Chapter Marcello
I have the desserts brought up and placed on the kitchen island, then I dismiss everyone except the four guards, who are always stationed in the vestibule.
I have no idea how I held it together during the endless car ride, but my self-control is wearing thin, even more so now, as I watch her swinging hips and ass while she walks over to the large viewing window, taking in the fantastic show of New York at night.
"It's beautiful," I watch the mouth on her reflection move. Putting my arms around her waist, I pull her against my rock-hard cock, wanting her to know where this is going.
A small groan escapes her, but she doesn't try to move out of my grip.
My right hand raises up to her shoulder, and I turn her around; fuck, she's beautiful.
Her hazel eyes are luminescent, her lips are slightly parted and moist, and as she stares up at me, just like before, the thought that Brigitte Bardot had nothing on her crosses my mind.
My self-control is all but gone. I let out a low growl and place my hand behind her head to push her up while I lean down to press my lips to hers.
It's just a slight touch at first, but it feels like an explosion inside me.
I thought I would make tender love to her, take my time and explore her body, but my dick has other ideas.
It has been waiting too long to enter her warm pussy.
My tongue dives into her mouth, exploring her.
She nips at my lower lip before her arms sling around my neck, and that's the last straw; I lift her off her feet.
Her reaction is instantaneous; her long legs straddle me.
Her hot core presses against my loins, cutting the last threads of keeping it together.
Mine!
That's the only thought running through my mind. She's mine.
I intended to walk her to the bedroom, but my control is no longer skirting the edge of the cliff; it has taken a plunge down an abyss from which, I'm afraid, there will be no coming back.
"Tell me you're ready for me," I growl.
"I'm ready," her voice is hoarse and breathless, against my ear. I've always been a sexual man, but nothing has ever aroused me like her; just the brush of her breath against my ear as she delivers the low murmured words is enough to keep me cliff diving.
For leverage, I press her back against the window, freeing one hand with which I pull up that sexy skirt of hers and rip away the tiny scrap of lace covering her pussy.
I bring it up to my face, inhale her sweet scent, and nearly lose it when I realize her underwear is drenched. Fuck, this woman is hot.
Next, I undo my belt, unzip my pants, and let them fall between my legs. No time to step out of them. I need to be inside her. Now!
My dick, stiffer than it's ever been, agrees with that sentiment wholeheartedly; slowly, I glide inside her. She's so fucking tight.
She lets out a low hiss, and I nearly come.
"So fucking tight," I groan, relishing every inch as it drives into her wet, hot pussy.
Her walls are slick around me as they reluctantly open, making me feel like a conquering army.
Once I'm all the way in, there is no holding back.
All my blood has left my brain and body and accumulated inside my cock.
I begin rocking my hips back and forth, battering in and out of her.
I have a short moment of clarity, very short. "Tell me you're on birth control."
She nods against me, her breath against my ear, and her tongue plays with my earlobe. Fuck, that's hot. And with that, any semblance of clarity is gone.
Her low moans mix with mine. Her hands bury in my hair, pull, and dig.
It hurts, but the pain drives me forward all the more manically.
Her head falls back, exposing her long, elegant neck, and I latch on.
Like a vampire, I suck on her fragile throat, set on leaving my mark there before I move to another spot.
"Ah, fuck, Marcello," she pants.
"Come for me, tesoro," I coax while searching out another spot on her throat to mark as mine.
She does. Her walls clench around me as her body spasms. I force my lips off her neck, afraid I might truly hurt her as an explosive wave crashes through me. My head falls back, and I roar my triumph over having her cry out into the silent penthouse.
She falls against me, spent and heaving, but I haven't had enough of her yet, not by a long shot. This was just the appetizer.
It's neither dignified nor painless to walk with my pants around my ankles, especially with the lingering ache in my leg.
The cane's somewhere across the room, useless now as my leg protests with every uneven step, but I grit my teeth and keep moving.
She's in my arms. A man's got to have his priorities straight.
I need to feel her beneath me, writhing and submitting to my touch.
The kitchen island, cold and hard, is perfect for what I have in mind.
I splay her out like a feast, her heated flesh meeting the unyielding marble, and a gasp escapes her lips.
Her nipples tighten under the sheer fabric of her top, begging for my mouth.
I rip the blouse off, exposing her perfect breasts, and dive in, capturing one hardened peak between my teeth.
She arches into me, a guttural moan escaping her throat as I suck and nibble, marking her flesh.
Her arms flail, searching for an anchor, sending boxes of desserts crashing to the ground.
Pastries explode, cream and custard splattering across the floor, her hair, her skin.
I watch her, enthralled, as she writhes in the mess, her body begging for more.
My hands roam her curves, mapping her territory, claiming every inch as mine.
She's a canvas, and I'm the artist, painting her with my touch, branding her with my mouth.
"Watch me, tesoro," I command, my voice hoarse with lust. "Watch what I do to you." Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine, pupils dilated with desire. I grind against her, my cock sliding through her slick folds, teasing her entrance. She's soaked, her body weeping for me.
"Please, Marcello," she begs, her voice a desperate whine. "I need you to fuck me."
A primal growl rumbles deep in my chest. "I'm going to fuck you, tesoro.
I'm going to fill you, own you, make you scream my name until your voice is raw.
" I grab a nearby cannoli, crushing it in my fist, smearing the creamy filling across her breasts, her stomach, her throat.
I lick it off, my tongue tracing paths over her trembling flesh, my eyes locked onto hers, watching her unravel beneath me.
I slam into her, one brutal thrust, filling her completely.
She screams, her body stretching to accommodate my length.
I can feel her, tight and hot, gripping me like a vice.
I still, savoring the sensation, watching as her face contorts in pleasure.
Then I start to move, setting a brutal pace, each thrust claiming her, owning her, making her mine.
"You're mine, tesoro," I growl, my hand fisting in her hair, tugging her head back to expose her throat.
I sink my teeth into her flesh, sucking hard, marking her.
"Every part of you belongs to me. Your breath," I thrust deeper, "your moans," another thrust, "your orgasms." I angle my hips, hitting that spot inside her that makes her scream my name.
"Marcello!"
"That's it, tesoro," I roar, my body pounding into hers, our flesh slapping together, her body coated in sweat and cream and us. "Scream for me. Let the whole fucking world hear who you belong to."
Her body convulses as her walls clamp down on me, her orgasm ripping through her.
I can feel it, her pleasure pulsing around me, milking my own release.
I roar, my vision blacking out as I empty myself inside her, my cock pumping my seed deep into her womb.
I collapse on top of her, my body slick with sweat and dessert, my lungs heaving for breath.
I lick her skin, tasting the salt of her sweat, the sweetness of the cream, the tang of her desire.
She's mine. All mine. And I'll never let her go.
I take her in, the way she's spread underneath me.
Her hair is matted with whipped cream and pudding, chocolate frosting is smeared across her cheek, and a cannoli shell is crushed against her thigh.
She's a mess, my mess, and I've never seen anything more beautiful.
A wicked grin spreads across my face. Round two.
"That was..." she breathes, struggling to find words.
"Just the beginning," I smirk, nuzzling into her neck. "I'm nowhere near done with you yet, tesoro."
She shivers beneath me, her body already responding to my words, my touch.
I slide out of her, both of us hissing at the loss of contact.
But I have plans, so many delicious plans for her.
I scoop her up, her body pliant in my arms, and carry her towards the bathroom.
My leg protests the sudden weight, a sharp pain pulls along the healing muscle, but I ignore it.
She needs to be cleaned up. And then dirtied again.
And again. Until she can't remember her own name, only mine.
The bathroom is spacious, all sleek lines and gleaming marble. I set her down on the counter, her legs dangling off the edge, just like in the kitchen. She leans back on her hands, watching me through hooded eyes as I turn on the shower, steam quickly filling the room.
I strip off what's left of my shirt—my pants and my boxers having been discarded long ago.
Her eyes roam over my body, drinking me in, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
I stalk towards her, a predator eyeing his prey, and she instinctively spreads her legs, welcoming me into the cradle of her thighs.
I run my hands up her legs, over her hips, up her sides, cupping her breasts. She arches into my touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. I could spend hours playing her body like an instrument, coaxing out the most exquisite sounds.
She whimpers, and her body trembles with anticipation.
I help her off the counter, leading her towards the shower.
The hot spray hits my back as I pull her under the water with me; her body molds perfectly to mine.
I reach for the soap, lathering it in my hands before smoothing it over her skin, washing away the remnants of our dessert session.
My hands glide over her breasts, her stomach, dipping between her thighs. She gasps as my fingers graze her sensitive flesh, still swollen from her previous orgasms. I circle her clit, teasing her, feeling her body coil tight.
"Marcello, please," she pants, her hips bucking against my hand, seeking more friction.
"Please, what, tesoro?" I tease, nipping at her earlobe. "Tell me what you want."
"You. I want you."
My prim little rose, a grin spreads over my face when I anticipate teaching her how to tell me exactly what she wants.
But right now, I just want to be back inside her, like I hadn't just left her warm, perfect little pussy.
With a growl, I hoist her up, her legs wrapping around my waist. I pin her against the cool tile wall, the contrast of the cold ceramic and the hot water making her gasp.
With one swift thrust, I'm inside her again, and her tight heat envelops me like a glove.
"Your pussy is perfect, tesoro, so fucking perfect. It takes me so good."
Her face flushes. I can tell she isn't used to this kind of dirty talk, but I can also tell it's turning her on.
I set a relentless pace, pounding into her, the sound of our flesh slapping together echoing off the bathroom walls.
She clings to me, her face buried in my neck, muffling her cries of pleasure.
But I want to hear her, want the whole world to hear her.
I tangle my hand in her wet hair, tugging her head back. "Don't hold back, tesoro," I command, my voice rough with lust. "I want to hear you scream."
And scream she does, her voice bouncing off the tiles as I hit that sweet spot inside her over and over. Her body starts to shake, her walls flutter around me, and I know she's close.
"That's it, baby," I encourage her, my thrusts becoming erratic as I chase my own release. "Come for me. Let go."
She does, with a cry of my name, her body convulsing in my arms as her orgasm crashes over her. I follow right behind, spilling myself deep inside her with a roar, my vision whiting out from the sheer force of it.
I slump against her, pressing her into the wall, both of us struggling to catch our breath. Our foreheads meet, our breaths mingle, and I feel her heart pounding against mine. This has to be heaven.
"You're incredible," I murmur, nuzzling into her neck. "I could stay here with you forever."
She hums in agreement, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. "I never want to leave this moment."
I give us a few more minutes before I pull back, cupping her face in my hands, my thumbs stroking over her cheekbones. "As much as I'd love to keep you in this shower all night, tesoro, we should probably get cleaned up for real."
She pouts, her bottom lip jutting out temptingly. "But I like being dirty with you."
I groan, as far as dirty talk goes, this isn't much, but coming from her, it nearly kills me. I can already feel myself hardening again. "Don't tempt me, woman. Or we'll never leave this bathroom."
She giggles, the sound light and carefree, and it makes my heart clench in my chest. I want to hear that sound every day for the rest of my life.
I set her down gently, steadying her as she finds her footing.
We wash each other slowly, taking our time, hands exploring newly discovered territories.
By the time we're done, our skin is pruned from the lengthy shower.
I wrap her in a fluffy towel, using another to gently dry her hair. She leans into me, her eyes fluttering closed; a contented sigh escapes her lips. I could get used to this, used to her in my space, in my life.
I lead her to the bedroom, pulling back the covers on the king-sized bed. She crawls in, still wrapped in her towel, looking up at me with an inviting smile. I drop my own towel, joining her under the cool sheets, and pull her into my arms.
She snuggles into my chest, her leg thrown over mine, her arm draped across my stomach. I stroke her back, marveling at the softness of her skin, breathing in the scent of her hair.
"Stay with me tonight," I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.