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I turn her around, pushing her body over the oak desk. I lift the dress’s skirt once again and spread her legs. My hand separates her ass cheeks before I ram my cock into her.
“Oh, my fucking God!” Isabella cries.
Her head lifts, her hands grasp the other side of the desk as I start to pump her pussy from behind. I know I’m not going to last long. I reach around and begin to give her clit attention.
“Oh… ohh,” She moans, dropping her cheek onto the desk.
Each thrust into her, I watch her bounce face down on the desk. “Fuck, so good, so good. Don’t stop.” Isabella calls out.
“Fuck, baby, you feel so good. I couldn’t stop if I wanted to,” I growl.
I’m right on the edge. My movement picks up speed. I remove my finger from her clit. Both hands grip her bum cheeks to pull them apart. As I pound into her, I allow my thumb to tease her puckered butt hole.
“Oh, God, oh God,” Isabella pants. I notice her grip on the other side of the desk. Her body is tensing. She screams, “Andrey, fuck, oh fuckkkkkkkk.”
Her pussy walls clamp around my cock. I carry on slamming into her. I feel her pulsing orgasm start to milk me, and then I’m sliding over the edge. “Agggghhhhhhhhhh,” I grunt and keep pounding until I empty all my seed inside her.
I fall forward over her, careful to lean on my elbows. I’m kissing her back while I slow my movements. Her pussy hugs my cock while we come down from the orgasmic high. We lay panting and spent. I give her shoulder a few more kisses before I pull out of her and push myself off Isabella.
She lies there beautifully displayed with her dress around her waist. Legs wide open and fuck me if I don’t want to drop between them and drink her juices. I start to pull up my pants and right my clothes. Isabella turns, sits up, and slips off the desk, smoothing down her skirt before fixing her bra and pulling up her dress.
Her cheeks are pink, and she won’t meet my eyes. Instead, she scans the floor and finds her ripped panties. She finds them and dips down to pick them up, but I bend and grab them. I slip them into my pocket.
She stands and lifts her eyes to mine. Her lips are swollen from my kisses, but her mask is back in place, and her eyes are once again shuttered. We stare at each other for a few seconds, and I sigh. She is so fucking stubborn.
“I don’t have any other panties,” Isabella points out in her flat voice.
“No one will know,” I tell her. “You’ll go without them for the rest of the day.”
“I’ll get another pair when we get to my home,“ Isabella states, deliberately emphasizing the last words, letting me know her declaration earlier at the altar still stood.
“Are you really going to do this the hard way, princess?” I ask.
Isabella nods. She steps around me and then moves toward the small mirror next to the bathroom to fix her hair. “We need to go,” is all she says, smoothing her skirt once more.
“Before we do,” I say, turning to unlock the door and pull it open for her to walk-through. “I’d like to give you your birthday present.”
“What?” Isabella stops dead and looks at me as if she’d forgotten it was her birthday. “Oh!” She swallows. “I wasn’t expecting anything.”
“It’s your birthday. A milestone one,” I say, indicating that she follows me. I walk through the kitchen, into the utility room, and to the door that leads into the multi-car garage.”
“What is it?” Isabella asks me, weary of my intentions. “A cell in your garage?”
I sigh again and shake my head. “Close your eyes, Isabella.”
“Why?” Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “So I can’t see when you shove me into it and lock me in there?”
“You’re being very dramatic,” I tell her calmly. “And we don’t have cells in the garage. Those are in the dungeon.”
She stiffens, and her eyes widen in shock. “You have a dungeon?” she splutters, and I nod. There is no use lying about it, and she’ll probably find out anyway. “That’s barbaric.”
“Your father has a dungeon, too, princess,” I point out. “Is he barbaric?”
“My father has a wine cellar,“ Isabella says. “I don’t think the wine minds being kept in its ideal environment.”
“Ah!” I nod. “Is that what your father calls it?” I know I’m now tormenting her. “Whatever helps him sleep at night.”
I’m pegged with an icy glare, which is better than blank indifference. But I’m getting tired of the little princess looking down her nose at me in disgust just because her father’s shielded her from who she really is. But tonight, I plan on making Marco Moretti tell his daughter the truth—about everything! I can see why Isabella was trying to run away three nights ago when I met her.
