Page 18 of Captured Fantasy

“Christ, you’ve got a tight pussy,” he breathed.

“I’m sorry, I hadn’t had sex in a while.”

“It’s good, don’t fucking apologize.”

His fingers curled in my hair, holding me against the desk. He was the second man to grip my hair while he put his cock into my body in the last hour. My eyes rolled back in my head involuntarily at the thought. My God, it felt good to be touched after such a long time.

He thrust and I cried out at the harsh intrusion.

“Quiet,” he warned.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed.

He put his fingers over my mouth, still holding my hair with his other hand. I went limp as he fucked me hard, not caring if he hurt me. And I basked in it.

I’d never had a man younger than seventy fuck me and it felt completely different. Gino had had limited stamina from smoking heavily his whole life. He’d fucked slowly, sometimes needing me to take him in my mouth to get him to orgasm.

Federico took me with all the vigor of a much younger man. He panted against my throat and his lean body slammed into me with each stroke, sending vibrations through my clit. I lay under him, listening as his breath quickened and feeling as his cock hardened enough to hurt. After a few minutes, he fell over my body, pinning me to the desk as he spilled himself deep inside me.

“Keep still,” he ordered, grabbing a handful of tissues.

I felt him pull from me and he tugged my already soaked panties up my thighs and brushed my dress down. I heard him wipe himself and his zipper hissed. He circled the desk and sat back down.

“You’ve got a nice pussy,” he said, taking up his cigarette.

His cum seeped out of me and stung the sensitive skin of my inner legs. I squirmed, but only succeeded in making my thighs a sticky mess. He noticed the subtle shift of my hips and the corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked smirk.

“Anyway, Mrs. Russo, I have a meeting coming up. I’ll drop by your house later this week,” he said. “And we can discuss things further.”

I had a feeling that discussing things further wouldn’t involve very much actual discussion. Federico’s phone pinged and he glanced down at it.

“Amadeo is here,” he said.

“Already?”

“I messaged him when I locked the door,” he said. “Better go on then. And Mrs. Russo, I can’t give you your freedom back, but I’ll make sure you are comfortable and have whatever you need.”

Disappointment flooded my chest. I could tell the conversation was over so I nodded and crossed the room. As I turned to slip through the door, I caught the expression on his face. Deep, unsatisfied hunger. He wanted more, that was apparent. I caught his gaze, holding it for a moment before dropping my lids, biting my lip so I looked small. Helpless and a little flushed. He took the bait, his chest rising and falling. I slipped out the door.

Lucien stood in the doorway to his office, his gaze fixed on me as I descended the stairs. His eyes narrowed as he raised the cigarette to his lips and a shiver moved through my body. I forced myself to keep walking, to shake back my hair and keep my spine straight as I moved past him.

His hand shot out, circling my wrist and pulling me to a halt. Those ice cold eyes bored into me, unswayed. I’d gotten through to Federico, but I wasn’t sure if there was a better nature in Lucien to appeal to. Perhaps he was ice all the way through to his freezing core.

“You are a troublemaker, aren’t you, Mrs. Russo?” he said.

Outside, a horn sounded and I jumped, tearing away from him. As I pulled open the door, I glanced back and caught him watching me. Like a panther in the heat of the afternoon, too lazy to bother pursuing its prey.

Amadeo waited at the curb, leaning against the car. When he saw me, he flicked away his cigarette and opened the passenger door. I settled into the seat, crossing my legs and hoping desperately I wouldn’t leave a wet spot. Amadeo glanced at me as he pulled out onto the street and headed to the grocery store, but he didn’t say anything until later when he dropped me off at my house.

“Thank you for driving me,” I said, gathering my purse.

He released a sigh. “You didn’t listen to a word I said, did you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” I stepped out of the car, glancing down to make sure I hadn’t left a mark.

“Just be careful, Mrs. Russo,” he said softly.

He helped me carry my groceries into the house. I stood in the door and watched him drive away. I could tell by the line across his forehead that somehow he knew what I’d done and he disapproved of it.

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