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I pretend to think about it and then shake my head. “No, it’s not made up yet. Unless that’s an invitation to get into your bed.”
Then I swing a leg over his and climb into his lap.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks as I wind my arm around his neck.
I kiss the corner of his mouth and run my tongue slowly along the seam. “I’d have thought it obvious. You’re in my blood, and you shouldn’t be. So, maybe I need to get you out of my system.”
“Karlee—”
I kiss him, bring my mouth down on his, and slide my tongue into the wet, hot depths of his mouth. The core of me starts to throb from his taste, from all the possibilities, even though he’s not kissing me back.
He winds his hand into both pig tails and pulls my head up, my mouth off his, and a small little moan of protest breaks free.
His eyes glitter as he looks at me, his cock growing hard and big between my thighs. I try to rock on him, but his other hand clamps on my waist, holding me still, just out of reach of that hard and massive tool that’s made to fit me perfectly.
“You’re turned on because I work for the mafia.”
“Like the ultimate bad boy?”
“Something like that, Karlee. Tell me I’m wrong.”
It shouldn’t turn me on, but it does. But he turns me on even more. “You’re both right and wrong. You already turned me on.”
I pull hard, pain smacking into my scalp as I move forward, and he unravels his hand. Slowly, making it last. But I reach his mouth, and I kiss him hard. That sweetness is elevated by that pain, and he kisses me back, mouth open and hot, tongue in control as it taunts, teases, and dances.
He takes both my hips and moves me up so my pussy is right on his cock. I rock on it, everything in me a cascade of pleasure, need, and climbing passion.
He can draw beauty from pain, pleasure from a taunt. He kisses me with dark carnality, taking me down into hot dark depths, only to spin me higher.
Now he lets go of my hips, his hand dragging at the back of my scalp, his other coming to touch me between my thighs, and it’s electric. His thumb stroking my clit as his mouth slips down over my throat to suck and bite, to lick and kiss, over and over until my senses are being ripped apart. My clit and that spot on my throat are hot spots of quivering, almost unbearable pleasure. The kind of pleasure I want to both push into and recoil from, the kind that makes breathing hard and everything oversensitive.
Then there’s that constant pull on my hair at the back of my head that grounds me down into him.
He twists his fingers up to grab my pig tails, and then he pulls, arching my head back, my throat his for the taking, on offer, and he does. Moving from the spot he’s ravishing to tease me here and there, his tongue traces paths on my skin that sear down into me.
I’m a mess. I’m not usually loud with sex. This isn’t even sex. I don’t know what the fuck this is. But whatever it is overwhelms and elevates and drags me down into him over and over that I’m moaning loud, I can’t even form words.
But through the haze in my head, I know I want more. I need it.
I want his cock, that big beautiful thing that’s straining between my legs.
Tizio bites me hard, so hard I yelp, and then his hand comes from between my thighs to rip at the buttons on my top.
“You’re fucking playing with fire, and I fucking warned you,” he says.
“I like fire.”
“You’re too young.”
“I’m way over the age of consent and don’t flatter yourself. I’m not enamored, I just want you.” I undo the zipper on his jeans and pull out his cock. It’s hard, big, and I can barely fit my hand around it. “I want this.”
“You don’t know what to do with that.”
“Maybe you’re scared you can’t deal.”
He laughs and bites my nipple through my bra, sucking on it. I scream out, shoving my breast at him because it feels so good. Each bite and suck and pull reaches all the way down to stroke my clit. I’m shaking and trying to give him a hand job.
He comes up to bite my throat, then up to my ear. “This is a mistake, and you know it.”
