Page 53 of The Enforcer

“Oh,” I breathe again. “Grab your dick.”

He wraps a meaty, scarred hand around his shaft, and I push two fingers into my wet pussy.

“I want to see you come,” he tells me in a rough voice.

“Ask.”

“Voglio vederti l’orgasmo,” he says. “Per favore.”

We both know that ‘per favore’ is the only part of that sentence I can understand, but it doesn’t matter; this moment is all about trust.

“Sit on the bed.”

He does.

When I pull my hand from between my thighs, the cool air hits my wet fingers. I slip them into my mouth. I’ve always loved the way I taste.

To be honest, I want to rush to him. I’m so fucking horny that all I want to do is come as fast and as hard as I can. Hell, I’m so wet that I don’t even need him right now. I have a toy in the other room that will have me shuddering and screaming in five minutes max or writhing on the bed for the next hour, depending on the settings. Alfonso’s given me enough material to get me off for the next few days, at least.

At least.

But of all the things my exes could accuse me of being, sexually stingy is not one of them. My mother would love it if I developed that skill, but I don’t have it in me. The more, the merrier, and one good orgasm deserves another. So, I step in front of Alfonso as my gaze darts down to his wet, hard dick. It’s turned a vivid shade of red in the time it’s taken for me to get here.

“Are you holding it too tight?” I ask, concerned.

“Do you want me to loosen my grip?” he asks, which is not an answer to the question I’ve posed, by the way, but it does make the follicles on my scalp tingle.

I make eye contact with him, and what I see in his eyes is…a lot. His face is reddening with arousal — and pain, I’m guessing — but his eyes are calm, serene even. This is the calmest I’ve ever seen him.

I lift my left leg and place it on his thigh with a hard slap.

He says something that I interpret as a curse, and it only makes me wetter. “Stroke yourself.”

His body sags when he releases his dick, but only long enough to lick his hand and then grab himself again. He strokes his shaft slowly, his eyes on my face.

“Do you want to look at my pussy?”

He laughs, and it sounds like a soft, breathless sigh. “I want to see all of you.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “I’m not hiding much.”

He grunts but otherwise doesn’t answer. I assume he’s too preoccupied.

I move my right hand over the curve of my stomach, and he hungrily watches as I caress my mound in teasing circles and then my clit and my lips.

“Cazzo,” he breathes and strokes himself faster.

We both shudder at the sound of my fingers sinking through the moisture toward my opening.

He licks his lips. I watch that red head swell inside his tight grip. His free hand is settled on his left thigh, which is a waste if you ask me.

“Pinch your nipples again.”

He nearly knocks me over, the way his body jerks.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t stop fucking his hand.

Okay, I need to add that to my list of shit I like, even though I’m not sure how the hell I’d word this specific thing.

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