Page 201 of His Pretty Little Duet

He stands, grabs a perfect diamond-shaped pillow, and walks into the dressing room with it grasped in his fist.

The length of his body a long form, muscles curving and flexing in a smooth predatory way. This man is every bit as formidable and powerful when he's naked as at any other time. More so in a smooth, unaffected fashion, as though he could just as easily kill a man in this state.

His suited form, muscles visible beneath layers of expensive fabric, is not what gives this powerful man his intimidating presence. It is in his very being.

He places the pillow on the ottoman and nods towards it, and I blush, remembering when I touched myself there. “Lay down, mount my pillow, and twist your face towards the mirror. I want you to watch.”

Heat creeps up my neck, the warmth of excitement blooming across my skin, and when I crawl on the ottoman and look at myself, my skin is slowly pinkening.

Steadily, I lay flat; the ottoman is long enough to accommodate my entire length. I watch as the deadliest man in the city, naked, all trim lines and tattoos, places a knee on either side of my body. He repositions me and the pillow until it is between my legs and under my pelvis.

His eyes are hooded as he gazes at me—my backside arched up, my pussy instantly grinding on the pillow, yearning for that blissful pressure.

I am swimming in ecstasy as I stare at his reflection. He looks so much larger than me in the mirror. A formidable six-foot-five physique hovering over a smaller frame, barely the same species we are so utterly opposite.

That is what we are. What we look like all the time. The orphan and the Mafia Don.

He uses the bottle in his hand to lubricate his palms. I swallow, my white skin now glowing deep hues of rouge.

I moan as his hands work my muscles down to my backside, attentive and warm. My body is lax and opening. He begins to massage the cheeks at my bum, and I gaze down to watch his cock strain against his navel. Thick like my forearm. Covered in perfect blue veins that pulse.

I roll my bottom lip against the upper to the sight of him, his massaging movements sway his body, his cock heavy, moving with him. It’s an erotic view.

“Sir.” His name tumbles from my lips when firm palms massage up my back and down again, my entire body loosening under his skilled kneading.

Then his finger touches the rim between my cheeks, but I don’t clench around it. I watch him instead. His eyes are glued to his masterful workings. He rims me leisurely, dipping in and then out. Something like a moan but far too guttural to be one, fills my throat. I love the sensation. I begin to press back again, and he stills his finger. “That’s my good little deer.”

Swimming in heat and thick air, I rock my hips back and forth, rubbing my pussy on the pillow and then taking his finger in slow stretching inches.

“Christ,” he says through a heavy exhale. “You’re simply the prettiest thing I have ever seen. That’s very good. Your body loves being full of me. All your pretty holes available and open. You are just nervous, sweet girl. Watch me enjoy your lovely little arse.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as he slowly drags his finger from inside me, all my internal muscles rippling, and my body shuddering at the last pop.

He presses the crown of his cock to my puckering rosette, and my eyes fly open to watch him. With his brows tight, his mouth open and panting, he inches inside me.

His cock stretches the tight, defiant rim, sliding through the muscle, forcing my pelvis harder into the pillow. “This is my little arse. My sweet, supple body. I will never hurt it—Christ, you feel good,” he groans as he continues to penetrate me.

My head spins.

My arousal coats the pillow.

I clench to his choppy breaths.

“Fuck,” he bites out. “I want you like this. Laying over my ottoman when I get home. Humping your pillow. Panting. Wanting for my cock to fill your arsehole.”

I am riveted to the way this large man takes my body, each inch of his thick erection disappearing within me. I open my mouth to gasp, my tongue flat to the bottom of my jaw, seeking air. I take him. It’s all I can do.

My pussy spasms.

As he impales me, he lowers himself to his elbows, and the change of position sends a forewarning thrill of sensation through my backside. There is more.

It screams there is more.

The hand that was playing with my arse before grips the cushioning of the ottoman, squeezing, while his other hand wraps around my jaw and mouth. “Suck on my fingers like a good girl, little deer.”

Dipping his index finger and his forefinger between my lips, he soothes me. I suck them as he starts to fuck me.

Fuck… me…

---