We’re the first ones off the plane and Tony moves through the airport with long strides. I decide he wasn’t serious about spanking my pussy. It was part of his torture of getting me excited and then telling me no. Another punishment.
But then he makes a sharp turn and tugs me toward a restroom. A stand-alone family restroom.
Thank the lord.
The second we’re inside and the door is locked, he pins me to the wall, my wrists pinioned under his meaty palm, his other hand stroking between my legs. His lips crash down with a kiss.
It’s a hard, demanding kiss, the kind that leaves you breathless. The kind that I thought only happened in those movies where the characters are tearing each other’s clothes off. And yeah, that’s what I want to do. I run my hands over Tony’s hard body, exploring the hard lines of his washboard abs, his thick cock straining under his pants.
He drops to his knees, apparently not caring about his nice trousers getting dirty, and tears my panties off. With one hand pressing my middle against the wall, and one holding my knee up, he dives in, shocking me with his tongue.
He clearly knows exactly what he’s doing. The guy licks me from anus to clit without hesitation. I squirm against the wall, silent squeaks coming from my throat. He slides two fingers in me, stretching my pussy as he flicks his tongue over my clit.
“Jesus, you’re tight, baby.”
“Yeah,” I pant.
He shoves his fingers in and out, hard. “No talking.” His tone is deep and hard.
I throw my head back, my standing leg buckling.
It doesn’t matter; he holds me up, fucking me with two fingers, sucking my clit. When he changes position to put his thumb in my pussy and a finger on my anus, I shriek.
“Uh uh. No sounds. Hold your breath and I’ll make you come.” His wicked fingers keep working every erogenous zone, massaging my anus, pumping in and out of my pussy.
I do as he says and hold my breath.
He’s right. The deprivation of oxygen brings me right to the brink and then hurtling over the edge. I keep holding my breath through the orgasm that makes my entire body convulse with pleasure, not dragging in a long, desperate breath until I’m on the other end of it.
And then I nearly pass out.
When the room stops spinning, I find myself pinned against the tile by Tony’s large body. I cling to his shirt, panting.
“Fuck, Pepper. You have the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted.”
I scoff and shove him away enough to drop down to my knees. I definitely owe him one.
He unbuckles his belt and opens his pants. His cock springs out, already erect. I open my mouth and lick around the head, then take him deeper.
He grabs my hair. “Wait, wait, wait.” He pulls his cock out of my mouth. “I don’t want to fuck with your throat, songbird.”
I’m actually… shocked.
What man cares more about a girl’s throat than getting head? Even if that girl is supposed to make him nine hundred grand with her voice.
He grasps my upper arms and pulls me up to stand, then spins me around and bends me over the sink counter. Smack. His palm greets ass before he shoves my dress up to my waist. I turn around to make sure he has a condom, and he does; he’s ripping it open with his teeth.
For a moment, I have that queasy panic I get before sex, like I need to fight but can’t, and it scares me, but then he wraps his huge hand around my throat, caging it loosely and meets my gaze in the mirror. Instantly, I’m captivated by the moment, turned to putty in his hands.
“You like to pretend this is payment due, right, beautiful?” His lips are at my temple.
My brain stutters on his assertion, but my ass pushes back, heat pouring through my pelvis.
His grin is feral as he rubs the head of his cock against my entrance. “I’ll play that game.” He pushes into me and I gasp at the stretch. “But we both know you’re the beggar here.” He eases in. “Madonna, you’re tight.” He goes still, seeking my gaze in the mirror again. “Please tell me you’re not a virgin.”
I laugh and shake my head.
“Thank fuck.” He draws back and pushes in again, filling, filling, filling me. It’s delicious. There’s no ickiness, no fear. Only pleasure, and the desire for more.
And he gives me more.
Because Tony Brando doesn’t hold back. And he’s a dirty mofo, too. As soon as he’s plowed me open, he’s working his thumb into my ass, using saliva to screw it in.
The sensation shocks me. It’s naughty and wrong and feels so good. He holds me captive with the thumb in my ass-ensures I’ll brace myself against the counter and hold still as he delivers thrust after punishing thrust.
“Is this how you pictured it, baby? You wanted me to give it you in the ass?”
I shake my head, then nod, then whimper.
He reaches around and pinches my nipple, shoving his hand down the front of my dress and into my bra. “Let go, baby.”
I don’t know what he means, except to turn off my brain, to stop trying to figure out what all this means about me.
“Take it,” he growls. “Take it, little songbird.”
I moan, a real sound, and he fucks me harder, faster. My hips bump painfully against the counter, but he must notice, because he shifts to wrap his arm around my waist, protecting me.
“I’m coming,” he announces, and my body must take it as a cause for celebration, because I come, too. The moment he shoves in deep and stays, my muscles squeeze and milk his cock, ripples of release flowing down my inner thighs and the backs of my legs.
Tony curses softly in Italian and eases out, disposing of the condom and washing his hands. I don’t move-mostly because I don’t think my legs will hold me. Brando moistens a paper towel and cleans me, which is both embarrassing and sweet. He retrieves my soaked panties from the floor and helps me step into them, sliding them up and arriving with his hands on my ass.
He steals a kiss, like he’s sampling my taste, then rubs his lips together. “Mmm. You okay?”
I nod.
“Can you walk?”
I laugh and nod. Is it normal to not be able to walk after sex? Apparently with Tony Brando it is.