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“Well, I guess I’m just naturally gifted,” I reply, my mouth dry and at a loss for words as my heart rate quickens.
He’s angling for something, and I believe with all my heart that thesomethingis sex. He needs to just swing me over his shoulder into his lap, forcing me to feel his hard cock pressing against me through his pants.
My knees begin to grow weak as I move my hands down the front of his shirt to his pecs. Every inch of him is so tense, like he’s never taken a day off since the day he turned seven years old. He spends a considerable amount of time at the gym, that much is obvious. He’s got his own private gym as well as a personal trainer, which I guess is exactly what celebrities do to stay in shape like this. Matteo is kind of a celebrity in his own right, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a little fan club somewhere in the city.
“You can move down lower if you want to,” he says, his voice low and dark from the bourbon coating his vocal cords. He’s been smoking too, which adds a mystery and depth to his tone.
My heart skips a few beats. Do I give in to my urges, finally with the express permission to do so? Or do I force him to wait just because that’s what he’s done to me this whole time?
I’m losing my mind right now, buzzing all over simply from contact with this man. I’ve never been so smitten by anyone in my life, and now I might be throwing away the chance to have him for what? To get even? Is that who I am now?
Even my breaths are shaky as I slowly reach down, feeling the ripple of his abs under his shirt.
He doesn’t move at all, not moving away or taking my hand to move it lower. He’s allowing me to take my time with him, and I’m grateful to not be rushed. I want to feel every bit of this moment.
I knew that this would happen eventually. After I felt that first spark, it felt inevitable, like a pull from the universe. It was the wait that I couldn’t stand, but here I am, touching him with no reservation or self-consciousness.
But does he want me to make the next move?
I’m afraid to reach down any lower. What if this is all just a sick game? What if he knows how I feel about him and is choosing to tease me until I die of desperation? It would be cruel, but coming from a mafia boss, I would be a fool to say that I didn’t see it coming.
Just as I’m about to start questioning even further, pulling my hands back, he turns his head as his lips meet mine, and he kisses me deeply and passionately. He pulls my arms around his neck instead of forcing my hands down to his cock, which gives the moment a much more intimate feeling than I would have expected from him.
Within seconds, I’m lost in the kiss. I flood my panties with my arousal just as quickly, feeling the wetness from my sweat mingling with my pure, unhinged desire for Matteo’s cock inside of me. Every sexual encounter before this was lacking this electricity, this mutual obsession. I’ve settled for far too little in the past, and now I know I’m about to get what I deserve.
He pulls me around until I’m sitting on his lap, and he opens my legs to immediately begin stroking my pussy. I whimper as soon as I feel his touch, and he smiles into my mouth as he continues to kiss me.
“Is this what you’ve wanted? Is this what you were thinking about the other night when I found you playing with yourself in your bed?” he growls, finding my clit and lightly stroking it with his middle finger.
“Yes,” I moan, barely able to get a word out as I’m taken over by my lust.
I never knew that sexual desire could be this all-encompassing. I always believed that the mystery of it, the curiosity, was what drove sexual relationships. Once you’re there with the other person, it’s supposed to be awkward and realistic and gross.
But here with Matteo, I feel what the writers of love songs felt as they poured their hearts out onto paper for their lover. I feel the same earth-shattering, vehement pull toward him that no other man in my life has been able to replicate.
He slides my shorts over to the side, staring down at my pussy and smiling that same impish grin that has haunted every dream since I arrived here.
“Jesus, your pussy is even nicer than I remember. I’ll bet it tastes just as sweet,” he says, slipping two fingers inside of me as I moan out loud.
“Shh, do you want Leonardo to hear you? Do you want everyone here to know how much of a needy slut you are?” he continues, fingering me harder, as if to taunt me for being unable to control myself.
It feels as if he’s accessed my soul through my cervix and is attempting to pull it out. My mind is full of stars and darkness, bursts of light as he finds my sweet spot. Few men have been able to find it, and even fewer have known what to do with it when they find it.
But Matteo knows exactly when he’s located my most sensitive area, and he begins to play with it as if he’s been making me cum for years on end.
With the perfect amount of pressure, he presses into the front wall of my vagina as he continues to pull at the ribbons of my soul that are coming undone. I’m sitting on his lap still, my legs shaking as his leg grows wet underneath me.
Just when I believe that this couldn’t be anymore overwhelming, he begins to use his thumb to rub my clit as he fingers me.
I’m squirming so much that he needs to hold me still with his other arm, and my convulsions of pleasure are concentrated down to my legs from his restraint.
I want everyone to hear me. I need everyone to know that I’ve reached the ceiling of sexual pleasure in my life in a way that I believed was impossible or exaggerated. The obsession that the world has with sex finally makes sense to me now.
As he continues to finger me, my pussy begins to squirt all over his hands moments before the most intense orgasm of my life takes over me.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers as I soak the front of his shirt.
I’m so overwhelmed by the orgasm and my newfound squirting ability that I swear my mind goes offline for a moment or two.
