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Forget slow. I needed her fast. Slow could wait for another day.
“Spread your legs,” I ordered.
She bit her soft bottom lip, looked defiant for a moment. I punished her, sucking her breasts hard, nibbling and tonguing the tips until she moaned, her breathing ragged.
My trousers were off now, and when I pulled back, she saw the thick length of my arousal and blushed.
“Spread them,” I ordered again.
Trembling, she did what I had demanded, parting her silky thighs, revealing the sweet pink silk of her pretty pussy.
God, she was gorgeous. I could have eaten her up if I wasn’t so desperate to be inside her.
Impatiently, I turned her over onto her knees. She should have obeyed me the first time. I spanked her arse, and she cried out. I ran my fingers through her slit and found her oh so wet. I spanked her again. “Next time you listen to me the first time.”
She nodded.
With her back against my chest, I played with her tits and took my time kissing that beautiful mouth of hers, and all the while her needy ass writhed, begging for me.
I pushed her onto her hands and knees and gripped her hips. Took her in a single thrust that made her cry out at the suddenness of my thick shaft plunging into her tight little channel.
“Marco!” she gasped.
“Yeah baby?”
Her hands clawed the sheets. “Please,” she begged.
I spanked her ass, then withdrew, and plunged into her again, over and over, my jaw clenched, my breath ragged at the exquisite feel of her wrapped so tightly around me.
“Please,” she begged in desperation. “Please.”
She needed to come, but I thrust on, refusing to give her what she craved. The feeling of me on her clit.
When she reached between her own legs, too desperate to stop herself, I pushed her hand away. “You don’t come until I say you can.”
I flipped her over onto her back. Her legs spread readily this time. She wanted me thrusting where she could feel my shaft on her sweet little clit.
I flicked her there, once, and she arched up off the bed, her thighs clamping my hand, wanting to keep it there.
Laughing, I withdrew my touch.
“Not so fast, baby,” I mocked.
I pulled her legs over my shoulders, angling her so that I could ride her hard without giving her that one bit of exquisite touch she craved so badly.
And only when she was begging my name hoarsely, only when I was drunk on the feel of her, only when I felt the roaring rush of a carnal tsunami rising inside me, did I flick her sweet little button again, working it in brisk circles until she screamed and thrashed and came.
And so did I, pumping into her over and over until I was done. Then collapsed in sweet abandon on top of her, gathered her against my side, stunned.
Damn. That had, without a doubt, been the best sex of my life. Too bad it had been with a Bordello girl.
I drowsed in the aftermath, enjoying the feeling of her tucked against me.
Sanity came back to me slowly. I chuckled drowsily. I liked the hedonistic life—the freedom to fight and fuck and die young on my own terms if I had to—too much to give it up for some woman, let alone a Bordello girl.
One day, things would end for me like they had for my father. So no amount of nagging by my mother would make me settle down.
But boy, had this been one sweet ride.
