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As he reams me open, he looks in my face and asks if it’s okay.
“Damn yes,” I tell him, gasping. I feel like letting him know that he doesn’t need to be so nice. But then, either he was holding back, or maybe he just gets that. After he takes his time, driving in gradually longer and deeper and harder, there’s no mistaking his intention.
The man goes off like a drag racer. The determined rage behind the beads of sweat on his face show a man who’s racing for a personal best, and I’m the lucky race track.
His dedication to grinding, wrenching, slamming and pummeling a record power, length, peak and sheer number of hyper-intense orgasms out of me borders on a religious fervor. I am personally grateful.
He pulls off the dress and removes the rest of my clothes, leaving only the scarf. He kisses and caresses my skin as he does.
Then he flips me over, spreads my legs and impales me, flat on my face. He drives me until I’m bursting inside, gushing and weeping top and bottom.
When the convulsions subside, he hauls me up on all fours and rams me from behind like a bull. He slaps my ass and pulls my hair, and he makes me come, over and over. I’m lost somewhere between semiconsciousness and delirium as we roll.
He bounces me on top of him, first facing him so I can watch his face and he can look in my eyes. Sighing, he grabs and squeezes my breasts as he plows into me.
At some point he has me up, bends me weak-kneed over a table with one leg up on a stool. I sag as he fills me, slamming his rod deep.
I’m slick and wet all over when he lifts me, holding me up by my ass, and bounces me on his cock, fucks me over and over while he stands with his knees bent.
He makes me squeal and squirt all over him. When I’ve drenched his thighs and his groin, he plunges his face into my pussy for more.
I’m jabbering and moaning and I must be squirting for the third time or even the fourth when the Mastermind steps down into the cabin.
Anxiously, I search is eyes, but all I can see is excitement and mild amusement.
Now I know what Alessio is doing and I can’t help laughing. Partly at myself for not seeing it before.
I drape my wet, bedraggled body over him and cover him with kisses. “You must be about the most adorable murderous crime-boss ever.”
I hug him tight. “You wanted to wear me out before either of the others came down to join in.”
“Come on,” he looks hurt, “Who’s been telling you horrible lies like that about me?”
The Mastermind’s laugh is loud and infectious.
I reach out as he struts toward us.
As our eyes connect, I feel the heat of his ruthless hunger.
I look back at Alessio.
He has a look in his eye like a schoolboy who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Then I turn back to the Mastermind. His head shakes, but mostly with amusement.
It all feels natural. I’ve wanted this. It’s been stalking my dreams, but I’ve been afraid of how it would be, how I could introduce the idea of us being together, sharing, but now it feels as though we’ve been building up to it perfectly naturally.
Like it’s not only my sick fantasy.
Maybe it’s all of their sick fantasies, too.
He comes into my arms and his kiss is a fire of wet filth and lust. His head shakes and his chest rocks as he chuckles, pulling my dripping body to him.
My breasts bounce, soft and heavy, and darken his immaculate suit with sweat and juices as I squeeze against him. He hefts and kneads them, takes handfuls of them and presses himself against them as he pulls us close together.
I feel like a Roman concubine or a Medici whore as I slip my hand around the weight of his cock and in a growl I tell him, “Get your clothes off.”
“Sure. First, I’m just going to let the boy playing captain know that we’re cutting the cake and he’d better get his ass down here.”
He stretches his arm as he pulls away so that our hands slide down each others arms, all the way to the tips of our fingers before we let go. A laugh bubbles between us as they drop.
