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The electric hand dryer in the washroom, plus a locally knitted sweater and hat with mittens, were like a godsend.
It’s also the first thing I’ve ever bought with a real hundred-dollar bill.
And that’s something else I’ve never had either. Real money.
I’ve got a million questions, but it’s clear Rocco’s more a man of action than words. And once I see the winding road he takes, leading up to the giant silhouette of a house on a hill through the sheets of rain and lightning, I figure he knows where he’s going.
Once we reach the gates, it’s clear that the ‘old’ house is under some kind of major renovation.
A temporary site fence with the main gate collapsed is all that stops us from getting inside.
That and the padlocked doors, but Rocco has us inside in seconds, using something from his pocket to force the lock.
He shrugs with a guilty smile, taking my hand in his but making sure he goes first.
I don’t think anyone’s been here for some time, but the scent of sawed lumber and old plaster fills my senses, along with the trailing warmth of Rocco’s cologne.
The man just smells so damned good no matter where he is or what’s happening.
There’s a dim light from one of the biggest rooms nearest the entrance. Most likely a light left on by whoever’s rebuilding the place.
But the place feels as empty as a cemetery tonight, save for ourselves.
He wastes no time in finding the living room and the fireplace. Casually announcing he’s gonna get a fire going, he slips out of his jacket and peels off his T-shirt.
Ummm… I think your fire’s already lit, Rocco….
The same applies when he muses aloud that he’s gonna need to find some wood.
Shamelessly sliding his jeans off, I can see his wood clearly, and yeah.
It’s getting hot in here already. No actual flames required.
“Maybe there’s wood under here,” he mutters, lifting some canvas by the fireplace, smacking his lips in victory when he finds what he’s looking for.
But me?
I’m already undone.
On my knees and unable to keep upright at the sight of the man, totally naked, his huge cock bobbing against his belly like it’s not the most amazing thing in the world.
It’s not until I’m on all fours, feeling my pussy pulse and quiver under my clothes, that he turns. Letting me see the smirk on his face. That knowing look he gives me once he lets me know without a word that he’s got me right where he wants me.
I’m his alright.
And he’s got me so horny right now I’d literally do anything he asked, as long as it meant him filling me with that huge dick of his.
“Rocco,” I whisper hoarsely, but his need is as great as my own.
In three long strides across the room, he lifts me up like I weigh nothing and heads for the nearest piece of furniture.
Rocco pulls the drop sheet off the huge, ancient leather sofa like a magician performing a trick.
But no plates and glasses are left standing, only me on my back.
I melt under his touch as he firmly and swiftly yanks my clothes off, tossing them aside like I’ll never need them again.
“Now, my little kidnapped virgin,” he growls with authority, letting his eyes run all over me as he savors the moment.
