Page 100 of Niccolaio Andretti (The Five Syndicates)
“How do you want me?” I ask, hoping she’ll let me dominate her, because fuck, I need this.
“Hard. Rough.” Her voice lowers, and she rubs her pussy against my cock, our bodies separated by our damn clothes. “And bare.”
I growl at the filthiness of her words and the trust in me they reveal. My fingers dip into her tiny shorts, ones that I’m starting to love, and it’s a shame that I have to rip them off of her. And I do, tearing the shorts and her sexy lace panties at once, until she’s bare for me, her pretty pussy glistening in the moonlight.
I don’t even bother taking anything else off, leaving my shirt on her torso because I want her to remember that she’s mine.
My hand dips into my pants, wrapping my fingers around my cock. I stroke it once, groaning as she takes my bottom lip into her mouth and sucks on it, grazing it with her teeth before she releases it. I fist my cock and run it along her slit, soaking it with her wetness, which has left a trail down her inner thighs.
She moans into my mouth, and I ram my cock into her waiting pussy without a warning. She screams at the contact, her mouth moving to my shoulder and her teeth biting down hard on the muscle there. Her nails draw blood from my back, but I don’t fucking care.
Dominant and in control, I command her body, using her pussy like it’s a vehicle for my pleasure. I pound into her, unrelenting as she chants my name like it’s a prayer. Each thrust of my hips pushes her harder into the wall, but she doesn’t complain as she takes everything I give her and gives it back as she meets each of my thrusts. My lips drift down to her nipples, and I suck on one of them roughly through my shirt that she’s wearing, biting down on the hardened bud and enjoying the tantalizing smell of both of our scents mixed together.
I feel like I’m marking her. Claiming her. Making her mine. But I need more of her, more of this. I knead her ass roughly with my hands before moving them to her narrow waist and gripping the skin there. I grab her waist and slam her down onto my cock to meet each of my hard thrusts, the need to come overwhelming now, but I refuse to let go until she falls apart on my cock.
And when my fingers brush against her clit, it’s all it takes for her to start spasming around me, and only then do I empty myself into her, the tight clenching of her walls milking every single drop out of me. When we’re done, I don’t pull out of her. I don’t think I can.
“That was…” she trails off, struggling to find the right words.
But there aren’t any, so I just say, “Yeah,” agreeing with her.
I keep her in my arms as I carry her inside of the warehouse, taking her into my room. I reluctantly pull out of her pussy and place her on top of my bed. I get in behind her, curving my body around hers and pulling the sheets over us.
I should probably clean her, but I don’t want to. I want part of me in her even as I pull myself out of her, and that should scare me, but it doesn’t.
Good God, I think I’m finally ready for this.
For our relationship.
There are a million things I need to do the next morning, but I can’t help but wake Minka up with my mouth on that sweet pussy of hers, my teeth grazing her clit. And my God, when she rides my tongue, coming hard around it, I nearly spill my load on the sheets like a fucking teenage boy.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” she says, a post-coital glow on her beautiful features.
I smirk but don’t respond, because I plan on waking her up like that as often as I can. We still haven’t resolved the argument from last night, but I know she’ll accept Mina’s words when she’s ready to. And I’ll be there for her when that happens.
Until then, I plan on showing her that there’s a silver lining to this. While she’s showering and getting ready for the morning, I make breakfast and pack it in a picnic basket along with a blanket. When she’s done, we go outside, and I set up the picnic in front of the river, ignoring her smirk as she watches the domestication of the panther that used to be me.
When we’re done eating, I stare at her and say, “Curse.”
Her eyes widen, taken off guard by the unusual demand. “What?”
“That’s something you gave up years ago for this quest of yours. But you no longer have to.”
She glances uneasily at me. “Not filing for custody of Mina doesn’t mean I should stop trying to
be a good role model for her.”
“True, but the way you choose to be a good role model will be on your terms. Not because you think Social Services will hear you cursing and snatch her away from you.”
She opens her pretty mouth, no doubt to argue my statement, but she closes it immediately when she realizes that I’m right. I can see it in her eyes that she has had that fear before. In fact, she’s probably spent the past four years fearing that anything she did at any second may have resulted in the fury of Social Services.
And now that she no longer has those worries, I hope that she feels free, untethered to the responsibilities that were weighing her beautiful soul down.
She throws her head back and yells to the water, “Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!”
My eyes widen for a moment. For a second there, I didn’t think she’d actually do it. My mouth spreads into a grin, and even though it sounds ridiculous, I shout with her, “Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!”
“Damn it!”
