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I can’t help but reach up and trace the planes of his stomach. His muscles constrict with every lick and suck from my mouth.
“Sei e’ angelo.” His words are a whisper, and though I’m not sure what he’s saying, it sounds beautiful. I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat with precision, and I start to gag. My instinct is to pull away, but he holds me in place.
“Just relax your throat so I can fuck it. You’ll learn how to control your gag reflex.” His hands clutch my hair tightly, keeping my face directed up to his. We stare into one another’s eyes until I feel his balls tightening, and his movements become jerky.
“I want you to swallow it. Swallow every drop I give you. Taste it, knowing that next time it will be in your tight little cunt.” His crude words seem to have a direct line to my pussy, which starts to throb again. I moan around his cock, making him thrust into my mouth harder.
His eyes close, and for one tiny minute in time, I get to see a part of him that is peaceful, a part of him that shows insecurity. For a moment, he is stripped bare of all other things that he will be for the day. Right now, he is mine, and I’m okay with that.
Hot semen hits the back of my throat, and though it tastes salty and absolutely disgusting, I swallow every last drop.
He smiles at me like the devil who has just stolen my soul. “I underestimated the hold you have on people. On me.” He says the words out loud, but it seems as if he is talking to himself.
“You’re very welcome, Lorenzo,” I mock him, coming to stand next to him. His eyes flare with anger and something else, something deep within. I just can’t place the look.
“You should be thanking me.”
I cock an eyebrow. Is this man ever not so full of himself? “I shouldn’t be thanking you. We should be thanking each other,” I respond haughtily. Turning on my heels, I go over to my new closet to find something to wear. Generally, I’m modest and shy about my body, but he has already seen my goodies, and his tongue has tasted them…
When I come out with my clothes in hand, he is still standing there staring at me. His finger, the one he dipped inside me over and over again, is in his mouth. He is sucking on it.
“You taste better than some of the finest wines I’ve had.” His voice is low, and the room smells of sex. I’ll be damned if every thought about not letting him fuck me flies out the window.
“Do I?” I question.
“Yes… And I’m sure you’ll only taste better as time goes on.” Time stands still between us. His words only cause the ache inside me to grow. My body begs for him, but my mind knows how fucked up this all is.
“Guess you’ll never know, will you?” I’m baiting him. This game is fire. He is dangerous, and I know he can go off at any time.
“Don’t play games with me. Get dressed. I have some stuff to do today.” His words are a command. I reach for my clothes to get dressed without thinking. He has that much power over me.
He leads me downstairs to the large, open space kitchen. The dining table is already decked when we enter. As soon as we sit down, the chef brings us each a plate with an omelet.
Lorenzo sends her and the guard out of the room before we start eating. My mind is replaying what we did in his bedroom. I thought us having oral sex would ease the tension between us. Maybe open him up a bit to me, but instead, I feel like his walls are going up even further.
“Do you have any siblings?” I ask when I’m finished with my omelet.
“No,” he simply answers.
“Me neither, but you probably knew that already.” He knew my fucking bra size, I’m sure he knows simple facts about my family relations. “What about grandparents? Or other family members? Are you close with anyone?”
“No.” He doesn’t offer anything more than that simple two-letter word. Obviously, he doesn’t want to share anything with me. That won’t stop me from sharing stuff with him. Maybe if he realizes I have a family and friends, he will be more likely to allow me a phone.
“I have a cousin I’m close to. Growing up, they lived so close that I saw her almost every day. There was a time I felt like she was my sister. They moved away when I was in sixth grade.”
Lorenzo doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask me to elaborate. A little disappointed, I get up and walk over to the sink. Placing my now empty plate in the sink, I have to fight the urge to wash it off since that’s what I’ve always done.
