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“Luca? Your secretary will be here any second.”
“I know.” I kiss her shoulder, grab her butt cheeks and reposition her on my, once again, hard cock. “And you’re staying right where you are. Is that clear, Isabella?”
She’s silent for a few moments, then turns her head so her lips are just near my ear. “Yes, Mr. Rossi,” she whispers, and my cock hardens even more.
“Do you have any idea”—she starts moving her pelvis forward, then back, slowly—“how much it turns me on”—a slight rotation of her hips—“when you order me around?”
I grit my teeth, trying to stay composed, but a growl still manages to leave my lips. “Tell me.”
“It makes me so wet that I’m seriously considering wearing two pairs of panties if you continue.” She bites my earlobe. “You know what makes me even wetter?”
Jesus. Don’t say it.
“When I obey, Luca.”
I explode inside of her the instant my name leaves her lips. “Fuck.”
There’s a knock at the door, and Magda enters holding a stack of papers in her hand but then stops midstep. Her gaze passes over the overturned laptop on the floor, the papers scattered about, and finally stops on Isabella sitting on my lap. The desk provides some cover, but she can’t have missed Isabella’s dress pulled up to just below her breasts.
“I-i-is it a bad time?” she stutters.
Isabella straightens on my lap and throws a look over her shoulder. “Not at all, Magda. Please leave the papers on the sofa.”
My secretary rushes to drop off the papers, then hightails it out of the office in record time, closing the door with a bang.
“I need two minutes,” I say through my teeth. I can’t believe I came without waiting for her. Like I’m some teenager.
“No time. I have to go back home.”
I squeeze her ass. “You’re not leaving this office with a lower orgasm score than me.”
Holding her under her ass, I stand up and carry her to the bathroom, where I clean us up, then carry her back. I set her onto the desk, sit down in my chair, and place my hands behind her knees. “Lie down.”
“What if someone comes in?”
“They’ll turn around and leave.” I fix her with my gaze. “Down. Spread your legs.”
“If you say so, Mr. Rossi.” She smiles and lowers her back onto the desk.
I fasten the last button at the back of my neck and look at myself in the mirror. The beige material of the dress hugs my body from the high neckline to slightly below the knees, emphasizing my curves. I turn and look at myself from the side, and then from the back, focusing on my hips. The shapewear that I put on under the dress works wonders. My butt seems at least two sizes smaller. Maybe even three.
When I first got dressed for tonight, I regretted the fact I let Luca convince me to gain back the weight I’d previously lost. I kind of got carried away and instead of putting on only those ten pounds, I packed on fifteen more. It wasn’t that hard, I just stopped counting calories as rigorously as I usually do. I wish I didn’t. The most hilarious thing is that I’m still wearing the same size shirts. All that extra weight, and my breasts became only slightly fuller. Everything else ended up in the bottom part of my body—some on my thighs, but mostly my hips and ass. Just like I feared it would.
I wasn’t insecure about my body until the moment I saw myself in the mirror, wearing this dress. My eyes zeroed in on my behind, making me think of a patient whose butt implant surgery had gone terribly wrong. I almost took off the dress, initially, thinking I’d put on something less tight. But then I remembered the crazy body-shaping underwear I bought on a whim. It’s really tight and rather uncomfortable, but I don’t care. Maybe I should start wearing it every day, at least until I manage to lose a few inches around my hips.
It’s genetics. My mother has a similar pear-shaped build—narrow upper body and significant behind. Grandma was the same. But I seemed to have ended up with the most well-endowed . . . back end. Thank God Luca usually wants me to wear dresses. That allows me to hide the size my butt has reached. I doubt he’s noticed it when we’re intimate. Men don’t usually notice that kind of thing during sex.
The image of Simona comes to my mind. She’s much taller than me, but I don’t think that, even at fifteen, I would have been able to get into her current size pants. Luca keeps saying he likes my body, and I don’t think he’s lying, but still... He must have been attracted to his ex-wife if he chose to be with her. If he wasattracted to her body, how can he like mine, which is the total opposite?
Enough. Now is not the time for insecurities when there are close to fifty people arriving shortly and expecting everything to be perfect. Maybe I should check the guest list one more time, just to make sure I didn’t miss anyone I should brief Luca on. I comb my hand through my hair, which I’ve left down, check my reflection in the mirror one last time to make sure the lines of the shapewear are not visible, and leave the bathroom.
Luca is sitting in the recliner at the opposite side of the room, typing on his phone. When I enter, he lifts his head, checking me out.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever set my eyes on,” he says with a satisfied smile on his lips, then moves his gaze lower, but he stops midway. “Turn around.”
I raise my eyebrows but make a slow turn. As my eyes return to him, he isn’t smiling anymore.
“Are you on a diet again, Isabella?”
