Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I wasn’t prepared that first night. In fact, I was still at the office when she sprawled across the bed, fully open to me, and touched her sweet little body. My gaze hooded as she dipped her fingers into the pretty pink pussy and rubbed her swollen nub. My fingers curled around my phone with such intensity I thought I might snap it in two. In awe, I watched, unblinking, taking in every minute detail. And then she breathed out my name and, fuck me, my cock drooled. She held me captive. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to lock the door when I awkwardly struggled with my belt, tugged at my zipper then dug into my pants, pulling out my dick. I don’t remember ever being that hard. I tried to take my time, running my hand up and down my throbbing, angry length, but ended up losing the battle.
I came. Twice.
She was unbelievable and as I sat there, mindlessly numb from ecstasy, with cum coating my knuckles, with it splattered across my shirt, I knew what she was doing by taunting me. It was hard to resist Vittoria, especially when she looked the way she did then, but I endured.
Slowly, day-by-day, she was wearing me down. I didn’t know how much more I could take.
By eleven thirty-four, Vittoria exited the bathroom wearing a pair of white lace panties and thin-strapped matching bralette. She approached the bed and climbed on, crawling slowly on all fours, giving me a solid view of her rounded ass. She laid down with a quiet sigh and I watched closely as she put her hands to her bare stomach. When she dipped one set of fingers under the elastic waistband, she asked, “Are you there, baby?”
This was absurd.
My wife had me locked in a chokehold. I was consumed by her, night and day, and just when I thought I was safe from her as I slumbered, she infiltrated my dreams.
“Where else would I be, topolina?” came my rough reply, my hand already under the sheet, wrapped around my throbbing cock. I ran my thumb across the bead of precum rubbing it across the head of my dick.
Neither of us lasted long, but when we came, we came together. And I liked that.
I really fucking liked that.
Chapter 15
High end champagne
Vittoria
Of all the days I’d been held up in Northport, today had to be the best, by far. As I walked into the kitchen with an idiotic smile etched into my cheeks, I placed the box down onto the counter and wondered how the hell we had gone from then to now in such a short time.
It all started the evening before, and after ten sensual nights of exploring my body, I could safely say that I had discovered things about myself that surprised even me. One of the things I learned was that my nipples were unusually sensitive and it was possible to come from playing with them alone. My lips often throbbed when I thought about my husband’s hungry kisses. And I only ever pictured one thing when I was ready to touch heaven. The look on Ettore’s face when he came was always what sent me over the edge. Also, it was pretty apparent by now that I was indeed a closet exhibitionist.
Who would have known?
There was something extraordinarily daring about the role that was also oddly safe. My whole life, I only had one deep-seated fear. Rejection. And, here, in my bedroom, there was no chance of that. Whether I was being watched or not was still very much in question, but even if Ettore wasn’t viewing me, I still performed for him. Enthusiastically, at that.
But last night surpassed all others. When my performance ended and I lay wide-eye, panting and astonished by how quickly I managed to go from start to finish, I uttered a surprised, “Wow. That was…” My brain felt like mush. “Unexpected. Surprising, but a good surprise. That was a top-tier orgasm. Best so far. Like high end champagne.” Lightheaded, I puffed out, “Whoa.” And when I stood, making my way to the bathroom to clean up, I washed my hands and taunted my husband with a playful, “If I were you, I’d be worried.” I lifted my wet hand and wiggled my fingers in front of the mirror. “With fingers like these, I’m starting to wonder if I even need you anymore.”
So, the next morning, when I brought out a mug of coffee to Marco with a polite smile and a happy, “Good morning,” I was a little staggered when he took a mug, but held out an expensive looking matte black bag. I took it carefully with a cautious, “What’s this?” It had some weight to it.
Marco sipped at his coffee and shrugged lightly. “No idea. It arrived early this morning.”