Chapter 37 #2
"Then do it," Giana said, rising gracefully from her knees.
Rodrigo pushed his chair back slightly from the desk, creating space before reaching into his top drawer for a condom and rolling it on. After the previous night, he wanted to make sure he was prepared.
Giana shimmied out of her tights and straddled him, her knees sinking into the plush leather on either side of his hips. She braced her hands on his shoulders, her dark eyes locked with his, filled with a mixture of challenge and anticipation.
Rodrigo's hands settled on her hips, his grip firm.
He could feel the damp heat of her pussy against his aching dick.
The shift in position, the sudden full-body contact, the reversal of power sent fresh waves of lust crashing through him.
He grabbed his cock, slid it against her.
She was so hot and wet that he made sure his cock was slick with her before lining himself up.
"Fuck me, and don't stop until I tell you to," he commanded, his voice rough with need.
Giana didn't need to be asked twice. Holding his gaze, she sank down onto him in one slow motion, taking him deep, gripping him tight. A low moan escaped her lips as she seated herself fully, impaled on his cock.
Rodrigo gasped, his hands tightening on her hips as the exquisite tightness and heat enveloped him. "Giana…"
She began to move, rocking her hips against him, finding a rhythm. Up and down, slow at first, then faster, grinding down onto him with each downward stroke.
Rodrigo watched her, mesmerized, his hands roaming her body, skimming her waist, cupping her breasts through the thin tank top, thumbing her hardened nipples. The sight of her riding him, taking her pleasure, was almost as intoxicating as the feel of her tight, wet heat gripping his cock.
Her movements became more urgent, more desperate. She braced her hands on his shoulders, using him for leverage, her hips pistoning, driving him deeper with every thrust. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her cheeks flushed a deep rose.
Rodrigo felt her inner muscles clench rhythmically around him, signaling her approach to the edge. The tension in her body, the frantic pace, the little whimpers escaping her lips… she was close. So close.
Suddenly, her hands flew to his chest, not pushing him away, but grabbing handfuls of his crisp, white dress shirt. Her eyes snapped open, blazing with a fierce intensity. She leaned forward, her face inches from his, her breath hot against his lips.
"The tie," she gasped, her voice thick with need. "Give me your tie."
The demand, unexpected and raw, sent another jolt of pure lust straight to Rodrigo's already straining cock.
Without hesitation, without thought, he reached up, his fingers fumbling with his silk tie and pulling it from his waistcoat.
He offered it to her, his gaze locked with hers, a silent question and surrender in his eyes.
Giana took the tie, her fingers brushing his. She gathered the silk in both hands, pulling it taut between them. Her eyes held his, dark and commanding.
"Pull me closer," she ordered, her voice low, vibrating with power.
Rodrigo obeyed instantly. His hands slid from her hips to her lower back, pulling her flush against his chest. Their bodies pressed together, her breasts crushed against him, her heat searing him through the thin layers, her heart hammering against his own.
"So you're going to kill me after all, my love?" he asked.
Giana gripped the silk tie but didn't pull it tight, not yet. She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear.
"Only a little," she whispered, her breath hot, sending shivers down his spine.
She began to pull the ends of the tie, the smooth silk tightening around Rodrigo's throat, with a gentle but undeniable pressure.
It wasn't painful, not yet, but it was constricting.
A warning. A claim. His breath hitched, his pulse pounding against the silk.
The sensation, combined with the feel of her riding him, the visual of her fierce concentration as she controlled the tension, was overwhelming. Powerlessness had never felt so potent. She owned him in that moment. His queen, his executioner, his salvation.
Mine, mine, mine, the monster in him chanted.
A sharp cry tore from Giana's throat as her body went rigid above him.
Her pussy clenched violently around his cock in powerful, rhythmic spasms. She threw her head back, her eyes squeezing shut, her mouth forming a silent 'O' as the orgasm ripped through her.
The tie tightened fractionally more in her grasp as she convulsed, her knuckles white.
Rodrigo watched her climax, transfixed by the sight of her surrender, her ecstasy, while she held the literal reins of control. It was the most stunning thing he had ever seen.
As the last tremors of her orgasm subsided, Giana slumped forward, her forehead resting against his, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
The tie loosened slightly around his throat.
Her dark eyes, glazed with pleasure, fluttered open, meeting his.
A slow, sated, utterly possessive smile curved her swollen lips
"Mine," she breathed, an eerie echo of the chant in his own mind.
The word whispered against his lips, the raw ownership in it, shattered the last vestiges of Rodrigo's control.
With a guttural groan that was half-snarl, he lifted her up onto his desk. His hips surged, driving himself as deep as possible into her still-fluttering heat over and over.
Giana's arms went around his neck, and when she gasped his name, Rodrigo's release tore through him, violent and unstoppable, hot pulses of come erupting deep inside her.
He buried his face against her neck, biting down gently on the tender skin at the juncture of her shoulder, muffling his cry as the waves of intense pleasure crashed over him, leaving him trembling and spent.
They stayed locked together like that for long moments, breathing heavily, sweat-slicked skin pressed together, the only sound their ragged breaths and the frantic pounding of their hearts slowly beginning to ease.
Giana stirred first, lifting her head from his shoulder. Her eyes were soft, yet they still held a spark of that fierce light.
Slowly, she unwound the silk tie from his neck, letting it slither to the floor like a discarded trophy. Then, without breaking eye contact, she slid off his desk, landing softly on her knees between his legs once more.
"Sit," she commanded.
Rodrigo was still breathing hard, his cock slick with her.
He sat back in his chair and watched, mesmerized, as Giana leaned forward and took off the condom, discarding it in the bin behind her.
She licked a slow, hot stripe from the base of his shaft all the way up to the sensitive head, cleaning him off with her mouth.
The sensation, so intimate, so fucking possessive, sent aftershocks of pleasure tingling through his oversensitive nerves.
She took him into her mouth again, not deeply this time, just sucking gently, her tongue swirling, her eyes fixed on his face the entire time.
It was an act of intimacy he wasn't sure how to react to.
When she was done, she pulled back, her lips glistening. She didn't stand. Instead, she crawled back onto his lap, straddling him again, heedless of the mess.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Deeply. Thoroughly. Her tongue delved into his mouth, sharing the taste of him. It was a surprisingly filthy move that had his dick trying to rally for a second round.
Rodrigo kissed her back, his arms wrapping tightly around her, holding her close, anchoring them both.
The world outside ceased to exist. There was only the solid warmth of her body against his and the terrifying peace of belonging completely to another soul.
They broke the kiss slowly, breathing each other's air.
Giana traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips, her touch tender now. "Was it okay?" she murmured, her voice shy.
Rodrigo let out a rumble of pure contentment that vibrated in his chest. He tightened his arms around her, burying his face in the curve of her neck again, inhaling her scent that whispered, home.
"Perfetto," he whispered against her skin. "Just like you."