Elsa
Marcello slides both hands under me and hugs me tightly as his cock slides inside and out, harder and faster, until I feel myself contracting inside. I swing my head back and allow the orgasm to take me over.
“Harder,” I moan.
He pushes at me twice as hard. I can feel him close on my heels, but I can’t stop the rapture any more. I scream, my body tightening as I come, and Marcello’s hips don’t stop stroking, impaling me. Another stroke, and another. I hear ringing in my ears. It is too much. With a wild howl, I come for the second time and my sweaty body collapses to the mattress.
Marcello slows down, becoming almost lazy in his movements. He clutches my wrists and lifts my arms, towering over me on his knees and observing my breasts-satisfied and triumphant.
“Come on my belly. I want to see it,” I breathe, exhausted.
Marcello smiles and tightens his grip on my wrists.
“No,” he replies, and picks up the pace, pushing wildly again.
A while later, I feel him spilling inside me with a warm wave. I freeze. I am still not sure about the effectiveness of my shot. It’s still possible for things to go wrong. He doesn’t stop coming for a long time, fighting me as I thrash wildly to escape his sweet seed. When he is s finished, he collapses onto me, sweaty and burning.
I keep still, looking into his eyes and feeling the anger leave me. I adored it when he was open with me-it didn’t come easy to him, and I appreciated the effort.
“Marcello, I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow and you can’t stop me,” I tell him sternly.
“What for?” his eyes search mine for answers.
“I have to get another shot. This one is getting kinda ineffective,” I respond and bite my lip remembering the panic I went through doing the tests today.
“Okay, I will have a gynaecologist come over and check on you,” he whispers, kissing my shoulders his hand playing with my nipple.
“No, Marcello. I am going to meet my doctor. I already gave an appointment, and you are not going to stop me,” I say, fury rising in me once again.
“Well see,” he mutters, kissing the back of my neck.
His hips start to gently move, and I feel him getting harder inside me again. He keeps kissing my face and talking.
His hips pick up their pace, and his arms wind around me, tightening, and I can feel his skin burning up, beading with sweat.
I don’t want to listen anymore-it makes me remember that all of what was happening was not what I had wanted. I couldn’t help but think just how cruel, brutal, and ruthless the Marcello could be. Not that he has ever been like that to me, but I have seen what he is s capable of.
These thoughts make my head flood with anger again. His moving body getting on my nerves, causing the fury in me to rise.
Marcello pulls back for a second and looks me in the eyes. What he sees makes him freeze.
“What’s happening, Elsa?” he asks, his eyes searching for an answer in mine.
“You don’t want to know. Now get off me already!” I jerk, trying to escape his clutch, but he doesn’t budge. His eyes are cold again-the mafia has returned-and fighting him makes no sense at all.
“I want to be on top,” I say through clenched teeth, grabbing his buttocks.
Marcello watches my face for a while longer, finally wrapping his arm around my waist and turning us over, never slipping out of me. He reclines, lifting his arms, just like I had a while ago.
“I’m all yours,” he whispers, closing his eyes. “I don’t know what made you so angry, but if you need some control over me to calm down, here you go,” he adds, opening one eye. “There is a gun in the drawer on the left. The safety’s off.”
Slowly I rise above him, falling back down onto his hard cock. What he has said amuses me, but at the same time, I grow disoriented. I am still angry, too. I clump my right hand over his cheeks like a vice and squeeze hard. His eyes stay closed, but he starts to clench and unclench his jaw. Steadily, I lifted myself and slid right back down, letting him slide deeper inside. I want him to know what I feel. I need to punish him for everything. Hurt him. And I only knew one way to do that.
I push myself up, and when he feels what I am doing, he opens his eyes. I shoot him a warning glare and go to find a bathrobe in the closet. His seed is dripping down my legs. I drag my finger through it, gathering some of the sticky cum, and lick it off my finger, keeping my eyes trained on him. His prick starts to throb.
“You’re sweet,” I say , licking my lips. “Want to try?”
“I’m not a fan of my own taste, so I’m going to have to pass,” he replies, disgusted.
“Sit up,” I ordered, sitting astride him.
Calmly, Marcello does as he is told, crossing his arms behind his back, as if knowing what I am about to do.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks me in a tone more serious than normal.
I chose to ignore his question and tie his hands so hard he hisses with pain.
Then I push him to the bed and reach out to the drawer on the left, pulling out the gun. Marcello doesn’t even flinch. He pins me with a stare that says: I know you wouldn’t dare. He is right, of course. I am not brave enough to do it, but I also don’t want it. I rummage through the drawer again but didn’t find what I was looking for. I reached for another one and… bingo! I pulled out a sleeping mask.