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"Enzo," I call out, managing to close my mouth and press my lips together as I stare at the bench he has sitting in his closet. "You realize that this belongs outside, right? It's a garden bench, not indoor seating."
I could deny what it is and tell myself that it's just a random bench. But I'm not stupid and lying to myself is a bad habit to get into. I know exactly what that bench is and why he has it in here, I just need to hear him say it himself so that I can gauge how insane the man I'm dealing with is.
The smile he has on his face when he comes into the room is not at all sorry. "What can I say? I'm a sentimental man," he says as he leans on the doorway. "If you think that's special you should see what I have framed in my nightstand drawer."
"I don't think I want to know," I growl out.
I gnaw my lip. Since it's so cold outside, I haven't had to make excuses to avoid going out into the garden. Something about seeing the bench where I lost my virginity makes me nervous. It's a ridiculous notion, it's just a garden seat, but now it's unavoidable.
Enzo had all of my clothes hung up in his closet. One more way that he can merge our lives so that I can't escape him.
"When did you have this brought into your closet?" I ask him, shaking my head in disbelief.
"The night after I fucked you on it. No one deserves to sit on the spot where you lost your virginity, where you covered my cock with your cum and blood," he tells me. His eyes are heavy, and he reaches down a hand to grope his hardening cock. While he might not want anyone else sitting on this bench, I don't doubt that he's stroked his cock while reliving the memory of us on it.
Curiosity is the devil because I feel myself having to bite my tongue to keep myself from answering. Even that isn't enough to stop me. "What do you keep in your nightstand drawer?"
The smile on his face drips of sin as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. "Stay here and I'll show you," he tells me.
Having sex with Enzo again was a mistake, even if it was technically just oral. It opened the gates for all sorts of desires I don't have the capacity to handle.
He returns, frame in hand. When he turns it over, it's the white, lacy thong that I wore to the wedding.
"I thought it was appropriate that you wore white the night I fucked away your virginity. I learned all sorts of interesting things about you, like how you went to Catholic school. I jacked myself off with thoughts of you in your schoolgirl skirt with these," he tells me.
I scoff at him, but heat starts to turn in my stomach. My head and my groin are at odds over his confessions because I feel wetness pool between my legs. I shift uncomfortably and it doesn't escape his attention. His smile turns wicked as he continues to voice his desires.
"I thought about how I could be the priest that you give your confessions over to, who you come to for penance," he tells me and I actually do manage to laugh at that.
"I can assure you that I don't have any dirty priest fantasies. All the priests I've come into encounter with have been at least 60 years old," I tell him.
"Good thing this is my fantasy and not yours. Now be a good girl and sit down on the bench and spread your legs for me," he commands. His authoritative tone has me listening without thinking. He walks behind me, placing his hands on my waist and whispering into my ear. "I knew you wanted to be a good girl for me, which is why you would come to me. You'd sit inside the confession booth and tell me about all the ways you've been naughty. So tell me, what dirty things did you do when I wasn't around to take care of this ache I caused?"
My chest is heavy and I want to urge him to move his hands up, move them to my heaving breasts but I resist. "I... I..." I should tell him to go screw himself, that he doesn't need me to act out his depraved fantasy but I'm squirming for relief.
"Tell me, Emma."
"I used a toy on myself. A vibrator. I would put it between my legs and pretend it was you," I confess to him. My chest feels oddly lighter as the words come tumbling from my lips.
"Would you moan for me? Call out for me to replace the pathetic replacement you picked out?" he whispers into my ear. A moan falls from my lips as I nod my head.
"Oh Emma, you were a very bad girl. From now on, when you need me, you come find me. A toy isn't going to be able to fulfill you the way that my cock is," he tells me. He squeezes my hip before letting go. I whine pathetically before I'm able to stop myself.
He walks in front of me, taking my jaw into his hand and turning my face up to meet his. "Time for you to pay your penance. Since you used a toy to replace me, I'm going to use you like a toy. Open this pretty mouth baby, I'm going to fuck this mouth of yours."
He slips his thumb between my lips, using it to pull my mouth open for him. He groans when I look up at him. The bench is too high for him to use my mouth how he wants to like this so I drop down onto my knees. I don't need to tell him that I've never done this before, that I've never let a man fuck my mouth, he already knows. He savors each first that he takes from me.
"So perfect like this. You were made to be on your knees, baby," he whispers his words of praise while he undoes his belt and unzips his slacks. He shoves them down, just low enough to let his cock out. The fact that he remains mostly dressed makes this feel dirtier. More depraved.
Just like the first time.
The thick head of his cock presses against my lower lip, forcing my jaw lower as he slides into me. He doesn't take it easy on me, this is my penance after all. Instead, he shoves himself in until he reaches the back of my throat and I gag on the cock. Even as I gag, he doesn't let up. He holds himself there, feeling my throat constrict around him. My hands scramble to find purchase, nails digging into his thighs.
I gag, tears running down my face until he pulls away. I gasp in breath quickly, but he only gives me a second before he pushes himself back into my mouth.
He doesn't linger in my throat this time. Instead, he holds my face in place as he sets a brutal pace, stretching my mouth to its capacity with each thrust. He throws his head back in pleasure, releasing his hold on me as I pull back to gasp for air. He takes his cock in his head and strokes himself until he cums, aiming for my face. Strand after strand hits me, painting me in him.
"Now, if I were your priest I'd make you wear my cum around school for the rest of the day. Let everyone see that you've been forgiven for your sins and that you are once again, a good girl," he says, wiping a bit that landed on my lips and pushing it into my mouth so that I can taste him.
