40. Power Exchange #2
As Dante packs away the laptop, I lock the door behind us, plonking down on the large wooden boardroom table carved from solid oak.
I picked it myself, like everything in the office.
Literally picked my dream office from an online store and had it delivered and installed like I was playing The Sims. My husband paid, of course.
"What a boss bitch, as you like to say." Dante comes to me, clearly relieved to have the meeting done with too.
I kiss him deeply, messing up his perfectly styled hair with my fingers as I take his lips in mine.
"Your boss bitch."
Dante kisses my fingers, each one individually, then kisses my ring. "I'm so proud of who you've become. Thanks for letting me be by your side."
"My darling Dante. I am this me because of you. You make me better."
"My Queen." Dante bows before me like we're in some fancy movie, a King turned humble Knight—just for me.
I smile.
No, they will never know.
Those Dons will keep thinking Dante is in charge, that I'm just the front, the face of the company, useful only for my clean record.
But I know.
Know that I'm the boss.
I don't need anyone to protect me or to speak for me, no, I'm officially in charge now—and tomorrow, the golden nameplate will be installed on my office door to confirm it.
Danica Fera, Managing Director.
I like the sound of that.
If only my family could see me now. With my own office. My own parking spot. Hell, my own fucking empire.
But they can go to hell.
They don't deserve to share in my successes.
“You did well, baby,” I tell Dante as I drop my hands over his crotch, tracing the outline of his sleeping cock. It instantly perks up, and my husband lets out a pained groan.
“You’re going to drive me mad, woman,” he rasps with feigned annoyance as I unbuckle his pants.
My only reply is the huge grin spreading on my face and the order to bring Sonja to the party.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Dante replies as he pulls his dick free, casting a glance at the door despite knowing it’s locked.
“Now…” Kicking off my heels, I reposition myself on the table so I can reach over to his erection, slowly stroking the underside with my stockinged feet.
The great Don Fera lets out a primal roar, reaching for the edge of the table to stabilize himself. “Dio mio,” he gasps as I gently touch his piercing with my toes.
“What is it you want, baby boy?” I whisper, trailing my foot over his balls.
Dante lets out a pained moan. “For you to stop torturing me.”
“Hmm, perhaps,” I reply with mock contemplation as I remove my foot again.
“P-please,” my darling husband pants through quickening breaths. He’s so sensitive these days with four weeks of no release—any contact has him instantly leaking.
“Well, pleasure yourself. But no touching. And no coming without permission,” I lay down the rules, watching as Dante squirms uncomfortably, pre-cum glistening on his tip.
I know that technically it’s too soon after getting pierced, but the internet said it should mostly be fine after four weeks. And he clearly wants to.
“Thank you, Miss,” he replies gratefully, crossing his wrists behind his back like a good boy.
“Eyes on me, Tesoro,” I command in a stern voice as Dante rubs his cock on my foot, hands behind his back, desperate.
Mere minutes after he commanded the room with his strong voice, Don Fera whines like a little boy beneath my feet, begging me to let him finish.
This time, I am tempted to let Dante come all over my stockinged arches.
But I change my mind last minute, pushing him away with my foot on his hip.
Dante moans loudly, exasperated, so close but oh so far from sweet release.
Poor boy, I’ve edged him silly for nearly a month. He must be so pent-up. What beautiful devotion. What trust. To let me deny him for so long.
Just the thought of it makes me wet. Not that it takes that much.
It’s not just Dante that’s been denied.
Sure, I’ve had many releases, but I haven’t had him inside me for a month. It’s been a slow torture waiting for that thing to heal. I crave him so much.
But not now.
Not like this.
I want to take my time.
“Come here, darling.” I pull him closer. “Don’t worry, you’ll come. You deserve it.”
Dante lets out an audible groan, his body visibly stiffening.
Slowly, I stroke his rock-hard cock, using his pre-cum as lube, careful to avoid the piercing area. His dick head is no longer swollen, but the little holes where the long bar pierced his gland are still a bit red, not fully healed.
It doesn’t take much to bring him right back to the edge; Dante is ready to come for me in less than a minute.
But I don’t let him come on my hand, or my feet, or anywhere on my neatly pressed suit, no, I grab my half-drunk cup of cold coffee still on the table and milk my husband into the porcelain vessel, making sure to capture every last drop of his massive orgasm.
Dante doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t say anything—he’s too relieved to finally climax fully for the first time since we pierced his cock a month ago.
When there’s no liquid left in his body, he collapses, panting on the floor, curled up in a fetal position. I’m sure his release hurt like a bitch with that piercing in.
I give him a minute or two before calling him to his knees again.
Lovingly, I stroke my darling Don’s hair as I feed him the cold coffee streaked with his own cum. I stir it slightly with my finger and then tip the cup back, making him drink every last sip, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.
Dante doesn’t protest, just swallows it all down like an obedient pet. God, the things it does to the desire coiling at my core when he submits to me like that. When he gives into my kinky games.
When I put the cup down, he looks up at me with such adoration that I swear my cold heart melts. “Thank you, Donna Fera,” he whispers, smiling contently.
I kiss the top of his forehead sweetly as I whisper the two words that will be this great Don Fera’s entire undoing—"Bravo, ragazzo.” Good boy.