right now?
A wicked smile blooms. Little Red Riding Hood has nothing on me.
His gaze sharpens, locked on my mouth. He doesn’t realize it yet, who’s really in charge.
I kick off my heels, breasts swaying as I rise to my full height above him. He stills, pinned by my bold stare. His silence spurs me on as I step over his hips. From this vantage, I own him.
“How’s it feel being my fuckboy?” I murmur. I crave the scrape of his mouth, the filth of his tongue, his worship given because I demand it.
He blinks, then his laughter rumbles low and dirty. “It’ll feel a hell of a lot better when you’re on my face.”
His cock jerks hard, proof he means it. I’ve read most men dislike giving oral. Renzo? He worships the idea. The hunger in his eyes sends a jolt straight to my core.
I twist around slowly and unclasp my bra, letting it fall behind me. My fingers hook the delicate fabric of my thong, and I bend, shimmy, peel it down inch by inch, making sure he sees everything.
When I glance at him, he’s stroking himself. “You trying to kill me?”
“Give me time.”
His voice deepens, darkens. “Then let me die with your pussy on my tongue.”
Lust slams into me. I step forward, positioning myself above his face, my thighs trembling with anticipation.
“Stop stalling,” he orders.
I hush him with a finger to my lips. “I’m in charge.”
And then suddenly, he moves. With a quick shift, he sweeps my legs out from under me, taking full control.
I land on my shins, hips forward, arms back, his nose buried in my folds.
Any thoughts about who is in charge vanish when he grabs my hips and positions me just so before his hot tongue plunges inside me.
“Oh my God,” I gasp. Yes. This is what I needed.
“Miss me?” he demands.
He doesn’t wait for my yes.
Every filthy memory I’ve stored, every fantasy I’ve secretly fed, collides in a rush as he unleashes on me.
Tongue plunging deep, swirling like a cyclone before flicking over my clit in sharp, taunting strokes.
Bold one moment, featherlight the next. Then a teasing nip.
A slow lick. Pleasure vibrating through me with every touch.
I match the rhythm he demands until my body learns the tempo he’s set.
No nerve goes untouched. No part of me safe from his attention.
I lose sense of space, of time, of myself. Then a flicker of panic slices through the pleasure, and I lift up fast, breath catching, afraid I might’ve smothered him.
But his voice rips through the haze, rough and hungry. “What the fuck are you doing? Ride my face.”
I can’t help the grin that spreads across my lips, my inhibitions gone. “When I come,” I gasp, locking eyes with him. “I’m drawing an F across your face.”
Despite knowing it’s anatomically impossible, that women aren’t built with the same equipment as men, his eyes flash with pleasure. “That’s right, babe. Mark me as yours.”
He tilts his head, then licks me from bottom to top.
My thighs tremble when I feel his finger at my folds. “No. I want your mouth.”
“I haven’t fingered you properly yet.”
I shake my head.
He gives my hips a sharp tug, and I fall onto his face. Discussion muted.
This time, his movements are slow and gentle, forcing me to grind harder against him. It’s the promise of what’s to come that sends shivers up my spine, my climax building.
His hands cup my ass, and fingertips dip between my cheeks.
I’m frantic at this point, chasing my climax. So he catches me off guard.
Tthe tip of his finger push against my backside and I still.
“Renzo,” I cry out.
He drives it deep, at the same time pitching me forward and impaling me on his tongue.
Holy shit. The pressure’s exquisite.
I test the waters, shifting up and down. Then, I give over to it fully, frantically fucking his mouth and finger until I shatter.
He isn’t done, though, sliding me back across his hips before thrusting up into me. Frantically. Furiously. Stretching me with his pretty dick and making me question why I hesitated to have sex with him.
How could I pass on this insane pleasure?
I roll up and place a palm on his taut stomach, balancing myself as I take back control.
“That’s my girl,” he growls. “Fuck me while I’m helpless and at your mercy.”
Wrong words. I’m not his girl. As for helpless or at someone’s mercy …
I allow my weight to take him deeper.
He hisses, and I smile.
My gaze drops. My dress is ruined. Straw clings to my thighs, his chest. But I’m more interested in how we’re joined, and watch the way my flesh parts to accept him, how my clit is flushed pink, how wet I am, how good his pretty cock feels.
“You like what you see, dirty girl?” He flexes his hips, and I gasp. “You enjoying the view, and how well your tight cunt milks my dick?”
“Yes. Keep talking.”
“Tell me to take your ass. Penetrate you with my finger and dick.”
I’m already falling forward, and he’s already sliding home.
“Wait until my dick’s inside you. Wait until I’ve got you stuffed with dildos and my cock.” He pauses, then in a sharp tone, says, “Look at me.”
I lock eyes with him.
“You want another man fucking your pussy while I’m in your ass?”
God, he’s filthy.
“Only if he sucks you off first,” I reply.
Problem is, I don’t want anyone else touching him.
“Just like with the boxers. Not happening, babe.”
A sinking sensation takes hold of me. No. No. No. No. He feels just as possessive?
He thrusts, and I echo, until both of us are teetering on the edge.
“Not. Going. To. Happen,” he chants. “You’re mine, capisci?”
I gasp, from the second climax. From his declaration.
He clamps hold of my ass and releases into me.
I lie sprawled out on top of him, spent. Light shifts to shadows inside the barn as night approaches. I’m barely conscious, his heart beating against my chest the only sign he’s survived, as well.
With the shadows, unease creeps in.
We didn’t use a condom.
Aren’t there insects in this hay?
He told me I’m his.
Shit. Shit. And double shit.
Casual sex, I said? With the most complicated man alive? And I actually believed I could walk away from this without getting attached?
I stalked this man for years. Reassuring myself I was only curious, and desperate.
God, what a fool.
What am I supposed to do now?
RENZO
No amount of aftercare can soothe the fact she’s freaked.
Truth is, I am too. Thoughts about a future with her keep slipping in.
Days wandering Rome, espresso in hand, arguing about everything from the sun’s place in the sky to whether two people like us can survive the Life and still thrive together.
Nights with her tied up, folded over a spanking bench, completely immersed in our lifestyle and loving every second of it.
She’s always been curious.
I’ve always believed I’d be the one to show her.
Jesus. My father will skin me alive for this.
Our eyes connect, and she flushes. Struggling to make sense of something that just is.
I pick up her thong. “Nice underwear.”
“What?”
I hand it to her. “Italian?”
She gives me a strange look. Wild-eyed, like I caught her in a trap. “Yes.”
I keep my tone neutral, playful. “But it’s not pink.”
“I hate pink.”
Now that makes me smile. “You do?”
“Loathe the color. Almost as much as my father does.”
I throw my head back and laugh. Jesus, she’s one of a kind. “You’re a piece of work, know that?”
“So I’ve been told.” She smirks, and the weird vibe between us dulls. “Though considering how Carlo died, I’ve grown fonder of the color.”
I cock my head. “How did he die again?”
She frowns, confused. Because she clearly heard me talking to Dante about this. “Allergic reaction.”
“Right.” I wink at her. “And then you fled, executing a brilliant escape plan.”
She rolls her eyes. “Brilliant because you suggested it?”
I open my mouth to say yes because I’m a cocky fucker. But I placed a lot on chance back then and am well aware things could have turned out differently. “Glad you took my advice, Fina. You’re safe here under my protection.”
She is about to remind me it’s fucking Dante who is protecting her.
I turn away to retrieve her dirty dress.
When I return, she’s holding a hay bale.
I scowl. “Going somewhere?” I demand, not wanting her to leave.
“To bed.”
“You’re naked.”
She shrugs.
I look her up and down, knowing without seeing. “With my come dripping down your thighs.”
God help me. She hitches the hay bale to her hip, then touches herself only to confirm I’m correct.
I feel like pounding my chest and howling at the fucking moon. “I’ll allow you to leave—”
“You’ll allow me …”
“If you don’t wash it off.”
My dick hardens, loving the idea. It’s not as good as my initial imprinted on her skin but good enough.
“Deal.”
What. The. Fuck?
“If you don’t wash my juices dried on your face.”
I’m all about pussy, in the moment.
She laughs. “Just as I thought.”
With that, she leaves me to my own devices.