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I want to feel.
It’s been so long since I’ve enjoyed the pleasure of a woman. So fucking long.
Her breaths come hard and fast, and her eyes burn into mine. Then her hand is between us, fingertips brushing over my aching shaft as she lowers my zipper and slides inside my boxer shorts. She grips me at the base, squeezing hard, and I groan like a thirteen-year-old boy about to get his first handjob. I yank her arms behind her back, easily circling my fingers around both of her wrists and pinning them in place while I free my cock.
I roughly tug her panties down with one hand. Kicking them off, she wraps her long legs around my waist and pulls me closer. The tip of my cock presses against her wet heat, and nothing exists except for me and her and this moment.
I slide in and her hot pussy squeezes my dick like a vise. “Holy. Fuck!” I grunt, burying my face in her neck. Grabbing a handful of her ass, I rail into her like an animal. My cock pulses and throbs as I drive in and out of her wet pussy. She’s dripping, coating my shaft in her sweet juices and making it possible for me to sink balls-deep into her tight-as-fuck cunt. And she feels so fucking good. Pure relief seeps into my bones, and with every thrust inside her, I get closer and closer to the edge that’s been eluding me for so long.
“Oh, god, Lorenzo.” She breathes out the words, hot against my ear. Her cunt ripples around me, pulling me deeper and deeper. I never want to stop. I want to bury myself right here and feel nothing but her and this pussy for the rest of my days.
“Your cunt, Mia…” I release her wrists so I can hold onto her hips and drive harder and deeper. “Feels so good.”
“Yes,” she moans, wrapping her arms around my neck and clinging to me. I slam into her, my balls burning with the need for release. Harder and faster with each roll of my hips, my fingers digging into her soft ass cheeks, kneading and pulling and taking. I need her so fucking much.
“So.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Good.”
She tips her head back, whimpering as I nail her. I run my nose over her sweet-smelling neck and sink my teeth into her flesh. Her pussy squeezes me harder, and I can’t hold off any longer. I’m going to come, fill her up, and I’d rather die than stop now. Gripping her ass tighter, I drive inside her one last time, making her cry out as I empty my myself into her. I close my eyes and almost black out from the force of my climax.
I fill her tight pussy until my cum drips out, overflowing from her channel. Three days’ worth of cum. Two years’ worth of anger and guilt and frustration and sadness. And she took it all.
I pull my cock out of her, and although she does her best to hide it, she flinches. I was too rough. Too hard. I didn’t even get her off. And now it’s over, the rush of endorphins already leaving my body, replaced by more guilt and anger.
Zipping up my pants, I avert my eyes, unable to look at her.
“Lorenzo?”
“I’m sorry, Mia.” There’s nothing else I can say. I still don’t look at her as I walk away, leaving her alone in the library.
ChapterSixteen
LORENZO
Ifind Dante in our study, reading over a stack of contracts Joey gave him earlier. Glancing up, he gives me a concerned look and sits up straighter in his chair. “You okay?”
Do I look as angry and distraught as I feel? I sink into the chair across from him and scrub a hand over my face. “I cheated on her, D.”
He blinks at me, confused. I should have known he wouldn’t understand. “On who, Loz?”
“Anya,” I snap, barely able to keep the anger surging through me under control.
He leans forward, folding his arms on the desk. “You didn’t cheat—”
“I fucked a woman who isn’t my wife.” Jaw aching with all the tension I’m holding inside, I slam my fist down on the arm of my chair.
“Okay,” he says in that calm, soothing tone he’s so good at, but it’s not working today. He leans back, eyeing me warily. Like I’m completely insane. Maybe I am.
“I fucked someone else, D.” I hang my head, dropping it into my hands. All I hear is the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears. How the fuck did I let this happen? Making decisions with my dick, that’s how. I’m a better man that that. Anya deserves better than that.
He finally responds. “It’s been two years, Loz.”
I lift my head, and he’s still staring at me with worry etched on his face. “It could be two hundred years, it wouldn’t matter. Anya is my wife.”
“But she died…”
“You think I don’t fucking know that?” I spit the words, directing my rage at him because I have nowhere else to put it. “You think I don’t remember every single second of every single fucking day that she’s dead?”
He winces. “I know.”
