Then he runs the head of his cock over my clit, up and down, exerting just enough pressure that I can’t stop the needy sound that rises from me. Can’t stop my hips from chasing his touch, can’t keep myself from loving the way the blunt head of his cock feels, working my clit through the damp lace.
I want more.
I grip his powerful forearms, careful to avoid the bandage on his wounded arm as I steady myself. “That doesn’t mean you can control me.”
Touching him proves a mistake, because it just makes me needier.
“Watch me,cara.” With a cruel smile, he drags himself faster, lower, alternating between strumming over my clit and teasing my entrance.
I don’t even realize his other hand has gone to the hooks on my bra until they’re undone and it pops open, leaving my breasts to spill free as the straps glide halfway down my arms. Then he sucks a nipple back into the hot recesses of his mouth.
“Scorpion,” I protest, but it’s breathless.
Annoyingly so. I’m already on the edge, this cat-and-mouse game we’ve been playing from the start an aphrodisiac every bit as potent as his touch.
He bites my nipple. “Lorenzo.”
“Ouch,” I protest, but the sting sends a jolt of lust arrowing through me.
I like it. I want him to be rough with me. To take what he wants. Is that the lemon drop talking, or has being with Lorenzo brought out a part of me I didn’t previously know existed?
“Say my name,” he demands, then moves to the other nipple as he continues using his big cock to torment me. “I’m not Scorpion when we’re in bed together. I’m Lorenzo.”
For a moment, I’m thrown back to Chiara.
I press my nails into his uninjured arm and try to angle myself away from him. “We’re not in bed.”
I don’t even know how he does it. One second, I’m on my feet and he’s edging me through my panties, and the next, I’m flat on my back on the bed.
“Problem solved,” he announces, then reaches for my bra, tugging it the rest of the way off.
“Hey,” I protest, reaching for it.
I’m too slow. He whips it over his shoulder and stands at the edge of the bed, fisting his cock. He’s as turned on as I am by this rough back-and-forth. There’s a bead of precum seeping from the slit on the head of his cock.
“Tell me you want this big cock in you,cara mia,” he commands, his voice gravel wrapped in velvet. “Tell me you want me to stretch your pretty pussy and fuck you so hard and so deep and so good that you forget your name.”
Damn.
I can feel a new rush of wetness seeping from me at his words. I want that. And I want to say it. To beg him. What’s wrong with me?
“But first,” he continues while I watch, mesmerized, as he keeps stroking that magnificent cock, “you’re going to take off those panties for me. Then you’re going to spread your legs and beg me to lick you and suck on your clit.” His thumb swirls over the tip, slicking precum across the ruddy skin and making it glisten. “But you have to be a good little wife. I’m not going to let you come unless you beg me first.”
I could come from his words and nothing more at this point, but I still have my pride.
And I decide that two can play this game, so I cup my breasts and pinch my nipples, twisting and pulling.
“I don’t take orders, Andriani.”
A muscle tightens in his jaw, the only sign that I’ve pushed him too far. “You do now.”
But I don’t care, and neither does his dick, which is still rigid and leaking.
“Nope,” I tell him, popping the p for emphasis the same way he does as I release my right breast and slide my hand slowly down my stomach toward the elastic waistband of my panties. “And I don’t beg.”
He lunges for me, grabbing me and flipping me onto my stomach so fast the world spins. I’m pressed facedown in the fresh-scented comforter for only a second before his palm comes down on my ass. There’s more sting this time than the last, but the effect is the same. A sudden rush of heat snakes low through my belly.
“You’re wrong about that,cara,” he warns silkily, palming my cheek before he issues another warning smack.