Page 3 of The Almost One

Marco walks us to the closed door of his office and slams my back against it, holding me in place as he lines up his cock with my pussy while still completely owning my mouth. The wall is cold against my skin, but it’s soothing at the same time.

He slams into me, the small sting as he enters mixed with the pleasure is fucking beautiful, and I tilt my head to the side to give him better access to my neck as his lips trail their way across from mine. With one hand still gripping me, and the other practically gouging holes into the door behind me, Marco fucks me with abandon. It’s fast, it’s rough, and it’s full of passion—just like everything he does.

Rolling his hips, he slams into me, again and again, and another orgasm begins to grow. The sensations flow through my rock-hard nipples, my fingertips, every nerve ending, as our heavy breaths and the slapping sounds of our bodies fill the room.

“Oh, holy motherfucking shit!” I scream as the orgasm hits, my pussy pulsing in time with my pounding heart when the hand Marco is holding me up with pulls out the butt-plug.

One, two, three more hard thrusts, and Marco grunts out his own release as I continue to pulse around him.

“I’ll let that one go, Tesoro. I love that filthy mouth when I’m pounding your perfect little cunt.” The smirk he gives me before claiming my lips once more almost melts me. If Icouldmelt any more than I currently am.

Is there such a thing as an orgasm coma?

I think I’m about to find out.

When he finally relents, pulling away from me, he slides his cock from me and guides my legs gently back down to the floor. I have to lean against the door to hold myself up; jelly legs are a real problem.

“Put this on. I’m taking my wife upstairs.” He throws me his black shirt, which only just covers everything, as he slides his pants back on, hiding away his still-hard cock. The man has stamina.

“Your wife’s a lucky woman.” Buttoning up the shirt, I step toward him with a smirk.

Rounding his desk, Marco opens a drawer and pulls out a folded cloth, coming back toward me and falling to his knees again, all the while keeping eye contact with me as he brings the cloth up my thigh from my ankle, cleaning away any remnants of our cum.

“I do love a man on his knees. Maybe I should get you a cushion for next time? Do you like pink?”

He shakes his head in amusement, as if he doesn’t know what to do with me, before he stands, grabbing my legs as he does, and throws me over his shoulder like a motherfucking caveman.

I love it.

“Come on, Wife.” He lightly taps my ass before opening the office door and heading toward the staircase.

Halfway up the stairs, the sound of Stefano loudly clearing his throat stops Marco in his shirtless tracks.

“Sir, you have a visitor.”

“Tell them to fuck off, Stefano. I’m busy.” He begins to move up the stairs again, only to pause as the sultry tones of a woman interrupt our ascent.

“Buona sera,Marco.Sono venuta in un brutto momento?”

I really need to learn Italian, because this bitch sounds like sex on a stick with that accent and it pisses me off. I’m not usually one to hate on other women for no reason, but this one already has my hackles rising.

“Yes, it’s a bad fucking ti—” Marco’s words end abruptly just as he turns around.

They obviously know each other and I can’t figure out what’s bothering me more… how perfectly put together this woman looks, or the fact my husband is suddenly speechless at the sight of her while half-naked with me tossed over his shoulder.

I move to slide down from my position, placing my bare feet on the stairs beside him, and turn to look at our intruder.

In any case, it’s undeniable that she’s fucking stunning. And nope… not today, Satan. The way she looks at me—like shit on her shoe—makes me want to punch her in the tit. Then she averts her gaze to Marco, trailing her eyes all over his naked torso.

“Marco, who the fuck is that? Who the fuck are you?” I’m addressing them both at the same time, my eyes burning holes into anything they land on, my neck beginning to ache with how much I’m swinging it back and forth.

Usually, I wouldn’t be this… overprotective? Yeah, that’s what I’m calling it. There’s just something about the way she looks at us that doesn’t sit right.

Slowly, she smiles like a cat who knows her mouse is trapped in her claws, using a finger to push a strand of her red hair behind her ear before speaking. Looking Marco head on, she proudly announces her identity.

“I’m his fiancé.”

CHAPTERTWO

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