Chapter 22 #2
I oblige, picking up speed, watching her reaction carefully. Her thighs begin to tremble, her breathing becoming erratic. “Is this what you need?” I rasp.
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
“I feel… I feel empty inside,” she confesses.
The words send a surge of primal satisfaction through me. “That’s because your body wants me to fill you,” I growl, my finger teasing at her entrance without pushing inside. “Your sweet little cunt is begging to be stretched around my cock.”
She nods frantically, her inhibitions falling away in the face of her growing need. “Yes, please, I want that.”
I groan at her eagerness, but shake my head. “Not until our wedding night. I’m going to make you come with my hands, my mouth, but I won’t take your virginity until you’re my wife.”
Disappointment flashes across her face, quickly replaced by pleasure as I increase the pressure on her clit. “But I can still make you feel good, can’t I?” I murmur, watching her eyes grow glassy with building pleasure.
“Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, please don’t stop.”
I have no intention of stopping. I work her clit expertly, drawing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, occasionally dipping lower to gather her wetness before returning to the swollen bud.
“You’re going to come for me.” My voice is a dark command. “Right here, kneeling in front of this mirror so you can see exactly what you look like when you fall apart.”
She nods frantically, her hips rocking against my hand. I can feel her getting closer, her body tensing in preparation.
“Come,” I order, pressing harder, moving faster. “Come for me now.”
Her orgasm hits her like a tidal wave, her body jerking violently as she cries out my name. I don’t let up, working her through it, prolonging her pleasure until she’s gasping for breath.
Before she can fully recover, I release her wrists and slide my hand up to circle her throat, applying pressure. My other hand returns to her clit, already starting to build her toward another peak.
“Again,” I demand, feeling her pulse race beneath my palm. “I’m going to make you come until you believe how beautiful you are.”
She whimpers, her newly freed hands coming up to grip my forearm, not to pull it away but to anchor herself. “I can’t—”
“You can,” I insist, squeezing her throat gently as I continue to stroke her. “And you will.”
I adjust my grip, controlling her breathing without cutting it off completely. Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, wide with trust and arousal. The sight makes my cock throb. Seeing her take her pleasure so beautifully is going to drive me fucking insane.
“Look at us,” I command as my fingers work her toward another climax. “Look how perfect we are together.”
And she looks—at my tattooed arm wrapped around her pale throat, at my hand working between her thighs, at the contrast of my hard body behind her softer curves. I can see the moment she starts to understand, to see what I see when I look at her.
“Beautiful,” I murmur as she begins to shake again. “Perfect. Mine.”
Her second orgasm crashes through her, stronger than the first, her whole body convulsing with the force of it. I ease the pressure on her throat, allowing her to cry out as she comes, the sound of my name on her lips the sweetest fucking music I’ve ever heard.
There’s no easing up, no pausing. I continue to roll and pinch her clit, eager to give her so many orgasms she’ll fucking drown in them. Or I’ll drown when licking her slickness from her cunt. Either way, I’m not stopping.
“Raffaele…”
Her tone indicates she needs a break, but that’s not fucking happening.
“No,” I growl, my voice rough and so dark I barely recognize it.
I continue like this, giving her another two orgasms back to back.
“Again,” I insist.
I’m beyond obsessed with the way her face contorts as pleasure washes over her, and the way she’s grinding her luscious ass against my dick.
“No more,” Alina pants, her body still trembling, her skin flushed and slick with sweat. “I can’t come again.” Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, something new flickering in their blue depths.
“You can,” I growl.
“Can I… can I touch you instead?” The question is hesitant, but there’s determination behind it. The sight of her naked and satisfied before me, yet asking for more, makes my cock jerk against her.
I consider her request, weighing the benefits of maintaining complete control against the pleasure of feeling her hands on me. The decision is easier than it should be.
“Fuck yes.”
Relief and excitement flash across her face. I release my hold on her throat and turn her around so she’s facing me.
“Look at me,” I tell her, “I want to see your face when you touch me for the first time.”
She nods, her gaze dropping to my chest before rising to meet my eyes again. I see the question there, the uncertainty.
“Anywhere,” I confirm, answering her unspoken query. “Touch me anywhere you want.”
Her hands rise slowly, hovering just inches from my skin as if she’s afraid I might change my mind. When I don’t stop her, she places her palms flat against my chest, right over my heartbeat.
“You’re so warm,” she whispers, her fingers spreading against my skin.
I remain perfectly still, letting her explore at her own pace. Her touch is feather-light as her fingertips trace the lines of my tattoos, following the intricate patterns that cover my skin. The innocent exploration is somehow more erotic than if she’d gone straight for my cock.
“These are beautiful,” she murmurs, outlining the wolf on my ribs. “Do they all mean something?”
“The wolf does,” I rasp.
“And the letters?”
“And the letters,” I confirm.
The reason for those particular tattoos isn’t a secret by any means. But I don’t feel like discussing my family history when she has her hands on me.
She accepts this without question, continuing her exploration. Her hands become more confident as they move over my shoulders, down my arms, feeling the hard muscle beneath my skin. When she reaches my hands, she traces each finger, each scar, with fascination.
“You’re so different from me,” she observes, her gaze flicking between my body and hers in the mirror. “Hard where I’m soft.”
“Perfect contrast,” I reply, fighting to keep my breathing steady as her hands return to my chest, fingers threading through the dark hair there before moving lower, over my stomach.
When she reaches my abdomen, her touch becomes tentative again, her eyes widening as my muscles tense beneath her fingers. She traces the V of my hips, stopping just short of where I want her touch most.
“It’s okay,” I encourage, my voice strained. “Keep going.”
Her eyes meet mine, searching for reassurance. Whatever she sees there gives her the courage to continue. She brings one hand up to my chest again, and in a move that surprises me, pinches my nipple experimentally.
I hiss through my teeth, my cock jerking in response. “Fuck.”
A small, satisfied smile curves her lips. “You like that?”
“Yes,” I admit, watching as she does it again, harder this time. The sharp pain sends another jolt of pleasure straight to my groin. “But don’t tease me. Not after I’ve watched you come over and over.”
Finally, her gaze drops to my erection, standing hard and ready between us. “You want me to touch your… penis?”
“Please,” I groan, the word more a plea than permission.
“And it’s my choice?” she asks, licking her lips.