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I am anxious for more, practically standing on my tiptoes as I search for my high. I dig my fingernails into the fabric of my dress and, by extension, his shoulder, hopeful that he’ll feel my need beneath the layers. My thighs feel like wet, slippery jello. I’m soaked from his ministrations and the arousal mixes with my sweat from excitement. I have to fan myself with my bandaged hand to take the edge off.
The crescendo of the song playing matches mine. As the woman reaches the highest note of the song, I am tossing my head back into the wall and trying to muffle my screams with my fist. Outside of the door and just down the hall are all the other guests that Bella’s will serve tonight. I don’t want them to hear me and I force my screams down between shuttered lips so they can’t escape.
Alessandro keeps licking. His fingers keep moving. Sweat drips from my brow and I cling to my sensibilities to keep from drifting away.
Minutes pass, maybe hours. There is no clock and my phone is in the car. I count the passage of time by orgasms. One, two, three, all in rapid succession. Alessandro never tires, never pulls his head out from beneath my dress. His fingers move at a steady pace, only stopping long enough to switch hands. I swear he’s spent time working out his tongue because there’s no way he laps at my core that continuously without practice.
I am filthy from my arousal. My body prickles with sweat that has fallen between my breasts and off my upper lip. Every orgasm that he gives me renews the moisture until the dress I’m wearing feels like a prison.
Only then does Alessandro emerge. His eyes are shot through with lust as he leans back on his heels. His sleeves are rolled up and the first two buttons of his shirt are undone, a difference from when he went under. He brings the back of his hand up to his lips and wipes away the remnants of my pleasure. With it comes a smile. “I could do that all night,” he says wistfully, “you taste like candy.”
My cheeks flush as I try to smooth out the front of my dress. Ricardo used to tell me that I was rank and disgusting, that putting his lips on mine would only ever happen if he was dead. “T-thanks?” I’m unsure how to respond. Is there a protocol for this sort of thing?
Alessandro gets to his feet, towering above me. He brings his palm to my cheek and strokes his thumb across the expanse. “This could be our ritual, Willow. Every night before we go to bed, I lay between your legs and lick you until the blanket is soaked with your pleasure.”
A shudder races down my spine. It’s a good thing I’ve had a moment to catch my breath and get my head on straight. If I hadn’t, I might have eagerly told him yes. I might have handed him the Parodi family on a silver platter, putting my pleasure above the needs of the men I lead. “We should have dinner,” I announce, careful not to lean into his touch. The kinder he is to me, the harder it will be to walk out of this room later.
“No,” Alessandro says with a deepening look of lust in his eyes, “I haven’t even had you yet. Tasting you was just an appetizer, Willow, and the only thing I’m hungry for is more of you.”
My stomach feels tied up in knots. “Alessandro,” his name leaves my mouth softly, fraught with uncertainty.
“I want all of you, Willow. I want to be inside of you, to give you the same pleasure that you give me.”
I’ve done nothing. I haven’t touched him or stroked his cock. I haven’t placed him in my mouth and serviced him. I only leaned up against the door as he licked and sucked my pussy until I was in blinding pleasure. “I don’t know if this is the place for that,” I announce with an edge.
Alessandro leaves my side and walks over to the table. With a swipe of his hand, he discards napkins and silverware onto the floor. He pushes the candle to the other side of the sturdy hardwood and pats the top. “Right here,” he decides.
For one fearful moment, I’m afraid he’s going to have me bend over the table as he takes me from behind. I have flashbacks of Ricardo swearing that he couldn’t look at me when he was inside of me. My heart throbs painfully in my chest until Alessandro pats the table again and ushers me forward.
“Sit on the edge,” he insists. “I want to look in your eyes when I’m making love to you.”
The pain in my chest subsides almost as quickly as it bloomed. “Wh-what?” I take a step forward subconsciously. “You want me to do what?”
Ricardo reaches out to grab my hand, pulling me toward him quickly. He holds me in his grasp and I feel the press of the dining table against my bottom. “I want to take you home and slowly undress you. I want to lay you down in my King size bed and make love to you all night long. In lieu of that, I want you sitting on the edge of the table so that I can look into your eyes. I want to see the pleasure on your face as I sink into you. I want to watch your pretty eyes roll back into your head when I bring you to orgasm.”
The wetness between my thighs renews. This is what it’s like to want to have sex with someone. It’s a strange feeling, but one that I hope I become accustomed to. I would hate to be introduced to consensual, loving sex only to have it ripped out from under my feet.
8
ALESSANDRO
It’s illogical to fuck Willow on a dining table that I’ve used for business, but I’m willing to test its strengths. Without the leaves, it’s substantially lighter, but the craftsmanship keeps it steady. I position Willow on the edge and she sits there uncomfortably as I unbutton my pants in front of her.
I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to take her back to my home. It would easier to do this on a bed or even in a shower. Anywhere I could be sure that her hair wouldn’t catch on fire or that I wouldn’t accidentally thrust hard enough to break this table brought from the old country. But I have to make do with what I’ve got.
My cock has been hard since I fell to my knees in front of her. Every orgasm I brought her to caused it to grow painfully in my pants. The tent that it created could house a small family. Now as I drop my pants and my boxers with them, I unsheathe my length for Willow’s gaze.
She watches with a strange curiosity. A tilt of her head, a single raised eyebrow, her lips pursed together. She hesitates for a second before looking up at me. “Can I touch it?”
I want her to do more than that, but I nod my head yes. When she places her soft, dainty hand on my erect member, I close my eyes and breathe out a sigh of relief. Her grip is pillowy soft as she traces the outline of the vein across the side of my penis. “Do you like it?” I ask, struggling to get the words out in a coherent fashion.
Willow reaches forward with her bandaged hand. It doesn’t feel quite as nice as her skin on mine, but she uses both of her hands to hold me. Her thumbs stroke my length and her brow knits together in concentration. “I’ve never known what it felt like. Well,” Willow frowns, “I guess I did. I touched him before, but never like this.”
It angers me to hear her talk about Ricardo, but he was part of her life. I’ve never known the exact details of all that he did to her, but I can only assume from what my men heard while employed in Ricardo’s service. “You can touch me however you’d like. Or not touch me, if that is your preference.” I reach out to gently encase her elbow with a squeeze of reassurance. “This will never be like what you experienced with him. I promise.”
We’re shrouded by silence for a few minutes more as she continues her exploration of my body. Her fingers brush against my pubic hair causing a small smile to appear on her lips. When she reaches a little lower to cup my balls, her touch is light as a feather and I grit my teeth to restrain myself from asking her to do more.
But after her examination is done, she releases me and starts to pull up the fringes of her dress. On and on the fabric goes as she draws it from her ankles to her waist. When Willow exposes herself, she looks up at me with a frisson of fear. “Like this?” She asks, her voice meek.
