Page 100 of Sweet Prison

“Then stop handling me as if I’m made of glass.” I grab his tie and pull him closer to purr into his ear. “That other you. The one you let out only with others, but never me. The vicious and untamed one. I wanthimto fuck me tonight.”

Massimo’s body goes still. “We are one and the same, baby,” he whispers.

“I know.” I grab his chin, mimicking his hold on me. “So don’t you dare deny me even the slightest part of you. From now on, I want the whole of you, Massimo. Can you give me that?”

Something flashes in his eyes. Something dangerous. And a little wicked. His gaze remains locked on mine as he unbuttons his pants and slides the zipper down, releasing his hard-as-steel cock. My breathing picks up and turns ragged as he lays his palms on my bare thighs, slowly sliding them higher.

“Apologies for the dress, baby,” he rasps. In an instant, a loud rip echoes throughout the room.

A large chunk of red silk sails to the floor, landing by Massimo’s feet. He moves his hungry gaze to my chest, pausing on my breasts for a moment, then, continues his downwardsweep. The front panel of my skirt, the flimsy scrap that extended off the bodice and barely attached to the long train at the back, the part that created an illusion of two thigh-high slits, has been obliterated. Leaving my bare pussy fully on display.

“This dress wasn’t meant to be worn with underwear,” I say.

Those devilish eyes glow with unbridled hunger as if my words have unleashed a starving predator. His nostrils flare and his lips quiver on a deep, guttural growl as he reaches out and presses his thumb to my core. I shudder. It may only be a single touch, but it’s as if he’s set off a barrage of fireworks with it. Needing something to anchor me, I grab the lapels of his jacket, fisting the fabric as I pull him closer to me. The tips of his fingers brush my delicate folds while his other hand finds its way back to my neck to fondle the straining tendons of my throat.

“Zahara,” he rasps, sliding his fingers inside my pussy. First one, then he adds another.

My wetness slicks his hand as he pushes in and out. Slowly but with hard, measured strokes. Every plunge stretches my walls, driving me to the edge of oblivion. Throwing my head back, I extend my neck, pressing it more firmly against his palm and reveling in the way his grip tightens.

“Zahara… Zahara… Zahara…” He curls his fingers deep inside of me, caressing my most sensitive spot.

I shudder as wave after wave of tremors racks my body. Instead of abating, the intensity seems to grow as he levels more pressure on his touch. I’m burning up, consumed with fever as electricity sizzles through my veins. I feel everything… and everywhere, completely out of control.

“Yes?” I manage to form the word. It comes out sounding more like a moan.

“Are you ready to take all of me, baby?”

I tilt my chin and nip his ear lightly. “I’ve always been ready, Massimo.”

His answering growl thunders around us as he slips his fingers out. Grabbing my knees, he opens my legs wide and thrusts his huge cock inside me, filling me to the brim.

I suck in a breath at the sudden intrusion. He’s so big I nearly faint from the overload of sensation. There’s a bit of discomfort, bordering on pain, but all at once, it also feels so, so good. I relish the burn, clenching my inner muscles around him, floating on a new tidal wave of bliss.

Massimo wraps his arm around me, pressing his left hand to the small of my back while he sweeps clear the surface of the desk with the other. Papers, pens, books, and even a few picture frames launch across the room and crash to the floor. Then, he seizes my chin. With our faces mere inches apart, he urges me backward, laying me down on the massive desktop while his body covers mine. As he repositions his fingers along my jawline, I can smell myself on them, feel the slickness of my arousal coating his calloused skin. It excites me. As does the anticipation of more while his other hand glides down along my outer thigh and lifts my leg, moving it over his shoulder. And then, he just looks at me.

“Perfect,” he whispers just before he pulls out. A split second later, he’s thrusting back in.

He pounds me with such ferocity that the desk skids across the floor with every hard slam of his hips. I’m left holding on to the front of his shirt, clutching the material like it’s my only earthly option. He growls. Breathes heavy. He’s loud when he fucks. Unrestrained. Unbound. Untamed.

I love it. Love him. Every facet of this complicated man.

His right hand slips to my throat, squeezing it lightly. In that instant, a sense of triumph grips me. Reticent to lose it all too quickly, I clench my fingers around his wrist, making sure his hand stays exactly where it is. And then, with our gazes locked in a silent exchange, I seize his throat with my free hand.

Air leaves my lungs in short sharp bursts, matching the tempo of his movements. I inhale when he plunges in, exhale when he pulls back out. Tangled in an unwavering staredown as we continue to hold each other’s throat, he fucks me like a madman. There is something animalistic in this position. In how I can feel the corded muscles of his neck under my palm. The vibrations while he growls. And he can feel each time I swallow, each time I draw a labored breath. It is as if we truly are as one.

The legs of the desk scrape the wooden floor from the force of his onslaught. I’m fighting for breath, barely managing to get enough oxygen with each shallow draw. Massimo must notice my struggle because his hold on my neck loosens. Not happening. I squeeze his wrist even harder, burying my nails into his skin.

That coil at the base of my spine gets tighter, twisting and twisting until it finally snaps. The release—a galactic explosion—unlike anything I’ve felt before. I’m spinning, dazed, riding the euphoria of my orgasm when he suddenly lets go of my neck. His cock slides out, and I moan in protest of the loss. But two large hands grab my ass cheeks, lifting my lower body up. Tongue. Warm, wet, velvet. Spears inside my already quivering core. Lips. Hard, demanding. Seal around my clit. Suction. Strong, mind-melting. Teeth, grazing the hypersensitive flesh. And then… a bite. I scream. Careening again over that exhilarating cliff and shattering into a cloud of stardust.

“Heaven,” he mumbles into my pussy. “I’m going to lick every last drop of your nectar, baby. And then, I’ll make you wet all over again.”

He does just that, stroking that masterful tongue of his inside me now. Lapping my inner walls as if he truly intends to lick every drop off me. I grab the short hairs at the top of his head, pulling his face closer, forcing him to reach deeper. Wanting more of his mouth. Then, when his lips close around my clit, sucking on it, I almost faint.

“Jesus baby,” he growls as he lowers my ass back down and buries his cock in me again. “Can you see what you do to me? I can’t fucking decide if I want to fuck you with my tongue or my dick.”

My climax hasn’t even ebbed, and I already feel the next one building. A rush of pure elation swells within my limp body, rising higher and higher with each of his frenzied thrusts.

“Zahara, Zahara, Zahara…,” he rasps as he pulls my hair free of its bun, fisting the scattered tresses in his hand, and thrusts into me so hard that the desk bangs against one of the shelves, dislodging several books.

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