Page 38 of Savage Ambition

He moved up to brace himself over me once more, his weight a delicious pressure. The hard length of his cock pressed against my thigh, hot and insistent. “Who could resist you?”

When his lips claimed mine again, I tasted myself on his tongue. The salt and bitterness made me moan. Combined with his scent surrounding me, it was like being drugged.

“There’s a condom in my robe pocket,” I managed between kisses.

He retrieved it, putting on a deliberate show of bending over to give me and our audience a view of his perfect ass. The muscles in his back flexed as he straightened, returning to kneel between my legs.

Tearing open the packet, he then rolled the condom on with ease. He positioned himself at my entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my hole without breaching it.

“Tell me you want this,” he commanded.

“I want it,” I said, the words honest in a way I rarely allowed myself to be. “I want you inside me.” The desperation I felt to be penetrated by him astounded me.

He pushed forward in a slow, inexorable thrust that made me gasp at the stretch. The burn of penetration gave way to a fullness that bordered on too much as his cock filled me. Once seated, he paused, allowing me to adjust.

The fullness was exquisite, his erection hitting places inside me that made me ache. When he moved, it was to music only he could hear, his hips rolling in a cadence that alternated between punishingly deep and teasingly shallow.

Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure radiating from where we were joined. A soundtrack played of the wet slap of our bodies connecting and the groan of the bed beneath us.

His hands never stopped moving. He coaxed new noises from me I never made with clients because none of them had ever made me feel so good, not even Shaw. When he gripped my hips to change the angle, I cried out in genuine pleasure.

I’d been fucked by so many men I had lost count. By clients who wanted to use me, by those who wanted to worship me, by men who thought their pathetic skills would impress me. But Renato was the first to make me feel like sex was a new and exciting form of ecstasy again. He had accomplished the impossible.

I rocked against him, chasing the pleasure he offered with an abandon I’d never experienced within the walls of Gennaro Corporation. My hands explored the planes of his back, feeling the muscles flex and release as he moved inside me.

Each breath filled my lungs with his scent, making me dizzy with want. Despite countless clients over my years at the brothel, I’d never been with someone who made me forget the viewer and everything beyond where our bodies connected.

My second orgasm built more slowly than the first. I hooked my legs around his ass, using the leverage to drive him deeper, to make him hit that spot with every thrust that made me want to scream.

Right when I approached my peak, he cruelly slowed his pace. I glared up at him, genuine fury mixing with desperate need. “Don’t you dare fucking stop!”

“But I want to make sure this is a moment you’ll always remember.” He kissed me again, the gentleness of before replaced by aggressive possession. His tongue invaded my mouth as a parallel of what his cock was doing to my body as he claimed me.

When he reached between our bodies to stroke my dick in time with his now-shallow thrusts, I broke the kiss with a cry.

“I never want you to forget what it’s like to be pleasured by me,” he said between dominating kisses. “Tell me how it feels to have my cock inside you. Tell me no one’s ever fucked you this good before.”

“No one has,” I admitted, the truth slipping out. For Salvatore’s benefit, I added a theatrical moan that sounded fake, but the honest confession in my voice wasn’t manufactured.

“You’re going to think about this when you’re with other clients,” Renato continued, his accent a dangerous caress. “You’ll close your eyes and wish it was me making you come.” He punctuated the statement with a rough thrust that ripped another cry from me as my muscles tensed in anticipation of the release swelling within me.

“Fuck, yes,” I gasped.

His laugh was dark and knowing. “And no one ever will again.”

I’d heard similar boasts from countless men, the empty promises from clients who thought their dick was God’s gift to mankind. But from Renato’s lips, it sounded like a prophecy, one my body was eager to fulfill.

“You enjoy being watched, don’t you?” He nodded toward the mirror. “Knowing someone’s on the other side, seeing how completely I’ve claimed you.”

The mention of Salvatore should have been like ice water on my arousal. Instead, it added a dangerous edge to my pleasure, the risk of showing too much, of revealing how thoroughly Renato was unraveling me.

“I put on a good show,” I countered, trying to regain some control over the narrative.

“Then show him how beautiful you are when you come apart for me.” He punctuated his command with a change of angle. The sensation bordered on painful, too much stimulation after my earlier orgasm, but I responded with a fresh surge of arousal. “Look at you. So hungry for it. So desperate to be filled. Your body’s begging for my cum, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I hissed, the word stripped of artifice.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, slowing down to a maddening crawl. “Make me believe it.”