"No!" It was an automatic response.
Enzo chuckled softly. "I'm afraid I've discovered quite a bit of evidence to the contrary, Ally." He paused a moment then asked in a suspicious tone, "You wouldn't be fibbing to me about that, now, would you, Ally?"
Her answer was immediate and quite strident, lest he decide to spank her for lying. "NO!"
He chuckled again. "All right. I believe you."
Those probing fingers slid partly up inside her with relative ease, considering how open he was requiring she hold herself, and she gave a guttural sigh from the joy of being filled by something, even it wasn't his cock. But her relief was short lived as they moved onward and upward to capture that impudently swollen clit and stroke it in an annoyingly slow fashion, as if he was lazily rubbing a cat's nose.
"Enzo!" she yelled, trying to move against his hand without actually breaking position.
The fingers stopped immediately. "I suggest you rethink that tone quickly."
Ally almost growled aloud, but decided against it. "Pleeeeaaaassssee!"
Much less demanding.
He said nothing but continued teasing her off and on for so long that she thought she was going to find herself collapsing onto the coffee table. She had never been so thoroughly teased in her life—she didn't know if her other lovers wouldn't do it because of who she was or what, but Enzo seemed to have no such problems taking firm control of her. Unfortunately for her.
Then, suddenly, he withdrew from her and lay down on the couch on his back. "Take off your panties and come here."
Barely able to move, the muscles in her legs like noodles, she complied slowly, but somehow managed to place herself astride him in one piece, noting that, again, he was fully clothed and she was naked except for her bra, and Enzo reached up and relieved her of that, cupping and squeezing the flesh he'd revealed.
But that wasn't what he wanted. "Move up. I want you to sit on my face."
Ally looked thunderstruck at what he'd said. That was one of the few positions she truly didn't like. It felt uncomfortably aggressive to her, as if she was imposing herself on him for the purposes of her own pleasure, and, sexually, at least, that went against her grain.
But she was—slowly—beginning to learn that it wasn't a good idea to challenge Enzo, even by passive resistance. So, she huffed and groaned and generally made a fuss about it until she found herself with a knee on either side of his face. The steady heat of his breath had her vulnerable clit at attention like it never had been before, and, as his lips closed around it and began to suckle, she had to grab the top and arm of the couch to steady herself—she was already feeling faint, and he'd only just begun.
"You taste like raspberries," he breathed against her, and even that had her half contracting.
His hands weren't lazy while his mouth was so busy, either. Those rough fingers were pinching and pulling at nipples that were loving every second of it, swelling and throbbing for him, begging for more. He seemed to know the exact right pain to pleasure ratio, sometimes extending just a bit beyond where she was comfortable but quickly returning to coax her back into the light with more tender touches.
She arched herself away from him—out of his limited reach—several times, accidentally, completely given over to the throes of what he was doing to her, so his hands eventually left her breasts in favor of holding her hips down so that she had to surrender control over the most intimate, sensitive area of her body to him to do with as he pleased.
The next time she began to move away, a hand reached down and cupped a bottom that was—surprisingly—thrumming nicely along with the pulsing in her pussy. It added to her enjoyment rather than detracting from it, and that was all down to him and his particular talent.
And then, she felt a crisp smack and relaxed fully back down to him.
And another smack fell—shaving just the slightest edge off her excitement.
She wouldn't have believed it if he'd told her, but he could have postponed her orgasm indefinitely by doing just that.
Unfortunately, she had a good idea that he already knew that.
He kept her there, riding the razor's edge of paradise, and no amount of pleading or begging or even threats could make him budge. And the threats proved to be a very bad idea. In response to those, and to let her know that they would not be tolerated, he withheld his mouth from her but didn't stop spanking her, and it was as if he'd thrown some kind of switch and it morphed into a serious spanking as he delivered painful swat after swat until he could see a tear drop onto her breast.
Then he opened his mouth again and began to soothe her, his right hand cupping the cheek he had so recently scourged and squeezing occasionally. He could tell by her irregular breathing and the tempo of her moans that she was seconds away from coming and he decided to let her—this time, anyway. Perhaps the next time, he wouldn't be quite so generous.
He did everything he could with his mouth to ensure that she felt every sensation he was giving her to the fullest—rubbing, flicking the tip of his tongue and stroking the flat of it over her until he felt her body tense incredibly and she threw
