Page 15 of A Valentino Princess
“That’s it. Scream my name, princess. No one can hear you but me. Scream for me,” I tell her, biting down harder. “Your moans are such a pretty fucking sound.”
“Marco, I can’t…” She shakes her head from side to side.
“Yes, you can. You need this as much as I do. You need to fuck that foul-ass mood out of yourself. Use my cock like you wanted to use it last night. Use me to get the release your body is begging for,” I tell her.
“I… Oh god, it’s coming,” she says and stiffens.
“That’s it. Fuck yes. Come for me. Milk my cock. It’s all yours,” I grunt as I start pistoning my hips upwards into her. My own release is right there. The way her pussy is convulsing around me, her mouth open in that perfect O-shape… “Fuck!” I moan into her neck as I fill the condom.
Helena’s head lands on my chest. Both of our hearts beating out of control, our breaths heaving.
My hands run up and down her back in soothing motions. “Did that feel like someone who doesn’t want you?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “No.” Her voice is quiet. “I was a bitch, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say that. Mostly because I’d be scared of you slicing my throat in my sleep if I did.” I chuckle, and Helena slaps me on the chest.
“I wouldn’t do that,” she says. “I’d have someone else do it for me.”
I believe her.
“We should get to the café.” I sigh.
“Yeah. Although I wouldn’t be opposed to taking a sick day and having another go at it. Or several.” Helena smiles, and I almost take her up on that offer.Almost.
“If we don’t turn up, a search party will come looking for you,” I remind her.
“Yeah, probably.” Helena climbs off me. “You ruined my panties,” she says as she settles back into her seat and slides a ripped pair of black underwear down her legs.
I reach over and snatch them from her hand. “I’ll keep 'em safe for you,” I tell her as I shove the lacey material into my pocket. Then I go about removing the condom and folding it up in a napkin I find in the center console before pocketing that too. I don’t need to be leaving this shit in a Valentino car.
“If that’s how you deal with my bitchy moods, I might have to pout more often.” Helena laughs. “Also, you do realize that I now have to work all day without any panties on.”
I frown at her. “We’re stopping on the way to buy you some. You are not walking around without underwear.”
“We don’t have time to stop now. Don’t worry. I have spare clothes in the office,” she tells me.
“You sure?” I ask her. I really don’t want her walking around like that all day. It’ll do my fucking head in.
“Positive.” Helena’s eyes twinkle with mischief. I don’t believe her, but I don’t have much choice here either. We really have taken too long of a detour.
Chapter Thirteen
Imight have told a white lie to Marco when I said I had clothes in my office. He was not impressed at all when we arrived, and I suddenly remembered I had taken my spare clothes home.
It serves him right for tearing my underwear, though. Maybe next time he’ll think twice before ruining my things. I’m a little pleased that the knowledge I’m walking around here without panties is bothering him. The amount of times I’ve seen him adjusting his crotch is amusing.
I might have also purposely bent over far enough that he could see up my skirt. I felt him immediately stand behind me, grunting something about shoveling the eyes out of anyone who sees me.
I’ve never experienced this level of… cavemanishness, alpha-maleness, possessiveness? I don’t know what you call it. I’ve seen it with the men in my family. It’s how they are with their wives. I’ve just never had it directed at me, and I honestly didn’t think I’d like it as much as I do.
I can see why the women in my family all look lovesick 24/7. There is something about feeling like you belong to someone. Them feeling like you belong to them anyway. Having someone who wants you completely. I’m not saying that Marco wants me like that, but it’s close. The way he watches me…
Okay, that could also be because he’s literally been ordered to watch over me. But still.
The vibration of my phone in the pocket of my apron has me pausing. I don’t pull it out, not with Marco looking over my shoulder every time I do. I’m not even sure why. He can’t read what’s on the screen.
“Where you going?” Marco asks when I walk past him towards the kitchen.
