Chapter 18 Lorenzo
Lorenzo
The door closed behind us, and Isabella dropped the shirt and bra that she had balled up in her hand. I thought that having another man see her topless would fill me with a jealous rage, but Jonathan hadn’t even glanced away from where he had been applying the stencil.
So, it wasn’t jealousy that boiled through me. It was possession. She was mine: her body would bear a tattoo that I commissioned for her. If I could have convinced him to work my name into the lines, I would have. I wanted the world to know that I owned this woman.
And from the look she was giving me, Isabella felt the same way.
“Are we really doing this here?” she breathed out.
I yanked her against me as an answer. Our mouths crashed together, and Isabella whined and clutched at my shirt as I licked into her mouth.
“Tell me you’re wet for me,” I crooned as I dragged my mouth away from hers.
My hand found one of her breasts; her nipple was hard against my palm.
She arched so prettily into my touch, panting slightly. “Tell me, dolcezza,” I demanded.
She swallowed hard, trying to regain her breath. “Check for yourself.”
I nipped at her throat, using more teeth than I had in a while. “Brat,” I muttered.
“Do something about it,” she challenged.
I picked her up, fingers digging into the meat of her thighs, and deposited her on the tattoo chair. I stripped her pants and panties down her legs and dropped them beside her shirt already lying on the ground.
“Show it to me.”
She raised an eyebrow, and I put a hand on each of her knees, forcing her thighs apart.
Isabella gasped and then wriggled under my gaze.
I smirked, reaching out and sinking a finger into her pussy.
We both heard the slick sound it made. “Soaked,” I taunted her, fucking that single finger into her again and again.
Isabella tried to move into the touch, but I pulled away. Her face twisted. “Please,” she murmured. “Please, Lorenzo.”
We didn’t have time for much more than a quickie…but I couldn’t bring myself to just get it over with. I wanted to be inside her, yes, but I wanted her begging for it. I wanted her to feel like I was the only thing she would ever need to make her feel complete.
When I pressed two fingers into her pussy, gave her just enough to feel the stretch, she whined out a thank you that went straight to my cock. “You like having any bit of me inside of you as you can, huh?” I mused. “My fingers, my tongue, my cock. It doesn’t matter to you, does it?”
She threw her head back and forth. “I just want you,” she insisted.
“Any way you can have me,” I added, and she moaned. Something glittered in the light, and I realized that she still had the engagement ring on her finger. Fuck, it was hot. “Say it.”
Isabella cried out again. “Any way I can have you,” she parroted, voice breathy and pleading.
“You sound like a slut.”
“I’m not,” she babbled even as she tried her best to ride my hand. But still, I drew back, leaving her empty again. Tears gathered in her eyes. I wanted to see them slide down her cheeks.
“I think you are.”
Three fingers now, and Isabella cried out, begging me to fuck her harder. But I was content to keep my thrusts steady and slow, pulling away any time she tried to help things along for herself. “You’re teasing me,” she blubbered.
“I might be,” I agreed, getting high on the look of arousal and agony on her face.
We hadn’t played like this in a long while.
I had been keeping things gentle for her, to show her that I could love her slowly and carefully, but holding back had both of us shaky with a need that we hadn’t fulfilled. “You like when I tease you.”
“I don’t,” she said, stubborn as anything, even as I could feel her getting wetter under my touch.
“No?” I mused. I quickened my pace and filled the room with soft squelching sounds until she was writhing under my hands. “You’re making a mess, dolcezza,” I teased.
Her inner muscles tightened around my fingers; she was so close. “You know what I think, though?” I asked, sliding my fingers away from where she wanted them. She cried out in distress. “I think you like when I edge you even better.”
She shook her head. “No,” she babbled. “No, no, please.” I fucked my fingers into her again, driving her to the edge before pulling away. “Lorenzo,” she wailed.
“I’ll let you come,” I told her. “But you have to tell me something first.”
She looked back at me, bleary-eyed. “What?”
“Tell me that you’ll marry me.” When she started to shake her head, I thrust my fingers back inside, curling them back into that spot that made tears well up in her eyes. “I could tie you down and edge you until you say yes.”
Her eyes widened. “We’re in a place of business.”
I snorted and circled her clit with my thumb. She arched into the touch, sobbing openly now. “I do what I want with what’s mine, right?”
She nodded, helpless. “Right,” she panted.
“So, say it,” I commanded. “Tell me that you’ll marry me.”
When she still didn’t say it, I pulled my hand away fully. Isabella, shaking, sat up and began pawing at the zip of my jeans. I put my hands over hers, and she looked up, meeting my eyes. “Please.”
I leaned down and kissed her, slowly but searchingly. When I pulled back, she immediately unzipped my fly. “Isabella.” I watched, somewhat transfixed, as she yanked my jeans down just enough to give her access to my cock, and then she leaned in and swallowed me down her throat. I choked. “Fuck.”
I lost myself in the wet, hot perfection of her mouth for a moment before I had to drag myself away. “Let me,” she whined.
I shook my head. “Another day, dolcezza,” I promised. “I need to be in your perfect pussy.”
She pouted until I told her to get on her hands and knees. The chair, because of all the ways it could be manipulated, didn’t feel the most secure, so I wanted to make sure that I was standing on the floor in case anything went wrong.
I groaned when she turned and presented herself to me. She was breathing heavy again. Good, that’s right where I want her. I reached out and soothed a hand over her ass, and she pressed back into the touch. “What do you want, Isabella?”
She looked over her shoulder. Her eyes seemed somehow darker now. “Fuck me.”
Another sound eked from my throat. I wanted that too. But first: “Marry me.”
She looked totally helpless, completely out of her head. “Lorenzo.”
“I’ll give you what you want as soon as you say it,” I said, and for a split-second, I thought she might refuse.
She tensed, as if she would try to throw me off. But then, she practically growled, “Yes.”
I was glad she couldn’t see my smile as I positioned myself against her, but didn’t press inside. Not yet. “What was that?”
“Lorenzo,” she whined, shifting backward until I clamped my hands around her hips. “Please.”
I chuckled. “Almost there, dolcezza. Just give me what I want.”
Her body was trembling, begging me to follow through, but I needed her words. “I’ll marry you,” she yelped. “Of course, I’ll marry you.”
I thrust into her in one, smooth motion, and her breathing hitched in her chest. I bullied myself deep, as far as I could go, before I drew back and snapped back inside again. The sound that tore from both of us was primal, and it set me off even more.
I pounded into her, barely giving her time to take a breath, and she met me thrust for thrust, shoving herself back against me. “That’s it,” I cooed. “That’s what you needed.”
“Faster,” she urged. “Please, go faster.”
I picked up the pace, and we rode each other’s bodies, chasing the pleasure that was building between us like a fire. I bent myself over her, pressing my chest against her back, raining kisses across her shoulders and the nape of her neck.
“Bite.”
I didn’t slow for a second. “Isabella. Fuck! What do you—?”
“Bite,” she repeated, a breathy demand. “I need it.”
I put my teeth against her shoulder and bit down.
Not enough to break skin, not enough to do damage, but enough that I knew she felt that spike of pain.
She almost screamed as she finally came.
Her inner muscles clamped down around me, pulling me over the edge as well.
I moaned against her back, hips jerking as I emptied myself inside her.
We froze for a moment, and then she collapsed into the chair with a giggle. “I cannot believe you,” she bemoaned. “You coerced me into accepting your proposal.”
I patted her ass as I slid out of her. “Like you wouldn’t have said yes eventually.”
“You don’t know that!” Her nose wrinkled. “Hand me a paper towel?”
I reached for the roll that was on Jonathan’s desk. I was going to have to give this room a serious wipe down and leave a hefty tip to thank him for giving us space.
“You don’t want to spend the rest of the day with me dripping down your thighs?”
She shivered for a moment, even as she forced her face into a mockery of disgust. “Of course, I wouldn’t.” I hummed and watched as she cleaned herself up. “Do you have to watch this?” she asked.
“Am I not allowed?”
“It’s just a little humili—” Her eyes went round with shock, and she let out a little cry that was nothing like the ones of pleasure that I had been pulling from her moments before.
“Dolcezza? What’s wrong?”
She held out the paper towel to me. It was stained a bright red that faded to pink. “I’m bleeding,” she said, almost absently. Her eyes were on the towel in her hands.
I took it from her gently and gave her a new one. “Finish cleaning up,” I said, calm even as my chest felt tight and tighter. “I’ll clean up around here as best I can, and then we’re going to see Dr. Coleman.”
She blinked slowly as she looked up at me. “I don’t have an appointment today.”
I cupped her face gently. “He’ll see you,” I assured her. “I’ll make sure that he sees you.”
“But—”
“If he’s not available, I’ll take you the ER, all right?” I cut her off. “It’s going to be okay.”
Isabella shook herself slightly. “Of course,” she said. “I’m fine. It’s nothing, right? We probably just irritated something.”
“Are you in pain?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said, taking hold of the hand that was still pressed against her face. “No, I’m fine. I’m totally fine.”
She wasn’t—and neither was I—but we would be fine. All three of us.