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“Please,” Isotta dared to utter between her fingers. But her plea for a pause only spurned on Massimo’s desire to conquer. He eased his lathered fingers from her, and she allowed the breath she’d been holding to be released. Maybe he was giving Isotta a reprieve, a reset after they got better acquainted. Her heartbeat started to slow, and the anxiety she felt just started to ebb. She blew out a long breath, feeling like she had a moment to recoup.
But then it happened: what she had feared, what she hadn’t been able to prepare herself for fully. Isotta felt a sharp, burning pain and inhaled so sharply in response she nearly choked. Massimo placed his hand over her mouth, anticipating whatever would spill from her lips as he tried to push even further inside her. She was tight, oh so tight. He pulled out, even as his thickness throbbed, and pushed in again.
“No,” Isotta screamed, but her scream was muffled by his clamped hand over her mouth.
Her stomach was tied in complicated knots. Her racing pulse couldn’t be stopped. Her heart lurched as he pushed another milli-inch inside her. Massimo’s desire for what lay just on the other side of her tightness could not be controlled, and he pushed even more inside her pristine womanhood. He was gaining ground. He was close to his prize. But Massimo was losing patience. He wanted his full dick inside her, coated by her tight walls. He anticipated the friction and the fuck and pushed even further inside her popping her elusive cherry. Massimo felt wetness on his hand from the tears that poured from her eyes, but he used that as motivation, titillating unexpected wetness that he mindfully transferred to her pussy.
Massimo’s dick throbbed, and the veins stood pronounced. He pushed his way in. Speeding up the stroke when he could and then slowing down when her walls were just too tight to penetrate without a little coaxing.
“Uh,” he grunted as he lifted inside her. Isotta still tried to hold her legs tight, to covet what belonged to her, but the force by which he took her counteracted her every measure to remain pure. Her eyes were closed, but then they opened. She found her focus on the ceiling, where she could try to mentally distance herself from what was happening to her. Isotta’s body was responding in ways she could have never imagined. Her own body cheated on her mind. But the pain… There was still lots of pain.
Massimo was driven, enticed by her wanton walls. They resisted and then gave in to his undeniable press to reach her hilt. The friction was enticing, coaxing, demanding a release from him that he was not yet willing to give. Yet, the force by which his pinned-up cum moved through him was unrelenting and demanding and forceful and unwilling to be denied. Massimo’s hand slipped from Isotta’s mouth and landed on her neck.
He squeezed.
She choked.
He took his other hand and found her breast, mouthing it, licking it as his pumps inside her puss increased in speed and force.
Isotta struggled to breathe. She clamored at his hand to release her, but Massimo only tightened his hold on her as he felt the press of hot gism against his tip. And then he bit down on her unmolested breast. Isotta felt his teeth sinking into her, and she desired to scream. But no sound came out as his tight hand around her throat choked the sound from spilling from her lips. A fresh tear teetered on her eyelids, demanding to be shed, but Isotta didn’t have the control, the wherewithal to allow it.
“Ahhhh,” Massimo groaned as the gism he tried to keep from her spilled into her welcoming womb. His hand tightened around her neck to the point that Isotta lost color there. She nearly blacked out from the lack of oxygenation.
And then it was over. He was done.
Massimo lifted himself from the bed unceremoniously and left her there to fend for herself.
And then her attention was brought back to the dinner table. Their idle conversation could be heard once again as she pushed the veal cutlet with her fork, moving it on the plate. She didn’t really have an appetite. Isotta kept up appearances, occasionally lifting her head and offering a slight smile, occasionally nodding her head in time with a comment, or feigning a laugh when the conversation called for it.
“That son of a bitch, Alessandro, showed up at the reception. Did you see him?” Isotta heard Massimo say. She inclined her ear while still focusing on her plate.
“I thought I saw him,” Giuseppe chimed. Aurelius replied that he hadn't seen him.
“I don't know. Maybe we should keep our eyes open,” Giordano uttered, his mind preoccupied with what the young man’s presence actually meant.
“Do you think that's going to be a problem?” Massimo asked.
“I hope it's not a problem,” Giordano said. “We should definitely keep our eyes open.”
And then the conversation returned to idle chatter. Massimo scarcely paid Isotta any direct attention, only occasionally casting his eyes in her direction to ensure she paid attention and, more than that, looked pretty as she ate.
“True, you should keep your eyes on him,” Romina insisted, “but not at the expense of focusing on what’s most important.”
Isotta inclined her ear and listened even though she was still focused on her plate.
“Most important?” Massimo asked, curious as to what could be more important than protecting the company.
“Yes, my dear,” Romina smiled. “There is something equally, well, more important than what you are currently talking about.”
“And what is that?” Massimo asked. “What could be more important than finding out who has put our company, our very existence as a company, at risk?”
Her eyes drifted to her husband and then back to her son.
“Giving us a grandbaby.”
Isotta’s eyes widened even though she was still looking down at her plate. She dared to lift them to regard just how serious her mother-in-law was. Massimo shook his head but still raised the question.
“And what does giving you a grandchild do?”
