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His fingers grazed my backside, then moved to my wet slit. “Quiet.”
I hissed at the sudden motion, doing my best to keep my eyes on his black wingtips. He rubbed his hand over my cheek as the doors opened with a ding. We were on the top floor of the apartment building. After our first few times together, Marcello started bringing me here because he thought we would get caught otherwise.
He released his grip on me. “Get up.”
Standing up straight, I moved my dress back into place. His eyes were dark and angry, like the ocean at night before a storm. So much fire and intensity blazed behind those denim irises.
He guided me off the elevator and into a lavish foyer. The apartment had Carrera marble floors, dozens of expensive paintings and artwork donning the walls. We walked into the open concept living room with dark leather furniture, polished wood tables, and a wall of windows that reached the high ceiling.
Marcello clamped his hands on my shoulders and pulled me back into his chest. I already knew he would be rough with me. He had dark tastes and liked things a certain way.
Without a word, Marcello led me upstairs and down a long hallway. He stopped in front of the wooden French doors, and as he turned the handle, my heart pounded.
His breath tickled my ear, leaving a trail of bumps along my hot skin. “Be a good girl and take this dress off for me.”
Marcello sat on the bed, his eyes on me as I lifted the dress over my head. Nervous energy danced along my skin, causing the anxiety to creep up the back of my throat. The air conditioning left a chill in the air, tiny bumps dotting my skin. His eyes traveled over every inch of me with care. I felt like a painting hung on the wall in an art gallery, on display for him.
As if committing every feature to memory, he raked over my breasts with a greedy look in his eyes and licked his lips. Marcello exuded self-control, something I desperately lacked at the moment. When he looked at me like he wanted to eat me, I couldn’t get enough of him. I wanted to lose myself with him, forget about the fact we could never be together and just let go.
“Touch yourself, princess.” His voice was low and sensual, his elbow propped up on the mattress. “Sit in the chair behind you and spread your legs for me.”
I never thought I could be submissive to him. But I liked the way Marcello barked out orders for me to follow. Pleasing him made me happy.
I followed his instruction.
When I opened my legs, his lips parted. “Wider.”
I lifted my legs and rested them on the arms of the chair, giving him the perfect view.
“That’s a good girl,” he grunted. “Now, play with yourself. Show me how you make yourself come.”
I made slow circular motions with my thumb and wet my lips with my tongue. “I want you to come with me.”
He shook his head. “Not this time.”
An orgasm built inside me like a volcano, slow and steady until I was ready to erupt. My legs trembled, my insides on fire, throbbing with need, wishing he would fill me up.
What is he doing to me?
I had never felt more exposed or vulnerable in my life. But I was beyond horny, the lack of oxygen to my brain decimating my willpower.
He licked his lips and stroked himself gently over his pants. I dragged my finger along my wet folds to test my slickness before shoving two fingers inside me.
Running a hand through his hair, he breathed heavier once I rolled my thumb over my clit. “That’s it, Rhi. Fuck, baby, you look good enough to eat.”
“You should taste me, Marcello.”
“Not yet.”
“Marcello,” I cried out.
He sat up, propping his elbows on his thighs and inspected each movement. “You ready for my cock, bad girl?”
“Yes. Come touch me.”
“Patience, princess.” He scrubbed a hand across his jaw, his resolve fading. “Keep going. Don’t stop until I tell you.”
I picked up the pace, spreading my legs wider for Marcello. He needed to see me. See what he was doing to me. I was so close to hitting the spot, and my body grew warmer, the heat radiating through me in waves. My nipples were so hard they ached for his tongue, his mouth. I wanted him to kiss, lick, and suck every inch of me.
“Tell me when you’re about to come,” Marcello said.
“Now,” I whimpered, on the edge of freedom, so close to reaching the finish line.
“Stop,” Marcello growled with fire behind his words.
I stilled for a second. But he should have known better than to think I would follow all of his orders. Not with my orgasm right there, so close I could see the finish line. I wanted to come so badly I kept moving my fingers to the same rhythm as before, chasing my high with desperate need.
