Page 45 of Capri

“When I want something, I don’t apologize for taking it. It’s a flaw I haven’t tried changing.”

“Perfect. You can take me.” Her grin is stunning and alluring at the same time.

Where did this woman come from, and why would someone be stupid enough to let her go?

“Promise me you’ll speak up if it’s ever too much? I’d never want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. I’m not as fragile as I seem,” she whimpers.

“Nothing about you is fragile.”

I run my thumb across the center of her core, making sure I shield her from the driver catching a glimpse. “Is my dirty girl soaked for me? Does the thought of me fucking you raw make you wet, sweetheart?”

Capri moans and reaches for my cock. “I need you to touch me, Jones.”

At this moment, it doesn’t matter with who or where we are; nothing can stop me from giving Capri what she wants. Nothing. “Look ahead for me. Don’t make a sound. Think you can do that?”

She frantically nods before settling herself, anticipating my touch.

“Lay your legs across my lap, baby. Nothing crazy, just turn toward me,” I instruct, wanting her to appear relaxed as I touch her.

Capri shifts her legs, lifting them to cover my lap and goddamn it, she doesn’t need instruction, opening them slightly to make room for me.

“È una bellissima giornata, signore,” the driver calls to me, complimenting the weather, while I use the conversation as a buffer to drag my hand up the inside of Capri’s thigh.

Her body jolts, and her eyes never leave mine as I stroke the center of her core, ghosting the lace fabric of her panties. I pull her close and whisper, “Lean into me,” before responding to the driver as I slip my finger inside. “Sì. La brezza è fantastica.”

I’m just shooting the shit with him. Whatever it takes to keep him focused on the road ahead and less on the woman about to come in his backseat.

Catching Capri by surprise, I thrust two fingers into her center, and a sharp yelp escapes her lips, her body seizing. “Bite me,” I tell her calmly, trying to keep myself from ravishing her right here. “You feel like screaming, bite me here.” I point to my shoulder.

A wicked grin passes her lips, likely the idea of marking me more than satisfactory to her.

“Cinque minuti di distanza,” the driver tells us.

Excellent. Five minutes is plenty of time to take care of her.

Thrusting two fingers, I slowly pull out and circle her clit. Fuck, she’s so swollen. I can feel the heartbeat of her pussy, throbbing for relief. Capri’s sharp teeth penetrate my skin, and I have to fight like hell to not let my growl be heard. I cough, covering up the sound of her heavy breathing, and make quick work of bringing her to the edge.

Capri’s body weight sinks into me, her teeth latching on as I pinch her clit and shove a third finger inside. My hand curls, reaching for the spot I know will send her over.

She purrs in my ear, her body shaking and battling to thrust against my hand and cry out in pleasure.

“Look how good you’re taking my fingers, Capri. Holding in your sweet cries when I know how much you want to scream. Isn’t that right?”

She bites harder. “Fuck.” I exhale sharply. “Less than two minutes away, sweetheart. Give it to me.”

It’s as if that’s all she needed to hear, because the walls of her pussy close around my fingers, creating a death grip on me. Her squirming picks up, and I whisper quiet praises in her ear while she rides out her orgasm.

“Jones,” she whimpers against me, her breath heavy and her body succumbed.

I kiss her forehead and slide her off me, righting her panties into place.

“Siamo arrivati.” The driver pulls to a stop, and I turn to Capri, finding her eyes hazed with lust and entirely relaxed.

Knowing she’s waiting for me, I draw all three fingers into my mouth and suck her arousal clean, reveling in the squeal Capri makes watching me.

“Perfect, we’re here,” I say, unbuckling our seat belts and stepping out of the taxi to open Capri’s door.

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