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“It’s going to take Fran at least half an hour to wash and brush her hair. We still have some time.”
He chuckled and the vibration spread on my skin, making me explode in goosebumps.
“God, I love you.” He said laughing and I had a knee-jerk reaction to his words.
“Don’t.” For his own good, he couldn’t. “Don’t love me, Roman. I don’t want you to love me, I want you to make me feel amazing.”
“You want me to fuck you.” He looked up at me, but I couldn’t hold his gaze. “Fine, baby. I’ll fuck you like I don’t love you.”
He found a ball of fondant on a table nearby and stuffed it in my mouth.
“What…?” It’s all I got to say before being gagged with that sweet ball of sugar.
“I can’t let you scream, Salva. We don’t want our girl to hear you.” He winked. “And you’ll want to scream, baby.”
The white dress with small, black polka dots I had on gave him easy access and with one striking move, he hiked the material up and exposed me from the waist down. He had no problem pulling the material from under my ass.
His thief hand slipped in my underwear so fast, and he started playing with my pussy with one wandering finger. I was already drenched in my own desire, so Roman didn’t have to work to get me going. I was ready to be taken. After all, Roman’s superpower was to make me turn into a puddle just with one look.
He ignored my mumbled command to move faster and freed my boobs instead. I pushed my chest toward him, but instead of giving me what I wanted, he grabbed one of my tits and then slapped it.
“Only the women I love get their boobs sucked, amore.” He hooked his arms under my knees and pulled me to the edge of the bench. “We’re here to fuck, remember? Lay back, amore.”
I laid flat on top of the working table, very aware that I would be covered in flour and residue dough, and not caring one bit. Roman pushed my underwear with one hand while with the other, he freed his cock from his swim trunks. When I took my next breath, he was already inside me pushing to get deeper. The earth shattered again. My nerves, from my groin to the tips of my fingers, were all tight and tingling with small pulsations of pleasure.
He didn’t give me any time to adjust. After grabbing my thighs, he began thrusting at a fast pace, sliding in and out of me, and I bit into the fondant as hard as I could. He was right, I wanted to scream his name. I wanted to beg and plead. My skin was crawling with pleasure, every pore exuding my need for release. I was being fucked, but what we had was way beyond that. It was beyond the carnal call of the flesh between a man and a woman. My soul was making love to his. At this moment I wasn’t just the mother of his child, or another woman. Roman wasn’t a gangster or just some man looking to release the pressure in his balls. We were energy melting together.
Unable to stay still anymore, I threw my hands on his shoulders, splashing flour on his face, and I pulled him to me. I couldn’t kiss him because of the gag, but feeling his mouth on the thin, sensitive skin on my neck was good enough.
Roman moved his hips in a circle and went so deep inside me, I lost consciousness for a second. A thick black veil fell over my eyes and when I could see again, there were fireworks playing on the ceiling. I dissolved into waves and waves of orgasmic bliss. The pleasure was so intense I felt like my body was too small to contain it all. Roman followed soon, releasing his load inside me while growling my name through his teeth.
I took out the gag and he kissed me with unbelievable intensity.
“You taste so sweet.” He whispered on my lips.
“Yeah, you just stuffed me with fondant, brown eyes.”
“Fuck, Salvatrice. Damn you, you always feel incredible, my love.”
“No love.” I reminded him through rough breaths while I tried to refill my lungs.
“I’m not going to call you a slut, Salvatrice.”
That was not what I’d meant, but I didn’t get to tell him that because I heard the sound of an opening door and Romina running down the stairs.
“Damn it.” I pushed Roman off and arranged my dress in a rush. “Cover yourself, Roman.”
“What?”
He wasn’t sure what was going on, but Romina’s voice made it very clear.
“Mama?”
“In the back, Remy.”
She pushed through the swing doors leading to my baking kitchen and I stepped in front of Roman to cover him while he was still fixing his pants.
“I’m clean. Aunt Francesca said I’m good to go.”
