“I didn’t touch her.” His words are a whisper. I almost think I imagined them, but I didn’t. I heard that. His mouth closes around one of my breasts.
I squeeze my eyes shut.I don’t like this. I don’t like this… I… Oh shit…
My back arches. My core tingles with appreciation of what his tongue is doing to my nipple. He cups my other breast in his hand, his fingers pinching and twisting, and I swear I almost come on the spot.
“Carlo, please.” I don’t know if I’m asking him to stop or if I’m begging him for more. His mouth moves to the other breast, and then he starts his assault all over again. “I don’t…”
Maybe I can imagine it’s someone else. I can picture Superman or something. This isn’t Carlo, the cheating scumbag, who’s touching me. This is Superman. He’s just saved me from an untimely death and is now showing me that I’m still alive.
His mouth moves up my chest, along the side of my neck. His hand wraps around my throat. “Open your eyes, Antonia. You’re not escaping this. You are not fighting us,” he says.
I shake my head.
“That’s how you want to play it, fine, but you chose this,” he tells me.
I feel his weight shift south, his hands reach under my skirt, and then my panties are sliding down my legs. Superman is removing my panties. I keep picturing the red cape. It’s an odd fantasy, but it’s mine.
My legs are spread open and then I feel it, his tongue on my most sensitive part. “Holy shit.”
Superman, Superman, Superman.I repeat the name in my head. Superman is going down on me. It’s not the artful work of Carlo Bianchi. Nope, I remember how skilled he was at this, but this isn’t him.
“Fuck, you taste so damn good. I’ve missed this,” he says. I keep my eyes closed, but I can’t shut out his voice.
His breath whispers over my clit, his fingers spread the lips of my pussy wide open, and then his tongue runs up the length of me.Shit.My entire body shudders. And something switches inside me. I don’t know if it’s my mind playing tricks on me or if I’m trying to justify why I’m allowing him to touch me. But right now, I don’t care. I deserve this.
If I have to be tied to this man for the rest of my life, the least he can do is give me orgasms, right? I don’t have to like him to allow him to pleasure me. I just have to lie here, think about Superman, and let the orgasms wash over me.
I can feel it. I’m so close. It’s there. I can almost reach out and touch it. And then…
He stops. He doesn’t say anything, just stops. His fingers are still holding me open.What the hell?
My head lifts and I glare down at him. “What the hell, Carlo?” I ask aloud. “Why would you stop?”
“Keep your eyes open, Antonia. I want you to watch. You can call out Superman all you like, but even he couldn’t keep me from you.” Carlo smirks. “If you close those eyes, I stop,” he says before his tongue is back on me.
He keeps his glare locked on my face.Holy shit, did I say Superman out loud?I don’t think I did. My head lulls back, hitting the mattress when pleasure radiates through my body again. And then he stopsagain. I look back up.
“Eyes on me,” he says.
“Argh, either finish what you started or leave me alone so I can finish myself!” I yell at him.
“Thought you’d never ask.” The asshole grins before he dives in. And this time, he doesn’t hold back. He keeps licking me until I’m falling apart. An orgasm tears through me, my entire body tingling with pleasure. “So fucking good,” he says, coming back up for air.
His lips slam down on mine. I don’t fight him, because… I don’t actually know why. But I let myself have this moment. This kiss. Carlo knows how to kiss. It’s intoxicating, almost like a drug. A high I’ve never found elsewhere.
Before I know it, my hands are undoing his pants. I need more. I want more. I don’t care how shitty I’m going to feel afterwards. I want the pleasure he can give me now. I’ll deal with the self-hate later.
I push at his chest and roll us over, undoing his zipper as I release his cock. Wrapping my hand around it. He’s hard, the tip leaking precum. He always did get off on my pleasure. It’sone of the things I loved about him. He was never selfish in the bedroom. My pleasure was always more important to him than his own.
Well, until it wasn’t, I guess.
Pushing that thought to the background of my mind, I line myself up and sink down onto him. His cock stretches me out. There’s a slight sting but, damn, it feels so good. My head dips and my hands land on his chest as I start to rise and fall on top of him.
“Oh god!” I moan as I continue to use him to pleasure myself.
Carlo’s grip tightens on my hips. He moves upwards to meet my rhythm. “Fuck me,” he groans.
“I am.” I laugh and continue to use him. That’s what I’m doing. Using him to make myself feel better. It has nothing to do with him.
