Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
His name rumbles from my throat as an orgasm scorches through me. Stars blister as a revitalizing zap shudders my wary bones. My climax is draining and long but rejuvenating. I’m floating on a cloud that’s sailing too high for anything bad to invade, and it makes me feel safe.
Do I deserve this level of protection? Giovanni lied to me. He made out that he didn’t know who I was referencing while trying to unearth his connection with Valeria, but instead of bringing it up again, I’m allowing my libido to dictate our exchange.
That’s wrong.
“Who… was… the woman?” I ask between pants, my body uncooperative with the interrogation my brain wants to undertake. I know Valeria’s name, but I can’t mention it since I’d have to disclose why I was at the clinic with her.
Giovanni sucks my clit into his mouth, upending my campaign. I can’t speak through the sparks firing through my body. Can’t move. I also can’t breathe.
I’ve never felt so good.
But this isn’t me. My father came close to killing my mother because I was proof of his extramarital activities, and I am determined not to make the mistakes my mother made.
“Giovanni…”
When I rake my fingers through his hair, more to pull him off me than hold his mouth hostage to my pussy, he clamps my hands to my sides, then goes to town.
He eats with an expertness that announces his skills at giving head, and in seconds, he takes control of my body.
It’s a pity for him my brain is controlled by a different entity than my body.
“Who is she?” My shout reverberates throughout the penthouse and drowns out Giovanni’s noisy licks as he laps up the remnants of the orgasm I tried to stave off and failed.
I shake through the aftermath of a climax that makes me more angry than happy before I un-suction Giovanni from my pussy with a cruel tug on his dark locks.
He’s furious that I’m denying him. And his sneer is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Who is she?” I ask again, with less shouting this time.
I slap his hands away when he grips my thighs and drags me closer. It does me no good. Faster than I can snap my fingers, he lifts me onto his lap and notches the crown of his cock at my opening.
Although I hate to admit this, even with my anger at a pinnacle, my breasts grow heavy with desire at how easily he tosses me around.
His ease gives the impression that I’m weightless.
“Gio—”
“Valeria is a friend,” he interrupts, his tone a harsh bark. “A business associate.”
“A friend?”
He hums in agreement, and the vibrations of his deep timbre dart straight to my core.
Stupidly, I examine his eyes for any hints of dishonesty. I hardly know the man stealing my astuteness with a fantastic cock. I found out his name only hours ago, so how can I possibly know if he’s lying just by looking at him?
Insanity. That is the only logical excuse.
My inner muscles clamp around his thick cock when he enters me like we’re not in the process of an imperative conversation. I’m drenched front to back, but it still burns to take a man as well-endowed as him.
“Giovanni…” This call of his name is more a silent demand for comfort than answers. I’m stretched wide and painfully riding the crest of pleasure and pain.
“I’ve got you, dolcezza. All you have to do is let me in.”
I nod, naively believing his statement means more than unclenching my vaginal walls.
“Good girl,” he praises when I swivel my hips, loosening their grip.
He sinks in deeper, veering this wreck more toward pleasure than pain.
With one hand, he guides me on and off his cock, while the other stimulates my clit until nothing but the chase is on my mind. I’m sensitive all over, both mentally and physically, but content. Like that makes any sense.
As my moans turn into cries, Giovanni’s speed picks up. He plunges into me, harder and deeper with every thrust. I claw cruelly at his back, certain I’ll leave a mark. His brutal pounding gives me no choice but to hold on for the wild ride, but part of me—clearly the negative side—wants to leave a trace of my existence. That way, if I can’t read him as well as my hazy head believes, the signs a woman looks for when they believe their man is straying will be as obvious as the sun hanging in the sky.
Giovanni doesn’t seem bothered by the prospect of being marked by me. With his rhythm unaffected, he shimmers his shoulders, discarding his ruined dress shirt with an effortless shrug. Then he places my hands back on his shoulders before fucking me to oblivion.
Now the choice is completely out of my hands. If I don’t sink both my nails and teeth into him, I’ll scream so loud that my mother and aunt will hear. That’s how well Giovanni fucks.