Chapter 18 - Emma #2
His words spur me on. I bounce on his cock faster, chasing my pleasure, watching his face contort with the effort not to come. The wet sounds of our fucking fill the room. My pussy is so wet it's obscene, his cock making filthy squelching noises with each thrust.
"Touch yourself," he commands. "I want to watch you play with that pretty clit while you ride me."
I obey, circling my clit with one hand while the other plays with my nipples. The dual stimulation has me climbing fast toward orgasm.
"That's my good girl," he praises. "My perfect fucking girl. You're close, aren't you? I can feel your pussy getting tighter."
"So close," I gasp, grinding down hard, taking him impossibly deep.
"Come for me," he demands, his thumb joining mine on my clit. "Come all over my cock. Show me who this pussy belongs to now."
The combination of his words, his touch, and his cock hitting that perfect spot sends me over the edge. I come with a scream, my pussy clamping down on him in waves. The orgasm seems endless, my whole body shaking as pleasure crashes through me.
"Fuck, yes," he groans, his hips bucking up. "Milk my cock with that tight little pussy."
Before the aftershocks fade, he flips us over, still buried inside me. The sudden shift has me gasping, oversensitive but immediately ready for more.
"My turn," he growls, pulling out until just the tip remains, then slamming back in.
"Oh god," I cry out, my nails raking down his back hard enough to draw blood.
"That's it, mark me," he encourages, setting a punishing pace. "Show everyone who I belong to."
He fucks me hard and deep, each thrust pushing little screams from my throat. The headboard slams against the wall rhythmically, and I'm certain the entire house can hear us, but I don't care.
"You feel so fucking good," he groans, angling my hips to go deeper. He hooks my legs over his shoulders, folding me nearly in half. The position lets him go impossibly deep, his cock hitting my cervix with each thrust.
"Alessandro," I scream as another orgasm builds. "I'm going to come again."
"Give it to me," he demands, his thumb finding my clit again. "Come on my cock again. I want to feel that pussy squeeze me."
This orgasm hits even harder than the first, my vision going white as pleasure consumes me. My pussy contracts so hard around him that he has to fight to keep moving.
"Fuck, Stella," he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. "I'm going to come. Where do you want it?"
"Inside," I gasp without hesitation. "I want to feel you come inside me."
"Jesus fucking Christ," he roars, slamming deep one final time. I feel his cock pulse as he empties himself inside me. He comes so hard his whole body shakes, his hands gripping my hips with bruising force.
We collapse together, both gasping for air. He stays inside me, neither of us wanting to separate yet. I can feel our combined fluids starting to leak out around his cock, but I don't care about the mess.
"That was…" he starts, then trails off.
"I know," I say against his chest, smiling.
I've never felt so powerful.
He laughs, the sound rumbling through me. "You just fucked twenty-seven years of sexual experience into irrelevance. Every woman before you is forgotten."
I want to laugh. To tease him for sleeping around so much, but the thought fills me with a stab of anger. Jealousy, I suppose.
"Alessandro?" I say, clenching my pussy around his cock, feeling it start to harden again inside me.
"Already?" he asks with wonder. "Fuck, what have you done to me?"
"I want more," I admit, rolling my hips. "I want you to show me everything. Every position, every way you can make me come. I want to be an expert at fucking you."
His cock is fully hard again now, stretching me anew. "You're going to be the death of me," he groans, starting to move. "My perfect corruption. My beautiful obsession."
I push against his chest suddenly, forcing him to stop mid-thrust. The surprise in his eyes makes me feel drunk with power.
"No," I say firmly, shocking myself with my boldness. "Not like this."
"Stella?"
I push him onto his back, his cock slipping out of me with a wet sound that makes us both groan. But I'm already moving, sliding off the bed with newfound confidence, my legs shaky but determined.
"Where are you—"
"I'm not done with you," I interrupt, turning to face him with a smile that feels foreign on my lips: predatory, confident, completely unlike the servant girl who cowered just weeks ago. “Your family is all out for the day, right? On that corporate picnic you refused to join.”
“Yes.”
“Even Ana and the baby.”
“Yes, why—”
"I want you to fuck me in every room of this house today. Starting with that table where you first fed me."
His jaw drops. Alessandro Rosetti, who always has a smooth response, is speechless.
"Every room?" His voice cracks slightly.
"Every. Single. Room." I walk toward the door, aware that I'm naked, covered in his marks, his cum dripping down my thighs.
Yesterday's me would have been mortified.
Today's version revels in it. "We're starting in the dining room.
I want you to bend me over that mahogany table where you fed me, where your family judged me. "
"Jesus Christ, Stella." He's already scrambling off the bed, his cock bobbing as he moves. "You really are going to kill me."
"Then you'll die happy," I say, already reaching for the door handle. "Now come show me what that tongue can do on your leather chair. Unless you're too tired?"
The challenge in my voice makes his eyes flash dangerously. In two strides, he's behind me, spinning me around and pressing me against the door. His cock presses against my stomach, rock hard and leaking again.
"Too tired?" he growls, his hand wrapping around my throat, not squeezing, just holding, possessive and gentle at once.
"I'll fuck you on every surface in this house.
Then I'll fuck you in the car. In my office.
By that telescope you love so much. I'll make you come so many times you forget your own name. "
"Promises, promises," I whisper, then reach down to stroke his cock, making him hiss. "Prove it."
He crashes his mouth to mine, the kiss bruising and desperate. When he pulls back, we're both panting.
"Grab my shirt," he orders. "You're wearing it to the dining room. I want to fuck you in nothing but my shirt."
I slip on his white button-down from last night, the fabric still carrying his scent. It barely covers my ass, and I know I'm dripping down my thighs, but the hunger in his eyes makes me feel like a goddess.
"Move," I command, opening the door. "We have a whole house to christen, and I want to be screaming your name in every room before lunch."
As I walk down the hallway toward the dining room, I hear him behind me, muttering in Italian.
Something that sounds like prayers and curses combined.
I smile, knowing that the servant girl is truly gone now, replaced by something far more dangerous: a woman who knows her power and isn't afraid to use it.
"Stella," he calls, and when I turn, his expression is pure worship mixed with awe. "You're going to destroy me completely, aren't you?"
"Yes," I say simply, then push open the dining room door. "Now come here and let me."