“I need to see you completely naked,” he breathes, his dark eyes roaming over me in captivation. “Every inch of you bare like a blank canvas, ready for me to paint you in any damn way I want.”
He grabs the waistband of my jeans, tangling up my underwear in his meaty paws, and then drags both down in one brutal movement. I giggle and writhe as the material brushes achingly against my sex. My clit tingles and glows. My lips scream with the friction heavy contact.
“Take off your shirt,” he commands. “And your bra. Now.”
“Bossy,” I tease.
But really I delight in sitting up and stripping off my T-shirt and then reaching around to unclip my bra. A note of shame threatens to sting me, but only for a moment.
When I see how Lorenzo eyes stare at me, at every part of me, lust replaces the shame with flaring brightness. Lorenzo’s dark orbs glint with desire as they move from my neck, over my breasts, to my belly and then down to my pussy.
Every single piece of me – even those parts I thought men would hate – he drinks in, reaching down to slide a hand up and down the front of his pants.
“Fuck,” he whispers, snatching his hand away before he loses control. “I need to be inside of you. I feel my seed roaring at me in my mind.”
“I feel the same,” I say, rubbing my legs together as wetness smears between my thighs. “Not your seed. My womb. It’s fucking yelling, Lorenzo.”
He stumbles onto the bed and tears his clothes off. I reach up and help him, popping buttons and sending them flying to the floor. I throw his suit jacket across the room and it knocks over the weird egg decorations, sending them cascading across the room with a click, click, click as the jewels hit the hardwood floor.
We don’t stop. We don’t care.
The only thing we care about is each other.
He pulls down his pants and I stare down at our bodies smashed together, every inch of him lined with hard muscles and a fine layer of hell hot sweat coating his carved form.
He reaches down and grips his manhood, stroking the engorged head against my lips, up one and then down the other, teasing me as he strokes it in small circles around my clit.
His precome slathers my aching pussy, and his cock makes a twitching movement as I moan, as though eager to drive up inside of me.
“I’m going to burst you open,” he whispers, leaning down, our noses brushing as we stare directly into each other’s eyes. “I’m going to drench my cock in your hymen’s sweet juices. And then I’m going to use it as lube and fuck you until both of us are so tired we can barely move.”
I grip onto his shoulders, digging my fingernails in.
I feel them bending under the unyielding force of his god like body, never giving an inch, solid fucking rock.
“Do it, my king,” I moan, with a hint of sass.
He smirks, before turning savage again. “Of course, my queen,” he growls.
He arches his back and drives his cock up inside of me, the massive spear pressing against the walls of my pussy and feeling like he’s splitting me completely open.
I never guessed I’d feel so full, as though Lorenzo DeLuca is stuffing every part of me, my pussy walls stretching and my hole aching as it wiggles to accommodate him.
Deeper and deeper, he pushes, until his balls are flush against my ass and he’s buried to his soaked hot hilt.
Then – oh, God, yes – the discomfort slides away and heavenly sap flows through me, soothing and relaxing my body.
Then it flares, violently and steamily, as my pussy screams out under the pressure of his cock.
I arch my hips, shifting, my pussy buzzing with the closeness of him.
“I can feel you opening for me,” he whisper growls. “Your body’s blossoming like a fucking flower, and I’m about to make you rose red.”
“Do it, baby,” I moan. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. I can take it.”
He smirks. “My brave little queen. Do you really think you can take what I’ve got to give you?”
I lean up and bite his lip, arching my eyebrow, ignoring the still present nerves in favor of sassy sauciness. Nerves still thrum and writhe, but screw them.
I’m done being paranoid all the time.
It’s time to live.
“I can take it, bad boy,” I fire. “But can you give it?”
“My innocent little queen,” he growls, sliding out and then pumping back into me with a hard thrust, his manhood pounding deep inside of me.
“Like that,” I moan. “Oh, jeez. Yeah, Lorenzo. Just like that.”
I shift my body up and down in time with his thrusts.
He slams into me, driving his cock up into my body like a warrior thrusting his spear, the inflamed end sending hisses of smoke and fire all throughout my lower half.
I feel them spreading, enveloping me, heat and orgiastic flurries captivating me down to the frickin’ atom.
I let my moans go as I bounce up and down, kissing his sweaty neck and raking my fingernails down his back. I pump my hips faster and faster, focusing everything I have on the buzzing in my pussy, the way his cock seems to pulse and throb inside of me.
His face is torn as he stares down at me, like it’s taking everything he has not to just explode and fill me with gallons and gallons of his seed. I imagine him coming for days, pumping me until his frothy white perfection is gushing like a waterfall out of my mouth, only stopping when every part of me is filled with his come.
“Fuck, these need milk coming out of them,” he growls, leaning down and biting my nipple softly. He caresses it with his teeth, and then sucks, groaning. “I can’t wait to taste your sweet fertile sap.”
“Oh, baby,” I moan. “But I think you’ll be too greedy. What about the children?”
He laughs
