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Ever since he took me out of that rave, he hasn’t given my heart any rest. Constantly making skip beats, travel to my stomach, or try to escape through my mouth.
He moves his head closer to me again, so his forehead is resting on mine. As he dips his head to kiss me, I lift mine slightly, wanting to meet him halfway. His lips cover mine before I get a chance to talk myself out of this pull that's threatening to gobble me up. His kiss is slow, and firm but not demanding or intrusive. His hands come to my face and he cups it, holding my head in place. He kisses me like I have wanted to be kissed all my life.
My stomach heats up and a torrent of heatwaves whoosh through my body to my sex. I hook my hands on his shoulderblades and melt into the kiss, opening up for his tongue to invade me.
The doorbell chimes, breaking the spell. But Benedetto doesn't pull away instantly, instead, he slows down and sucks on my lips one last time before pulling away. He smiles at me, brushing my cheeks with his thumbs, then goes to get the door.
I walk back feathery to the loveseat as Benedetto finishes up with the room service and drags a cart of food inside, then closes the door. The last thing I want to do right now is eat, but I am famished and I am grateful that he ordered room service while I was in the bathroom.
He drives the cart in front of the loveseat and sets the dinner of seafood, vegetables, a bottle of wine and wine glasses, on the table. Then, he moves the cart away and takes his seat.
“Shall we?” he points at the food.
“I'm not exactly in the mood for food,” I pout, knowing what my body has been tuned for, and feeling the shame that comes with that revelation. The shame is mixing with the fear that is left over from the secret he let me in on, and the fact that he’s still him. Benedetto, the despicable one. When I meet his gaze, the fire I see burning in his eyes makes me wonder if he can read my mind.
“I will fuck you, Rosaline, there's not a place or time that I wouldn't want to fuck you,” he says as he forks the food on his plate. “But you will eat when you need to, and you need tonow,”he lifts the fork of food, “Eat,” he brings it to my mouth and my resilience to disobey melts under his command.
I open my mouth and let him feed me. The savory and buttery taste of the scallops erases the idea of not wanting to eat. I hold back my grumbling as he takes keenness to feed me fork by fork.
He lifts a plate. “Come sit on me,” he stands and walks to the sex seat, then sits, and leans back.
Even though I know what he is implying, I don't fight it. The kiss was when I lost it. I stand and go to him, then throw my legs on both sides of his hips as I sit on him, facing him, but keeping my eyes down to where our bodies join. My white and black fabric and his navy-blue dress pants meet in a cacophony of patterns and colors.
He continues to spoon-feed me and I keep taking each scoop in, feeling something strike the arousal chord in my stomach. Maybe it's being fed by him. How he is taking care of me. Or maybe it's my mind playing tricks on me. If this is a trick, my body is far too gone for redemption.
He pulls the table by the side of the sex seat and drops the plate on it, then his one hand comes to rest on my waist while the other continues feeding me. His hand around my waist begins to move me, or am I the one moving?
“Rosaline,” he slurs, “You are perfection,” he drops the fork and it clunks on the plate, “My perfect slut,” his laser eyes burn moredesire into me, and they then move to my sex. “I want you to fuck me.”
I have never heard anything sexier nor felt anything as searing as the heat burning between my legs.
This is Benedetto. I don't know the lines not to cross with him, and for some uncharacterized reason, this makes me more heated. Not knowing what I can do to trigger him and make him switch keeps my toes curling.
His hand on my waist becomes firmer as each move turns into grinding and I begin to feel his crotch against my pussy. I dive into action, doing as he had told me to. I find the hook of his trousers and undo it, wanting to take full advantage of this now that he is calm, before I disobey and get the side of him I want to kill.
I slide my hands into his trousers and fish out his cock. My pussy twitches from how full he feels in my hands. His eyes droop to my hand and he bites his lower lips. I'm beginning to pick up on the fact that he does that to keep himself under control. I want him under control, but I also want him out of control. I want… Damn it, I begin to stroke him with both hands and he throws his head backward, making a throaty sound. I watch his throat flex as he swallows when I take my thumb to his gland and smear the glistening precum around it.
“Rosaline…” he groans, then sits up immediately, and I wet my lips with my tongue, “On your knees,” he slaps my butt and I stand, afraid but tingling.
I go on my knees on the sex seat in between his legs and it is as his hand grabs a fistful of my hair that I understand what he is up to. He doesn't wait for me to collect myself, he brings my head down and uses his other hand to pistol his cock between my lips. He yanks my hair when I keep my mouth pressed close, and the pain goes scorching as arousal in my pussy, milking more wetness to it.
I open my mouth and he shoves his cock in it, losing the ceremony, and taking control, he begins to fuck my mouth. Every hit at the back of my hollowed throat brings heat to my pussy and pushes me towards the same end goal as him.
“Your mouth feels fucking good,” he groans and I moan on his cock. “Perfect slut,” he turns his thrust to wild punches, and as I feel him about to come from my hands now grabbing his thighs, he pulls out.
He lifts me quickly, and as he positions me back on his lap, one hand moves to adjust my thong to a corner and angles his cock in the opening of my sex. He plunges at the same time he drags me to sit down, slipping inside of me with one forceful sweep that makes me both wince and groan.
“Now, fuck me,” he grabs my butt cheeks, already moving inside of me, “Make me come in your sweet wet pussy.”
I throw myself backward, resting my hands behind me, I meet him where he wants me. He drives me mad, and I show him how mad with how wildly I move my waist, fucking him.
“Benedetto…” I howl, going so fast I fear my heart won't keep up.
“That's it, Rosaline,” he takes a hand under my dress to find my breast and he grabs it, digging his fingers painfully into my skin.
He makes me furious, and I unleash it. I want to kill him for how he upended my life, and my grind with the gritting of my teeth shows that much.
“God, I hate you,” I moan as I feel the pit of heat in my stomach connect to every part of my body to gather more heat to make a wildfire.
