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“I’m so close,” I whimper, arching my back. “I’m going to come on your cock, Lorenzo?—”
“No, you’re not. Not until you say it.” He jerks out of me, making me cry out again at the sudden, aching hollowness left behind. He spins me like a doll, his hand still gripping my hair, pushing me to my knees in front of him. My lips are an inch from his stiff cock, throbbing visibly, glistening with my arousal and dripping with his. My mouth opens before I can stop myself, looking up at him as he guides the tip against my lips.
“You are mine,” Lorenzo murmurs, pushing the swollen head into my mouth. “Look at you. On your knees, all but begging for me to fuck your face. I’ll fuck every one of your holes without letting you come until you say it. Is this what you wanted, Mila? For me to take you like this? Fuck you like this?”
My eyes water as he pushes his cock into my mouth, my lips stretching around his width, but I nod wordlessly. This is what I want, some dark, deeply held desire that I didn’t know I had rising to the surface, making me want things I never thought I would. I want him to devour me, to make me his, to take what he wants.
All this time, I wanted to know what it would take for him to lose control. Tonight, I found out. And it’s driving me as wild with desire as I can see it is for him.
His hand tightens in my hair, holding my head still, and he starts to fuck my face.
It’s relentless. His cock fills my mouth again and again, sliding over my tongue, into the back of my throat until I’m choking on him. I cough when he pulls out, and he gives me only a second to breathe before he thrusts hard again, dragging me down his length until my lips brush against his abs, and all I can taste and feel is him. “God, dolce,” he snarls, his voice wracked with arousal, his eyes so dark they’re hardly green any longer. “I’m so fucking hard. I could come all over your pretty face and stay hard after. Do you want that, principessa? Your face dripping with my cum while I fuck your other holes?”
I can’t speak, but I try to nod as he thrusts his cock into my throat again, his hand gripping the back of my head as his hips rock against my lips, pushing himself deeper. His face is wild with lust, his fingers digging into the back of my head as he suddenly pulls free, his other hand wrapping around his length as he begins to stroke feverishly.
“Fuck, Mila,” he breathes, his hand gripping himself hard as the wet sound of flesh against flesh fills the room. “God, I’m going to come all over your pretty face?—”
The first spurt of it coats my lips, my tongue, the taste of him filling my mouth as the next hot stripe of his cum lashes over my cheek. It spurts across the bridge of my nose, my mouth, Lorenzo’s face taut with pleasure as he groans, cock throbbing as he paints my face with his cum.
“God, you look so fucking gorgeous—” he breathes, still stroking, his cock still stiff as he rubs the swollen tip against my cheek. “I could keep you like this. Covered in my cum, ready and wet for me?—”
He pulls me up to my feet suddenly, still hard as he spins me to face the table again. “Say it, dolce,” he breathes, dragging my skirt up again. “Say you’re mine.”
My reflection in the mirror suggests that I should. I can see myself, face flushed and streaked with his cum, the taste of him still on my lips, my neat bun falling out of its pins as Lorenzo curls a hand around the front of my throat. “Say it, and you can come, Mila.”
My clit feels swollen and aching, my desire nearly painful by now. I feel hot and flushed, my skin too tight, every part of me begging for an orgasm. But a part of me wants to find out what else he’ll do, to make me say it.
“No,” I whisper defiantly, meeting his gaze in the mirror, and Lorenzo’s eyes darken all over again.
He throws my skirt to one side, his fingers parting my folds, pushing into my soaked pussy. “This says otherwise,” he breathes. “But maybe you don’t want your orgasm badly enough yet, dolce.”
The feeling of his fingers in me, his thumb on my clit as he strokes his cock with his other hand, bringing himself back to a full erection, makes my knees weak. I’m breathless with the need to come, trembling, but I want to push him to his limit. His control has finally snapped, and I want to take it to its inevitable conclusion.
Only then, at the end of all of this, will I know who he really is.
The blunt head of his cock presses at my entrance, his hips snapping forward again, and I gasp as he sinks himself into me. His thrusts are hard and merciless, one hand still wrapped in my hair as he looks at my reflection in the mirror.
“Say it, and you can come, dolce,” he purrs, reaching up with one hand to press his thumb to the corner of my mouth, where my lips are still sticky with his cum. I can smell my arousal on his fingers. The room is full of it, the scents of sweat and sex, the hard, rough sounds of his hips meeting mine again and again, the noise wet and obvious to anyone walking by. The thought makes me tremble, clenching around his cock, and Lorenzo growls low in his throat.
“What are you thinking of, principessa?” he murmurs, thrusting hard again and rolling his hips against the slender curve of my ass. “I can feel you tightening around me.” His lips brush against my ear. “Think about it again.”
I close my eyes, the image of the other ballerinas stopping in the hall—whispering at the sounds of me being fucked hard on the other side of the door—sending another spasm of pleasure through me. Lorenzo tugs on my hair, hard.
“Keep your eyes open, dolce,” he growls. “I want to see everything.”
He’s possessing me an inch at a time, taking over every part of me, and I want to surrender to it entirely. His hand drops from my mouth, pushing my skirt higher around my waist and draping it across so that I’m entirely bared to him from the waist down. I feel him palm the curve of my ass as he slows his thrusts slightly, letting me feel every thick inch as he rocks in and out of me. And then, just as another helpless moan slips from my mouth, I feel his fingers, still damp with my arousal, slide against the tight hole just above where his cock fills me.
“Lorenzo!” His name comes out, half shocked gasp, half frightened squeak. His thumb presses against the tight muscle, circling, and I let out a breathless moan that makes him chuckle deep in his throat.
“Have you been fucked here, Mila? Has anyone fucked this pretty ass?” His thumb presses harder, dipping inside, and I involuntarily tighten around his still-thrusting cock.
“No,” I whisper, and the word has no sooner slipped from my mouth than I know exactly what he’s going to do.
“Good,” Lorenzo growls. He thrusts once more, hard, hips rocking as he fucks my ass with the tip of his thumb. I moan, overwhelmed with the feeling of possession, my lips still tasting of his cum while he’s filling me everywhere else. I feel wanton, filthy, and it’s everything I wanted. “Say you’re mine, Mila, and I’ll make you come before I fuck your ass. Otherwise, you’ll come on my cock while I fill your ass with my cum.”
A shiver of lust grips me, rippling through my body as my mouth falls open, a keening moan spilling out. “Please,” I whisper, trembling, my knees barely able to hold me up as Lorenzo fixes his gaze on mine in the mirror, a dark smile curving his lips.
“You asked for it, dolce,” he murmurs, and slips his cock free.
