44

44
ARIA

I stepped out of the shower, taking a towel off the hook to dry my body before wrapping it around me. Sandro and I were in the same home—his penthouse, but fuck, I missed him. How was it possible to miss someone when they were a few metres away?
I raised a hand, wiping away the condensation that had formed on the mirror and I caught a glimpse of my flushed face in the reflection. I gripped the edge of the basin, taking a deep breath in as I squeezed my thighs together.
He wasn't even close to me, but the thought of him was strong enough to have my pussy aching for him, to have him inside me. It was torture, being horny all the fucking time. I groaned, dropping my head.
Sandro had me addicted to him—he gave me the highs and that's what I craved constantly. But he was working in his office and I didn't want to disturb him. I let out a sigh, tightening my towel as I opened the door.
I stepped out of the warm bathroom, into the much colder air and I witnessed how goose-bumps formed on my skin. My nipples hardened underneath the towel, sending a chill down my spine and I ignored how I felt, deciding that I wasn't going to interrupt him.
But when I passed by his office and heard him having a conversation in Italian, it took everything in me to not open that door.
Of course, I failed.
Maybe I'll just take a look.
I pushed the door open, holding my towel and I peeked my head through the opening. He was sitting behind his desk, a small laptop laid out in front of him and a phone pressed to his ear.
He raised his head, eyes landing on me and I heard his sentence falter just for a second before he regained his composure. Sandro cleared his throat and leaned back into his seat, patting his thigh and spreading his legs—inviting me to sit on his lap.
I want him so badly.
He continued to have the conversation as he watched me approach him, never taking his eyes off me. I sat on his thigh, pressing my back to his chest and I enjoyed his warmth. He wrapped an arm around my waist and gave me a kiss on my shoulder.
But I wanted more.
I leaned further into his touch, and I felt his hand rest on my lower stomach—the towel the only thing separating us. Shit. I was completely blinded by lust— by the need for him. It was overwhelming, and Sandro knew that.
"Non ti preoccupare," he said to the person on the phone, sliding his hand over my stomach to my bare thigh.
He stroked my skin, slow and feather light. It was a simple gesture, but my eyes fluttered close at the mere contact. He gave me a kiss underneath my ear, down the side of my neck—and I had to make sure to not let out any noise.
I could hear the faint murmuring of someone talking and Sandro was listening attentively. But I wanted all his attention.
He pulled the phone away, holding it at arms lengths before whispering, "you miss me?"
I nodded, licking my lower lip. Of course I missed him. Sandro smiled at me, returning to the conversation and I let out a sigh. I should probably get dressed.
Just as I was about to stand up, Sandro hand that had been on my leg clasped around my inner thigh, holding them open. I gave him a glance, but his eyes weren't on me.
"Yeah, I'm here. Carry on," he said, slipping his fingers underneath the towel.
He caressed my skin, higher and higher until he reached my pussy, taking in a quick breath when he felt how fucking wet I was for him. I looked down, taking in the view of his tattooed middle finger sliding through my slit. I clamped my lips together, an attempt at stopping myself from letting out a moan.
The sound of his voice, his proximity and the way he touched me—I didn't think I could stay quiet for much longer. When the fuck was he going to be done?
Sandro hummed, and it might have been a response to whoever he was talking to but the way it sounded...shit. I wanted to hear it over and over again.
Sandro spread my lips with two fingers, doing so without looking and I felt a finger start to push into me. He slid in easily, his finger lubricated by my arousal and my eyes rolled back. I dropped the back of my head on his shoulder, so unbelievable turned on. My pussy throbbed, desperate for him—just wanting his hands on me.
"Yeah," he said, his voice deep and accented. "A week from now," Sandro spoke, moving his finger in and out of me before adding another.
It was torturously slow. Brutally slow. I scrunched my face up in pain, but I wasn't in pain. I just wanted more. I could feel Sandro's heartbeat against my back, a lot faster than it was a minute ago.
"Sandro," I whispered, low enough for only his ears to hear. "More."
"Give me a second. I'll be right back," he said, taking his phone and muting it.
"Bellissima, I need you to be quiet. Can you do that for me?" he said, scraping his teeth over my earlobe as he continued to thrust his fingers into me. Harder than before. I gasped, the pleasure resonating through every part of me.
"Yes," I breathed, nodding my head.
"Doesn't sound like it," he said, taking my clit between the sides of two fingers and giving it a gentle pinch. It sent a tingle through me, but I grit my teeth together and didn't make a sound.
"My good girl," he said, and I felt his smirk on my neck. He unmuted the call, carrying on with the conversation.
Sandro was hard underneath me, and it strained against his pants. He was keeping a straight face when I, on the hand, felt as if I was going to combust. How was he able to keep his composure? I laced my fingers through his belt, undoing it and his head snapped into my direction. He didn't say anything as I dragged the leather through the hoops—using one hand to loosen the button and drag the zipper down.
He wanted me to be quiet, but let's see if he could do the same.
I wrapped my hand around his dick, pulling it out of his boxers and I nearly moaned just touching him. Sandro's breath stuttered, and I saw his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. I almost smirked—perhaps it wouldn't be too difficult.
I dragged the towel off my body, exposing myself and Sandro's brows furrowed when I slipped his fingers out of me and dropped to my knees. He leaned back into his seat, knowing my intentions and I laid my palms on his thighs. I licked the tip, and Sandro's sentence wavered when he took my hair in his fist.
"Yes,—" he said on the phone and switched over to Italian. I wrapped my lips around him, sucking hard and I gazed up to see that he wasn't looking at me. I raised a hand, using my fingers to turn his head into my direction. I wanted his eyes on me.
Sandro scowled, his breath quickening when I took him deeper until he hit the back of my throat. I breathed through my nose, trying not to suffocate while supressing my gag reflex.
"Listen, I'm going to have to call you back," he said—not waiting for the other person to answer before pressing a button and setting the phone down. I smiled. That was a lot quicker than I thought.
My smiled dropped when I saw the look on his face. Oh fuck, was he mad at me?
"Sandro—"
"Open," he said, and my jaw fell open automatically. The tip of his dick slid pass my lips, pass my tongue and into my throat. I choked, tears springing into my eyes but I kept him there—just wanting him to feel good. Sandro let out a harsh grunt, throwing his head back and I felt him wrap a hand around my neck, feeling his dick move in and out of my throat.
It was the sexist fucking thing ever.
"Oh, baby," Sandro groaned and when I looked up, his eyes rolled back. "That feels so good—fuck—that feels so good," he was breathless, his jaw clenching and his cheeks reddening.
I moved my head, hallowing my cheeks and I sucked. I did something with my tongue that had Sandro letting out the sweetest moan ever. I did it again and he shivered. He slid out of my throat, a long string of saliva following and I gasped for air. Sandro stood up, wrapping an arm around my waist while he swiped the contents on his desk to the side. He laid me on it, separating my knees—I had no time to think of anything before he lowered his head and his tongue was dipping into my pussy.
The both of us moaned, but I might have been a bit louder than him. He gave me a long lick, all the way from my hole to my clit and he wrapped his lips around it. Sandro grabbed my thighs, closing them over his ears—the thick hair on top of his head the only thing I could see.
"You have no idea what you do to me, bellissima," Sandro whispered, speaking against my soaked pussy. "You are so perfect," he said, dragging his tongue through my slit. As he kept his mouth on my clit, two fingers were pushing into me. The desk was cold against my naked back—a different feeling from his warm mouth on me and I enjoyed it.
My body start to shake, but I wanted my orgasm to be while he was inside me. The first was usually the most intense, and I wanted to savour it. I grabbed his head, making him look at me and I gave him a kiss.
"Sandro," I whispered, and he understood what I meant as I buttoned his shirt. He slipped it off, showing me his toned abdomen and the ink on his skin. Some days I struggled to understand how all of that was mine.
Sandro licked his lips, hurriedly taking his pants off. I opened my legs further, welcoming him and when he grabbed my hips, he slammed into me so fucking hard that my body hitched on the desk. I groaned, feeling full as he started fucking me. It was intense, and he didn't slow down.
"Fuck!"
He moved his hips, hitting that toe-curling spot inside me. Sandro leaned over, placing his palms on the table next to my head. His pace was constant, enough to drive me over the edge and I moaned uncontrollably. My breasts moved with his thrusts, and I had to hold onto them because it was starting to hurt. Oh my God.
Sandro held himself up on one hand, the other sliding between us to find my clit. He started circling, applying enough pressure while he fucked me on the desk. What the fuck—how could anything feel that good?
His chain dangled in my face, swinging with his movements. I clenched around him, unable to stop and I saw his eyes drop lower. He liked that, so I did it again until his forehead fell onto my shoulder.
My hands slid down his back, feeling the muscles flexing as he pounded into me. The sensation was overpowering— and there were a few times when I had to bit my lip to stop myself from screaming out.
"Push your hips up, baby," Sandro said, and I did as I was told. He slid his arm into the gap, circling it around my waist and I was lifted with him still inside me. He straightened up, holding me with one arm and with his dick fully into me—he kissed me hard.
I closed my eyes, moaning into his mouth and I felt Sandro sit back down on the chair. I started moving my hips. This time, I was the one fucking him.
"Fuck," Sandro croaked. "Just like that. You feel so good around me—don't stop moving. Please, don't stop moving," he grovelled, his eyes conveying just how good it felt for him. I was sure it matched mine. He sucked my lower lip, pulling it between his teeth while his hand wrapped around my neck.
"What the fuck," Sandro gasped. "Bellissima, why do you feel so good?" he asked rhetorically, his tongue twirling around with mine.
"Tell me that you're mine. Please, amore mio. I want to hear it," Sandro begged, kissing down my neck and shoulder.
I couldn't answer, too overwhelmed by the sensation to speak.
I moaned, moving my hips and slamming down on him.
"Please," Sandro whispered and I wrapped my arms around his neck to steady myself.
"I'm yours, Alessandro. All yours. I promise," I breathed, damn near seeing stars in my vision.
"Grazie," he whispered, giving me one last kiss. Sandro held my under thighs, keeping me still before he started thrusting upwards. I gasped and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. Sandro chased his orgasm, while mine had already shuddered through me. I came again, just as Sandro stilled and his cum was spurting against my insides.
Thankfully, I was back on the pill.
"I love you. So fucking much," Sandro said tenderly, taking my hand to lay a kiss on my knuckles. I smiled dazedly, taking his hand to kiss his fingers too. He was still inside me, hard and throbbing and I moved my hips one more time.
"I love you more, Sandro. Always."