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"That's what I like to hear." I kiss him deeply, tasting his tongue. "I'm gonna lose the clothes and lie beside you until I'm ready for you. You think you can resist touching yourself?"
"If that's what you want, yes."
I climb off him and undress, tucking myself under his arm. His fingertips reach for the swell of my breast, and I slap his hand away. "No touchingmeeither."
"That's much more difficult," he says. He kisses my neck before wrapping his hand around it, his thumb stroking my jawline. "How about I just dothis?"
"That's acceptable, but nothing more."
He squeezes just a little as I reach between my legs. My pussy is already heating up, and wetness is gathering in my folds. My fingertip finds my entrance, and I pull some of my lubrication through my pussy lips and onto my clit. The slightest movement of the tiny hood makes me shudder.
"I can't see what you're doing," Vlad whispers hotly in my ear, "but the way your hips are shifting, and your breathing catches… I'mobsessed. Let's do thisallthe time."
I enter my needy pussy with two fingers, arching my back as I do so, and his cock lurches in response. It's at full mast now, testing the stitching of his pants. A damp patch darkens the material where the head rubs against it.
"Look at you," I say. "All juicy for me." I rub my clit firmly, bending my knees and pressing the soles of my feet together. "I'll bet your cock needs attention, doesn't it?"
Vlad's grip on my neck tightens. "Ithurts. Just let me jerk off over you. You don't have to do anything to me but don't leave me like this. I might die."
He sounds wretched, and I almost feel sorry for him, but this is too much fun to let up just yet. "I know," I say. "Be a good boy and wait."
Vlad's words have an edge this time, and I love it. "Don't turnthataround on me, Morgana. You're my good girl, but I amnotyour good boy and never fucking will be." His fingertips dig into my throat. "And that's how you like it. Isn't it?"
He's right.He lets me take the lead sometimes, but he's the king.
Despite his desperation, he keeps his hands off himself and me. I chase my climax, and he holds me down, the tendons in my neck tight in his grip as he murmurs encouragement.
"Good girl. You gonna make yourself come? I love you. You're doing so well. Look how well you work your hot little cunt."
My fingers are not enough, not with my husband's thick cock there for the taking. "I need you inside me, Vladi. Fuck me, please!"
He releases my neck and rolls me onto my side, facing away from him. He supports my leg, holding it away from my body so he can slide into me, and I groan as he fills me with a single firm thrust.
"Fucking tease," he growls. "I love it, but you're exploiting my weakness." He withdraws entirely before skewering me again, and I gasp. "When I fully recover, you'll get it, Morgana."
His words seem to come from miles away, and I'm only dimly aware of them. I'm consumed by sheer sensation, my fingers working my clit as he surges relentlessly in and out of my clinging pussy. My orgasm is so intense it's almost painful, powering from my clit and sending a shockwave of rapture through my body.
Vladi is right there with me. As my wetness drenches him, he grabs my hips, holding my pussy onto his cock as he pumps his come into me. We lie in that position for a minute before he pulls free, and as I move to sit up, he puts a hand on my stomach.
"Stay there. I'm not letting you wash me away." His fingertips stroke my smooth mound, teasing my sensitive clit, and I sigh. "You lie there while I give you another. I'll spend the rest of my life devoted to pleasing you."
Epilogue
Three months later…
Vlad
The villa used to belong to my mother's grandfather. The people of the town care for it all year round, and in return, they help themselves to the lemons and lavender that grow all over the estate.
I can see why she loved it here. The sun-baked brick is homely and comforting, despite the size of the place. The pool is a perfect azure rectangle framed by neat rows of Italian cypress trees.
Morgana runs to her parents, and seeing them throw their arms around her warms my heart. Her mom looks well-rested, the dark circles under her eyes nowhere to be seen. George reaches to shake my hand.
"I love this place," he says. He glances at his wife and daughter as they chatter. "Jasmine has never felt better."
I'm ashamed that I never asked Morgana what her mom's name was. It just didn't come up. "I'm glad. Is she still getting her medication?"
He nods. "Delivered weekly by a little old man on a golf buggy. We don't understand one another, but I'm trying to learn some Italian. He brought us some bread last week too."
