Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
Chest heaving, stomach twisting with desire, I lick my lips, watching him through the thick haze of lust.
For a moment, I think he’s going to punish me by denying me pleasure. But then he leans in and rubs the length of his cock over my soaked satin panties, dragging across my slit with every slow, deliberate glide.
“Yes, yes…please...”
As he flexes his hips, gliding back and forth against me, coating himself with my wetness, he grips my thighs and presses them as far apart as they’ll go.
Praise be I’m flexible, otherwise he would’ve broken me.
“Look at you...” he whispers, voice wrecked. “You’re fucking drenched.”
With a gritty groan, he grips my panties and yanks them upward until they bunch into a tight strip right between my lips, covering only my clit.
In controlled, maddening motions, he uses the material to stimulate my clit in the most mind-shattering ways. Little pulls and tugs and rotations that hit just right, driving me insane.
“Ohmygodohmygod…Ohmy—Stefano. What are y-you—ohhhmygod! Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
“Rosy pink…pretty…juicy…” he murmurs, sounding dazed, as if he’s in a world of his own. “You’ve got a pretty peachy pussy, Delilah.”
He scoops up some of my arousal with his fingers, lifts it to his mouth, and licks them clean. “You taste even prettier.”
With a guttural moan, he shifts my panties aside. My swollen, glistening pussy now fully exposed.
“Fucking look at you, my pretty liar.” He curses under his breath. “All slippery and dripping for me. You want me inside you, don’t you?”
“Yes. Please,” I gasp, teetering on the edge.
He taps the head of his cock against my clit, again and again, until I’m trembling. Hot skin on skin, he glides forward, back and forth, driving me to the brink.
“Inside…” I beg. “Please…”
But he doesn’t give me that. He instead quickens his pace, sliding through the mess between my thighs, stopping now and then to press back the hood of my clit and circle his tip over the bare, sensitive nub. Drives me right to the edge, then yanks me back. Torturing me.
It has to be payback for playing with him earlier. But if he drags me to the brink one more time and doesn’t let me come, I might black out.
The sounds leaving my mouth are flat-out shameless, my toes curled impossibly tight.
I’m soaked to the point that slick is dripping down my ass.
My clit so damn swollen with the need for release that my vision’s starting to blur.
I’ve never felt pleasure like this before. I don’t even know what to do.
Stefano suddenly pulls my panties back into place, straightening the material over my pussy and his cock. All while still grinding through my folds. Still gliding, still teasing. Never letting up on me.
“A beautiful sight, isn’t it?” he rasps, eyes locked on where we meet. Mesmerized.
As tightly wound and barely conscious as I am, he’s right.
We are beautiful together. His thick cock buried under the ruby-red satin of my panties, sliding back and forth, my quivering thighs smeared with arousal. The sight’s almost enough to make me implode.
He presses his palm down over his cock, adding pressure, so the weight of him hits my clit just right, providing the perfect friction for me, and a vice for himself.
The moment he begins thrusting, pressurizing the experience, I’m done for.
My back arches off the couch, neck craning into the cushions, and a hoarse, scratchy sound bursts from my throat as the orgasm slams into me like a freight truck. I’m gone. Shaking, shuddering, a garbled mess of limbs and sound and overload.
But he doesn’t stop. Keeps thrusting against my clit, which intensifies and prolongs my orgasm. It goes on and on…
I claw and grasp at whatever my hands can find, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure refuses to end.
“Ohgod…ohhhgod…you have to stop. You have to stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Stefano, you have to stop… Don’t… don’t stop…I need…I’m—”
A harsh curse rips out of him, and the pressure finally lets up just as warmth floods my panties, soothing my raging clit. Strings of jumbled praise tumble from him as he comes, muttering about how rosy I am, how pretty I smell, how peachy I taste.
If I wasn’t completely obliterated, strung out from the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, I might laugh. But I’m just grateful for the reprieve from the intense storm of ecstasy he just dragged me through.
Falling back into the cushions, I suck in a shaky breath. “Wow... just wow.”
Stefano moves above me, lips hovering over mine. “Have I earned your lips yet?”
Parting mine, I exhale a slow breath across his. He closes his eyes and takes it in like it’s a hit of something illegal.
“You flooded my panties with your cum,” I murmur as his eyes reopen. “Lift me up before I stain your couch.”
“It’s just Italian ranch dressing,” he mutters, already kissing down my body. “‘Cause I’m about to eat you out and lick you clean.”
“Oh, jeez, no.” I reach down to stop him. “I’m not the multiple-orgasm-at-once kind of girl. I have to take breaks in between.”
Especially after an orgasm of that magnitude.
The look on his face is a cross between a pout and a scowl. “What do you mean by break?”
“At least twenty minutes.”
He looks so put out right now that I have to bite back a laugh. Running my fingers through his hair, I say, “Hey. I love sex. And I love it because I make sure that if I’m doing it, I’m enjoying it. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
He just watches me.
“You’ll always know if something doesn’t work for me,” I add. “Because I’ll tell you. I know my body. And I want you to know it, too.”
After several beats of just gazing at me, his eyes soften with something indecipherable. He brushes a kiss across my stomach, then shifts back and scoops me up off the couch.
“Well then,” he mutters, carrying me off. “Let’s not stain the couch.”