Chapter 44 #3
I shuddered when he traced circles at the tops of my thighs, flirting with the lacy top of my stocking, bowing his head until our foreheads were pressed together, his breath tantalizing as it brushed over my lips.
He shot my nerves to pieces with his proximity and his stillness.
I expected him to pounce, but I should have realized that Stan wasn’t like that.
Stan studied.
Stan devastated.
Stan conquered.
And I was ready for all three.
My eyes closed as he finally moved—his lips brushing along the curve of my jaw. I shuddered again, feeling the tiny hairs along my spine stand to attention at the barely-there caress.
When he lowered his head, settling by my throat, I groaned as he attacked my pulse point, tasting the thready nature of it for himself.
Whimpering as sensation coursed through me, I let my hands clench in his hair, tugging at it as he tormented the sensitized area before turning his fingers toward my center, slipping underneath my panties to toy with my clit.
Yearning for more, for him, for everything, I breathed, “Oh, god, Stan, to the left a little.” My hips bucked. “There. Fuck. Yes.” God, he took direction so well. “F-Faster. No, t-too fast.” When he complied again, I savored the lack of hard feelings and of bruised ego.
This was about pleasure.
Mine.
Bestowed upon me.
By him.
I tipped back slightly, trusting in his support, and felt my body succumb to his dominion.
His mouth continued its torment while his fingers reaped miracles by him thrusting two into me, spreading them wide until he could push another inside my slit. The thick girth replicated his dick and it had me angling my legs wider to help him help me.
I’d only had him inside me this morning, and while it still felt like a lifetime ago, my pussy was the only part of me that didn’t agree.
With prickles of heat storming over my skin, I groaned words that’d have me shaking my head later:
“I need you, Stan. Please. Stop teasing me. I want your cock back in my pussy so bad—
“I want to feel you come. I want your seed inside me, want to hold it in, and later, I want you to feel it too and—”
I didn’t shriek when he pulled back. But there was a fury in his eyes that had my own fluttering to half-mast, one founded in lust. Not anger.
“You want to carry my seed inside you, bedda mia,” he growled, his jaw like stone, his expression unholy.
And into that maelstrom of heat, I melted further. “Yes, Stan, yes.”
“And you want to nap with me, in my bed, before I have to go out and as you sleep, feel me deep in your pussy?”
I released a keening cry.
“Use your words, Kitty.”
“Please! I need that so badly.”
A flood of Sicilian was his answer. “I want you to be in my bed waiting for me when I come home. Would you do that for me, duci?”
“Yes!”
“I’ll sneak into the room and climb on the mattress and wake you up with the only alarm call you should have.”
Intrigued, I grabbed his wrist. “What’s that?”
His lips curved. “My face between your legs, feasting on this tight cunt until you’re coming all over my mouth.”
“Oh, fuck! STAN.” I screamed his name as he fluttered his fingers over my clit with one hand, rubbing my G-spot with the other, and making my hips buck so hard that he had to press his forearm to my waist to pin me in place.
That stirred him into action. But I didn’t care that he crumpled one of my favorite dresses as he twisted me around and bent me over the balustrade.
“Naughty girl,” he chided, slapping my ass.
If he thought that’d be a deterrent, he was wrong—I just sobbed and spread my legs farther apart.
He shifted between them, then leaned over me, settling his forearms on either side of my own. When he set his chin to my shoulder, I felt more surrounded than before and writhed under him until his teeth settled in the meat of my throat and he held me in place like a fucking animal.
I adored it.
This man made me crazy.
He made me forget.
He made me love.
He made me want to come until I couldn’t come again and—
I mewled when his dick settled against my folds. Not having heard him unzip his fly, it came as a surprise but the best kind. Then, that blunt, thick, fat motherfucker of a head was right at my core. Suddenly, those three fingers from before seemed small as he pushed into me.
I was wet. But there was no evading his size.
I quivered, tauter than a bow, as, with every inch he claimed, his teeth burrowed harder into my skin.
Sure, he’d draw blood, but I found I just didn’t care.
I wasn’t a nurse here. Just Kitty. His duci.
Another shudder wreaked havoc on my central nervous system as he pumped into me, shallow thrusts that stoked a fire as it tripped every trigger my pussy possessed.
Panting, grateful for the breeze in my face, I stared blindly at a koi fish that fluttered around the lake’s edge as he rocked deeper still.
Then, his fingers returned to my clit.
He replicated my earlier instructions. Ordinarily, I’d applaud his memory, but this time, I winced as the new position changed too much, made it—
“I’m so fucking sensitive. Fuck. Slower. Oh, god, Stan, hell. Please! Stan! I-I want to scream. I—” My words broke off as tears flooded my eyes.
This hurt so good.
He was so deep.
I was so full of him.
He was everywhere.
I couldn’t breathe.
But I didn’t want to.
I had no idea what I wanted aside from him. All of him. Forever.
My head bowed, dangling on my neck as holding it up was too strenuous.
My vision blurred as I keened through the final couple inches of his claiming.
His fingers swirled around my clit, giving me what I needed, but when he sucked instead of bit at my pulse point, and when he thrust instead of rocking into me, I knew I could no longer contain the scream building inside me.
My skin felt too tight.
My lungs too small for my body.
Coping with the gamut of sensations he urged out of me was beyond my expertise. He played my body as if he were a virtuoso and I was his instrument—I’d never experienced anything like it before in my goddamn life.
When he came with low grunts and throbbing moans that vibrated along my throat thanks to the teeth he’d burrowed there, I wailed, thinking he’d stop, that he’d leave me.
But he didn’t.
His teeth did—they shifted to nip at my earlobe before sucking on it.
I relaxed when he didn’t pull out. If anything, his softening made it easier for me to hold him inside.
His hot breath rushed over my ear. “Can you feel me, Kitty?”
“I-I can,” I cried as he gently spanked my clit, jerking me onto tiptoe.
“Can you feel what you do to me? How you drive me insane? How I can’t hold it longer than five minutes when I’m inside you? Your pussy is like heaven. I never want to leave it. You hold me so fucking perfectly, duci. So fucking tight. So mine. You are mine, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I sobbed as his hips moved faster, and now, with the extra lubricant of his cum and the faint softening of his shaft, there was less friction and more pleasure.
The fever raced through my blood as he continued, “Cristu, I can’t stop thinking about you sleeping with my cum inside you. Making your inner thighs slick. I want to plug it in so it can’t ever leave you. So you’ll always hold a part of me inside—”
I came with an explosive cry, shattering around him as he carried on talking me off. God, he drove me crazy. So crazy.
As my climax broke me, his tone changed, deepened, darkened. “Oh, bedda mia, that’s my good girl. You’re so fucking beautiful. So perfect.”
On and on he went, talking dirty in the best way. Making my orgasm crest but coast—endlessly teasing me as my pussy clutched at him, never wanting this to stop. Starving for his praise, loving and craving it like I’d never loved or craved anything else in my whole life.
Only when I sagged beneath him did he stop tormenting me, and by that point, he was busy peppering kisses to my bruised throat. “How did you like ‘show and tell?’”
“H-Huh?”
“That was what I wanted to do with you on Martinez’s terrace. But I couldn’t.”
In a daze, I let my forehead settle on the stone balustrade. “I wish you had.”
“I couldn’t control who might be able to see you. Here, it’s my land.” He grunted when my core clenched around him. “You’re mine to protect, Kitty.” His tongue prodded the bite on my throat. “Mine.”
I shuddered, almost hissing at the pain, but I let him tend to me, back to ignoring everything I knew about potentially open wounds and saliva. He’d told me he was clean and I believed him.
Still feeling drugged from that killer orgasm, I muttered drowsily, “You can show me and tell me any day of the week.”
And twice on Sunday.