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The first stroke is agony and relief combined. I’m so fucking hard I could drive nails.

“Touch yourself again,” I command, my voice rough. “I want to watch you come while I stroke my cock.”

“You don’t want me to touch you?” she asks, furrowing her brows as though she’s not sure she heard me correctly.

I chuckle darkly. “Kira, if you touch me right now, I’ll blow my load all over your hand.” Her mouth falls open. “And I’m not ready for that yet.”

Nodding, she scoots back until she’s half against the headboard, half lying down. Her legs bend, feet planted flat on the mattress. The position spreads her thighs wide. I have a perfect view of her pink, swollen cunt.

She starts touching herself. Her fingers find her clit with more confidence than before, but the rhythm is still off. Too fast, then too slow. Her hips rock into her hand, and the sounds she makes are desperate—moans that hitch and break, frustration building in each exhale.

“I can’t,” she gasps after a few minutes, her hand stilling. Her eyes are wet, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “Can’t you do it again, Domenico? I can’t do it properly. I… I don’t know how.”

“No.” I continue stroking my cock in lazy movements. “You need to learn your own body, Kira. Learn what you like.”

She lets out a long, weary sigh. “Fine,” she eventually agrees. “But don’t blame me if you don’t get the show you’re hoping for.”

It’s moments like this, where she pushes back, that she’s the most beautiful version of herself. What surprises me the most is the lack of attitude or bite. She’s not being sarcastic or a smart ass. She’s genuinely speaking what’s on her mind.

“Duly noted,” I say with a smirk. “Now, give it a go. Listen to your body and do what feels good.”

She returns her hand to her pussy, pressing her index finger against her clit.

“Your cunt is so fucking pretty,” I groan, and her breath catches. “All pink and wet for me. Look at how slick you are. I can see it from here. You’re dripping for me, Kira.”

She moves faster.

“That’s it, baby. Just like I showed you, and remember, there’s no rush.”

She obeys, and a moan tears from her throat. Her hips lift off the mattress, chasing her own touch.

“My cock is so hard for you,” I continue, my voice dropping lower, rougher. I stroke myself in time with my words, slow and deliberate.

“Domenico,” she whimpers, and the sound of my name on her lips, broken and needy, nearly undoes me.

“Keep going. You’re doing so well. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, and I can see it. I can see every twitch, every pulse. You want to be filled, don’t you? You want something inside you while you rub that pretty little clit.”

She moans louder this time, and her fingers move faster. Her free hand grips the sheet beside her hip, twisting the fabric until her knuckles are white.

“Mmm, we’ll do this every night,” I rasp. “Practice makes perfect, so I’ll make sure you get all the practice you need to learn how to make yourself come.”

She cries out—my name, a sob, something wordless and raw—and her body locks. Her back arches off the mattress, her cunt clenching visibly around nothing, her thighs trembling so hard the bed shakes.

Her orgasm rolls through her in waves. My fist pumps my cock as I watch every second of it. When she collapses, her chest heaving, I move.

I get up on my knees between her spread legs and stroke myself faster. My cock is slick with pre-cum, the head flushed dark, veins standing out along the shaft. I’m so close it hurts.

“Come here,” I command.

She moves closer, and once she’s within reach, I position her so her head is level with my cock.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

“L-like this?” she asks, which sounds kind of weird with her tongue sticking out. But fuck if that isn’t hot at the same time.

I swipe the head of my cock against her outstretched tongue, squeezing. “You’re going to take my load, aren’t you, baby?” She retrieves her tongue and swallows thickly. “Mmm, how do I taste?”

“Salty,” she admits, coyly peering up at me from beneath her lashes.