AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He thrums as I shove my gloved finger up the length of his underside.
I stretch a finger down behind, until it slips to nuzzle in between his cheeks. His balls heat up and swell in my cupped palm as he throbs and moans. When I bend my head over to take in the scent and to blow on his slick crown, I’m ready, waiting for the shock as the palm of his hand lands on the back of my head.
He presses, but I press back. I let him hear a vibration of a laugh as my head gently shakes. This time, my timing.
My finger runs up his seam, pressing and releasing. Teasing. He reddens and stiffens. I follow my finger with a cool blow through my tightly pursed lips. Then the tip of my finger runs from his sac to the cleave in his tip. I let out pants of warm breath. My mouth is over him. I breathe him in.
Only my breath makes contact. Only air and the tip of my finger, while I squeeze him below in a firm, forceful rhythm with the grip of my other hand. His mast shudders.
When I breathe in the salty tang of precum, I know we’re off to the races. I’m buzzing close myself, but I won’t get over the edge. Not without more friction.
My hand circles around him and I squeeze, pulling up, with a rhythm that drags as it mounts.
“Yes!” I let out a squeal of delight, and he starts to pump. I’m not prepared for the fountain that explodes out of him in his eruption. But I do get a gulp to taste.
“You caught it all up? Good girl.”
Well, one way or another I did. It’s funny to see him in such a panic about it, though. If he doesn’t know how to deal with a stain, he should keep his cock under wraps. Men can be such babies.
He grips my hair and looks hard in my eyes. He’s still breathing hard.
I look back at him with one eyebrow raised high. He slaps my ass. I laugh. He slaps me again. Hard this time. My blood pumps hard.
His voice rasps, “You’ve been bad, haven’t you.”
I nod.
“Say it.”
“I’ve been bad.” And I really have. “I’ve been very, very bad.” I can’t tell him what I did at Gianni Crespi’s house. But I can take the punishment.
And when he asks me, “What did you do?”
I just tell him, “I let you do what you wanted with me.”
He slaps my ass again. And again.
“Of course, you must absolutely not tell anyone about this.” When he slaps me this time, he’s definitely not kidding. A part of me that I’ve always known, but I keep hidden because I know it’s so wrong, wants more. I cannot let him see that side of me. “Nobody at all,” he says, with another slap. The sting is so delicious. He hits exactly the same spot each time. “Not about any of it.”
I keep one eyebrow arched high and I do everything I can to keep from showing any other reaction. The look he’s giving me is so intense, I have no way to tell if he’s seen through me or not.
He starts to pull the mess of his pants back together. There’s a sizable and obvious stain on the front. He doesn’t look concerned.
Then I remember the cleaner’s suit bag.
“Especially not Carlo. Well, especially both of them, I guess. And Dad, too, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
I churn inside at the way he arrogantly assumes he is the boss of me. It makes me sigh and groan inside, and laugh, all at the same time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
One look inside the ballroom and I know immediately that I am in no way overdressed. Not even slightly. If anything, I could have spent the afternoon with a stylist and a hairdresser. Every other woman here has glammed and glitzed themselves up to blingdom come.
As soon as I spot Adrianna Bagniola I recognize her, although I still can’t remember a thing about her. Etiquette at these things would be not to out-dress the guest of honor, the fianceé, in this case. She has certainly risen to the challenge. Her impressive curves are displayed to maximum dazzle in a long, sparkly, but practically invisible dress, and she’s perched high on patent turquoise Roger Vivier heels.
Silver streamers flutter and flow up the tall gold Grecian columns that hold the high plastered ceiling of the Palladian Ballroom. The room seethes and jostles with men in tuxes and tailored evening suits, and women perched on high heels, draped and sheathed in dresses that could easily sweep up the red carpet to a big movie premiere.
