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I squeeze her ass cheeks before opening her and staring almost adoringly at the promise of absolute pleasure there. The swollen and not at all dilated entrance to the pussy soaking the pink ass. The sight is a fucking delight and I lean in, kissingGabriella's lower back as I let one of my thumbs lightly stroke her asshole drooling with cum and excitement.
Gabriella doesn't even threaten to tense up, completely at the mercy of my will in the most primal way possible. She'll be the death of me, and I'll go to hell feeling like her god if it means every damn wish I've had on that girl's body will have been fulfilled.
Gabriella moans loudly when I lower my finger to the entrance to her pussy, circling her canal and then penetrating her shallowly. Her inner muscles suck my finger, trying to kidnap it at all costs and this makes her moans become louder and louder, her skin becomes sweatier and sweatier, and her desperation becomes, scream after scream, more evident with each passing second.
I place my chest against her damp back, the slide is immediate as our sweat mixes. My free hand sneaks between the wall and her body, searching until I find the luscious paradise between Gabriella's legs. I stick my finger into her canal a little deeper at the same time I rub the thumb of my other hand on her clit, swollen and sensitive from the previous orgasm. Gabriella thrusts her body against mine, moaning and rubbing herself against me.
I lick her skin, increasing the speed and depth reached by my finger with each thrust, chasing another dose of my new addiction. Gabriella's body spasms, fueling my complete lack of control. She turns her face, looking at me in profile, and my tongue licks her neck, then the curve of her jaw.
Gabriella can barely keep her eyes open for more than ten seconds before she closes them for a long time and lets out a scream that pierces my skin and settles directly on my cock, pulsing impossibly painfully in my pants, straining to destroythe fabric and conquer the same glory that is being given to my fingers: sinking into Gabriella's pussy as each of her limbs is rocked by a searing, violent orgasm.
CHAPTER 42
________
Gabriella Matos
Tears trickle down the corners of my eyes as I struggle to breathe. A completely unfamiliar feeling consumes me from the inside out and leaves me feeling limp, exhausted, like I've just run a marathon after days of being sleep deprived.
Vittorio licks the tear that slides down my cheek, his body pressed against mine, and his hands still tucked between my legs are the only things stopping me from sliding down the wall.
I can't think, I can't move, I can't do anything but feel overwhelmed by the sensations fired by Vittorio's every breath across my face.
His hands leave the heat between my thighs, Vittorio wraps my hair around his fist once again and pulls my head back. It hurts deliciously, in a way I didn't know I could like. His mouth demands mine in a punishing kiss in which I have no alternative but to lose myself.
His smell, the heat of his skin, the tone of his voice, his sweat wetting my body, his domination, everything is too much and unquestionable. The surrender of my members is the only possible path to be taken. They react to Vittorio's will exactly as they have since the first time they were placed before it: eager to obey it.
Teeth drag across my lips, down my chin and lips suck at my throat. The position strains my neck to the limit, keeping me restricted, uncomfortable, and impossibly aroused, as if the pleasure hadn't just ripped me into a million shimmering pieces.
My body is turned once more and, manipulating me as if I were a rag doll, Vittorio lowers his mouth onto mine, resuming the demanding kiss that accepts nothing less than everything from me, exactly as he said he would.
His hands slide down my legs, lift them and cross them, one at a time around his waist, until I'm on his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck and don't open my eyes even when I feel him start to move us, too lost in his taste, in his mouth, to want anything else.
I let one of my hands run over his shoulders, down his back, feeling where the ink stains the skin and the places marked by scars. Everything I imagined about Vittorio doesn't compare to reality and it doesn't take long until I'm devouring every one of his muscles with my fingertips.
He sits my naked body on his bed, and I blink as I open them and find myself almost in the middle of it. The man is standing in front of me and not even my curiosity to discover his space is able to make me look away. The tattoos covering his torso are like a custom-made spell to hold my eyes captive.
All the violence I always knew was contained within Vittorio seems to bleed from his skin in black ink and spikes. The suit that disguises him as a businessman looks even more like an allegory now that I know what's really underneath it. I stretch my fingers, touching the black lines covering the entire right side of his chest up to his collarbone and shoulder.
On the left side of his chest, over his heart, there is a burn mark that makes my eyes widen because it is in the perfect shapeof a crucifix. I don't need to ask what it is; I know. I simply know that it is the mark of the Sagrada.
The beast. The name appears in my mind under a cloud of dark smoke. If I were to draw Vittorio one day, it would be my first drawing with a name, because it would simply be impossible to do otherwise. The Don reaches for my hand and leaves a soft kiss on my palm, the delicacy of the gesture is the complete opposite of what my naked image, in front of his still clothed one, displays.
And this is just one of the contradictions that makes the space between my legs throb like crazy. When Vittorio takes two steps away, the whimper that escapes between my lips is not something I have control over. He smiles widely at my reaction and hooks his fingers in the waistband of his own pants. I follow the movement, almost in slow motion, of the fabric descending until his hard member is revealed.
My eyes widen at the size, and my mouth waters. The large head is glistening, and I would give anything to know what it tastes like, at the same time, I can't stop wondering if it will all fit inside me.
I've already used up my entire small initiative repertoire, so I just keep looking at him, waiting for Vittorio to tell me what to do. He approaches, looming over me until he has his knees on the bed, trapping my body between his thighs. Then he reaches out his hand, touching my cheek.
“That look of yours, Gabriella...” he begins, but doesn't finish the thought.
His next movement is as unexpected as the scream that tears through my throat when I feel his tongue take hold of my pussy as if it were the inexhaustible source of the only thing in this world capable of satisfying his hunger.
“Vittorio!” His name is a disturbed plea escaping my lips because I had no idea that a feeling like that was possible. I can't even get over the image of his back completely covered in black paint.
Each touch of his tongue drains my body of a little more of the consciousness I had left, and I finally truly understand what he means by ‘destroy me and watch me enjoy it.’ Because, good God, I like it! I love it!
I have no reaction other than screaming and lifting my hips, rubbing myself, sometimes on the bed, sometimes in Vittorio's face, having no idea how to make the sensation liquefying my organs stop. Vittorio doesn't start slow or gentle, his lips infiltrate my folds like an army determined to devastate the enemy camp, and his tongue is its commander. Turning over every tiny bit of space and dominating me completely, making it impossible to do anything other than feel it and beg for more.
