Page 66 of Sinful Lord

Melina just nods, eyes still clamped shut.

“Here, try this. I want it inside of you.”

But when I try to replace her fingers with the silicone replica of my cock, Melina stubbornly shakes her head.

“It’s too much,” she quietly rasps.

My cock twitches, desperate to see something fill up her tiny hole. But I don’t let it take control. Not yet.

“Alright,” I nod. “We can go as slow as you want.”

“Thank you,” she whispers.

I’m rewarded for my patience as Melina builds her way to another orgasm. This time, though, she doesn’t shake so violently. Instead, her flat stomach and perky chest start to softly undulate and heave against the growing pressure applied between her legs.

It's an incredible sight. But it’s not enough.

Fortunately, Melina doesn’t stop me when I start to lead her wrist in faster strokes… or when I place my giant hand on the back of her tiny one, pressing her palm deeper into her pussy so that I can feel her swollen clit against my skin again.

“That’s a good girl,” I groan, my hips practically thrusting in the air as my cock begs for more. “Let me take care of you.”

When I gently pinch her clit between two of my fingers, Melina lets out a sharp gasp. Her hazel eyes rip open and immediately search for me.

When they land on my strong gaze, they twinkle. My racing heart flutters. I start to rub her clit faster.

“Can you cum for me again, angel?” I ask, staring deep into her soul. “Will you?”

“Yes,” she rasps. “Yes… yes…”

At first, her voice fades and her breathing increases. Then I stop rubbing and start twisting and her cries come rushing out at full volume, only to crescendo in a single unbroken wail.

“Hold on just a little longer,” I demand, sneering down at her with an animalistic urge. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“No. Tytus. I can’t—”

Melina’s nails dig into my forearm as she holds on for dear life. Her hips lift off the ground, pumping into my hand. I don’t tease her for much longer. I can’t. I want her to bathe my hand in cum.

And with one last primal cry, she does just that.

I nearly cream my own fucking pants at the sight of her writhing body. Somehow, though, I manage to keep pumping until exhaustion takes over Melina’s pale little body.

“How was that, angel?” I ask when she finally slumps into the bed.

Her arms flail outward, her head sinks into the mattress. Deep breaths swirl out of her parted lips, each one lifting her pretty chest a little higher.

“Good…” is all she can manage to rasp.

I can’t help but chuckle. And for a moment, all I do is sit here and watch her slowly sink into the satisfaction.

Then my phone starts to vibrate.

At first, I ignore it—I know who’s messaging me, and I don’t want to let her break into this intimate moment—but then another text comes through, and another. Soon enough, it’s like an avalanche is buzzing in my pocket.

Fucking hell.

I sneer at the thought of Yasha furiously typing away. It has to be her, after all. The heiress is the only one who has this number. The last thing I want is to bring another girl into this tiny apartment—even if it’s just in thought.

But I’m guessing Yasha has finally seen the message I sent her as I raced over here. She knows how much trouble she’s in. She’ll try and dig her way out of it.