Page 43 of Velvet Chains

He took his time warming me up, gently and slowly licking me and sucking on my folds. As my breathing sped up he focused more on my clit, applying more speed and pressure with his tongue. He slid one finger inside me, then two.

“Fuck,” I moaned under my breath.

I felt so hot and wet. He began to slowly fuck me with his hand as he licked me. I looked down at him, my eyes wide, my moist lips panting and open. I could feel my orgasm building. My body and face were hot with anticipation.

"Oh, fuck!" I moaned again. A wave of pleasure soon washed over me and stars filled my eyes. My body was tense and my eyes squeezed shut as my orgasm washed over me. My hand gripped Vincenzo's hair tightly enough to sting.

He held my thighs and finally brought his face away from my pussy as he felt my breathing slow and the last few shudders run through my body. He stood up and faced me again. I sat there on the bedside table, glazed with sweat.

I grabbed him and kissed his lips, his face, enjoying the taste of his skin. He buried his face in my neck again, kissing and sucking on me. I looked at him as he moved downwards to kiss my breasts again. He pulled me off the desk, turning me around, so my hips were pushed up against it. I could feel his hard cock through his jeans between my butt cheeks as he pressed himself against me, kissing me back. I pushed my back into him.

"I want you." I pleaded.

“Say please,” Vincenzo said, in a firm tone.

“Please,” I begged, my voice soaked in lust.

He pressed the head of his cock to my pussy lips and I pushed back against him eagerly. He rubbed the tip at my entrance then he slowly pushed himself into me. I gasped and pushed back, taking as much of him in as I could.

He teased me with long slow strokes, knowing I wanted to get fucked hard. Bent over the desk, I was lost to my own pleasure and desire. As I reveled in the feeling of having Vincenzo’s cock inside of me, I realized how badly I had wanted him. An animal attraction, just raw chemistry.

Then he began to fuck me hard and deep, slamming my hips hard into the desk with each thrust.

I was gasping, "Oh God…"

“Take the Lord’s name out of your mouth while I fuck you senseless, baby girl.” Vincenzo groaned, still thrusting.

He grabbed my waist with one hand, hard. The other hand he wrapped around my throat and squeezed. My breath came out hard and ragged.

"Oh, fuck... Vincenzo."

I came so hard I saw stars.

He fucked me hard until he came too, his cock pressed as deep into me as he could get it, filling my pussy with his cum.

I panted as he slid his cock out of me, both of us slick with juices and cum.

I could get used to this, indeed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

VINCENZO

In the days following the attack, my determination to take down Don Antonio and solidify my position in the Cupola became all-consuming. My study transformed into a war room, with every available surface covered in documents, maps, and strategical plans. The soft glow of desk lamps cast shadows on the walls, and the air was heavy with the scent of aged paper, ink, and the lingering hint of cigar smoke from late-night sessions.

I spent countless hours in there, my mind razor-sharp and my resolve unyielding. I pored over every detail, every possible scenario, every move Don Antonio could make. My focus was laser-like, driven by a fierce determination to protect Isabelle and secure my position.

The pressure was intense, but I thrived on it. I was in my element, using every ounce of skill and cunning to outmaneuver my enemies. The Cupola was within my grasp, and I would stop at nothing to claim it. Don Antonio had made a grave mistake by targeting Isabelle, and now he would pay the price.

I spent hours over financial records, coded messages, and surveillance reports, searching for the elusive weak spot that would bring Don Antonio down. Pietro worked with me in a seamless rhythm.

The strain of balancing my campaign for the Cupola, protecting Isabelle, and finding a way to expose Don Antonio was wearing me down. My eyes were often bloodshot from lack of sleep, my movements driven by sheer force of will. Despite the mounting pressure, I maintained a façade of calm determination, my mind constantly calculating the next move.

Pietro and I were a well-oiled machine, working together to uncover any advantage we could use against Don Antonio. I knew I could count on him to have my back, and together, we were unstoppable.

One evening, amidst the chaos of papers and plans, I finally uncovered the crucial piece of evidence I had been searching for. Hidden within the labyrinth of financial records and coded messages, I found the proof I needed: a direct link between Don Antonio and the murder of Don Salvatore Messina.

Exposing this information would be dangerous and had to be handled with extreme care.

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