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The overstimulation keeps her on the edge of pain and pleasure. She won’t be able to come right now. She’s holding her body too tight, protecting herself from the pleasure that has left her exhausted. The overwhelming sensations need to be narrowed. Focused.
“Please, please,’ she begs. She doesn’t know what she’s begging for. Her body is being challenged in ways it never has before.
I remove the vibrator from her clit, and her arching back collapses against the mattress. Her mouth gapes open, and I can tell she’s torn between thanking me for removing the device that she never realized could be so torturous, and begging for me to make her come.
Her fourth orgasm comes from my fingers. Slow and steady, I slip them in and out from between her legs. She’s so fucking wet and sticky, and I use her wetness to soothe her clit as I stroked my thumb on it and I crook my fingers inside her to stimulate her nerves.
Watching Emma fall apart is something I will never tire of. The way her mouth drops open and her eyes glaze over as they roll into the back of her head. She offers herself up on a damn platter, her back bowing to give me the perfect access to her straining nipples, her pussy chasing after the sensation, hoping to extend the pleasure.
I don’t give her much of a chance to recover from her orgasm. Before reality comes crashing back down on her, I roll a condom onto my cock and slip it into her hot, waiting pussy.
“Enzo!” she cries out as one orgasm extends into the next. I fuck her mercilessly. She feels like a goddamn vice squeezing my cock in her silky heat, and I’, already so damned, worked up from watching her cum again and again.
Her fifth and sixth orgasm come from my cock.
Her body is barely more than limp as I fuck her. She struggles to keep her eyes open, so worn out from the toll the pleasure took. The exertion was almost too much for her body, as I use her like a fuck-doll to chase my release. She whimpers, a pathetic little noise as her body gives me what I want. Just before my orgasm, I pull out and cover her body with my seed. I paint her, my masterpiece displayed on the bed. Arms tied up, eyes half shut, and fucking covered in cum.
She’s so fucking beautiful.
I only take a second to collect myself, knowing Emma will need me to take care of her. I release her arms from the ties and check her skin to make sure none of the knots were too tight. I use some lotion I keep on the bedside table to soothe her skin. Then I take the strawed water bottle and encouraged her to take a few sips. Pulling the blanket up, I leave her to start a warm bath.
I can fuck Emma like my personal whore all goddamn day, but she’s going to know she’s my queen when we’re done.
I carry Emma into the bathroom and sink both of our bodies into the large clawfoot tub. She sighs and lays her head back against me. Her head is floating, evidence of a good fuck.
Her body sinks against mine while the warm water soothes her sore, overworked body. “Do you want me to put Matteo to bed tonight so you can just go to bed after this?” I whisper in her ear.
She hums, struggling between the exhaustion and the responsibility she has towards our son. “Do you think he’ll go down for you? He’s not used to doing bedtime with anyone but me.”
“I have no plans to be a deadbeat father, princess. It might take us a little while to find our grove, but you just watch. Matteo and I are going to be thick as thieves in no time.” I promise her, thinking of my son. I have no delusion parenting will be easy, and that’s without the extra complication of being the heir to the Lombardi family. And I have years of parenting and bonding to make up for, so I’m going to take advantage of every opportunity that gets thrown my way.
“Don’t let him convince you to read too many books or he’ll keep you up all night,” Emma tells me. I take that as a yes.
I finish cleaning her, mourning when I wash away my cum from her skin. She’s asleep before I turn off the light once she’s in the bed. Her soft snores fill the room. I can’t find myself to mind her snoring or the way she alternates between hogging the bed and clinging to me like I’m her last chance at salvation. The blankets never stay straight on the bed. They always ended up tangled, and when she inevitably gets cold and tries to plaster herself to my side at night, I have to untangle them to cover her.
I love every second. Every second of caring for her just reminds me she’s mine.
It’s only six o’clock at night, and I should bring food up to Emma at some point so she doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night hungry, but she needs to sleep. She never complains. Between her school work, taking care of Matteo, and dealing with her overbearing father, Emma never has time for herself.
Emma may be Chris’ daughter, but he treats her like an emotional support animal. He expects to be able to give her demands that she should follow without question and achieve his dreams and goals for him. She lives as a vessel for his expectations.
I can never imagine treating Matteo like that. Even if he gets older and decides he doesn’t want to be a part of this life, then I’ll support him in finding the life that fits him.
“Hi buddy,” I say as I come into the living room where he’s playing with his toys. His brightly colored play mat and plastic toys are a stark contrast to the modern furniture. No one minds. Every little reminder of him brings joy to the household.
“Hello,” he says. He doesn’t look up from his toys and I don’t bother him anymore. I’m happy to just be in his presence.
Chapter Thirty-Six- Enzo
Andy has a bottle of Scotch set out on my office desk when I come into the room. He’s also sitting behind the desk, smoking a cigar. I wrinkle my nose. I don’t know where he got the cigar since no one in our family smokes. My father did when my parents were younger, Cuban cigars like all the cool gangsters, and my mom loathed the habit so much that she would throw any cigar she came across in the sink.
“Don’t stink up my office with that crap.”
“It was this or weed with the news I’m about to tell you, and good weed stinks worst.”
He passes me the cigar and I take a drag of it. I don’t enjoy the way it burns in my lungs and so I pass it back to him with only a little of the nicotine high. He takes one more drag himself before he puts it out and slides me some pictures. In the photo, there are footsteps leading up to the window for Matteo’s room.
“So, the monster was real?”
