Page 60 of Casanova LLC

Or maybe I sounded exactly like myself: my true self.

He’d done it. He’d changed my voice.

And that propelled me fully over the edge. Jolting, wrenching, my entire body squeezing inward, collapsing in on itself like a black hole. Through it all, his finger stayed inside me, unmoving, giving my thirsty body something to draw on.

The first sensation that surfaced after my complete obliteration was his warm body as a blanket around me. I arched again, turned partially in his lap, nuzzled my cheek into his shoulder, and melted my shoulder against his chest.

We were quiet.

But then I laughed. I think. Or did I cry? I’m not sure. It might have been both at the same time. I settled myself into his lap and his hand came to the side of my face and I sunk down into his chest. Down, and down. Down, down, down, into sleep.

Alessandro

About fifteen minutes later, she slowly—so slowly—lifted her head off my chest.

“Good morning,” I whispered.

“God,” she croaked.

Smiling, I smoothed a hand down her side and she began to readjust herself. “One second.”

“Oh, of course, I—Oh! You’re still in there.”

“Figured you’d notice sooner or later.” I languidly swirled my finger, freeing it from her still-liquid center. She sighed as I gently eased out of her.

I untied her askew mask, slipped it off. “Bellissima.” I brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her cheek. Her brow. Her jaw. Then I pulled back and rested my head against the wall, taking a moment to assess her. To enjoy what had been accomplished.

She looked like she’d been pulled out to sea, tossed and tumbled, and then cast back to shore.

“I think it’s bedtime.”

That adorable vertical line appeared above her nose. “But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Don’t you want to…you know.”

“No, I don’t.”

She shifted her ass across my lap. And again. “You sure?”

Yes, I was still hard. Raging-hard. Had been all through her nap. But I shook my head and resituated myself, and her, so that she sat on my thigh. “If you want to come again, though…”

She paused. Then reached up and undid my mask. Removed it slowly, dragged it down my chest, my stomach. Then she cantered back, giving herself more room, more room to maneuver her hand between our bodies and head south. Instead of stopping her with words, I stood up, forcing her to throw her arms around my neck, her legs around my waist. Her soft heat directly over my hard one.

I carried her like that through the sala, out the door, up the stairs, into her apartment, the bedroom, and set her down on top of the dresser. She steadied herself as I stepped away, went to the bed, and pulled back the covers. I needed a moment more to recover.

So I took a few extra seconds to arrange the pillows.

A few more seconds to let my weight sink into my hands on the mattress.

Yet a few more to take a breath.

Then I straightened and turned back to her, bracing for what I would see.

Spread legs dangled off the dresser, one stocking in place, one falling down her calf. One side of her skirt was stuck in the hip-band of her akimbo panties. One breast spilled over the corset, the areola of the other just beginning to peek.

She was more dishabille than she had probably ever been in her life. Following my gaze, she looked down at herself, spilling out from all the costume’s nooks and crannies. She chuckled, glanced up at me. “You sure I can’t reciprocate?”

---