I pull all the way out, wanting to feel her pussy take every inch of my cock all over again.
And I do it over and over and over, pull out all the way and then ram back into her, her pussy barely having time to recover, pulsing, aching, trembling as I thrust into her.
I grab her arms and lock them behind her back, reaching for her head, lifting it so she can see us in the mirrors.
“Watch me fuck you, little hellion. Watch how you make me lose control. Watch me fuck you like
I’ve never fucked anyone. Watch me come for you, and only you, darling.”
One hand keeps her hands pinned to her back, the other slides under her to her clit.
It’s hard under my touch and I stroke it until I feel her cry out and squeeze around my cock, coming on me.
And then I do it again. Keeping her locked to me as I push her to her third orgasm, until she can barely breathe, begging me to give her mercy, then and only then I let go of her arms and grab her hips as I fuck her. She’s watching us through hooded eyes and I drive into her over and over, using her cunt for my pleasure and mine alone.
Making her mine.
Making me hers.
“Oh god, I’m going to fill you up with my cum, little hellion. Yours. God, I’m yours.”
I grunt and erupt inside her, as my orgasm rips through me like brush fire, burning everything in its path, uncontrolled. Her whimpers fill my ears and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her upright as I bond her to me, my teeth digging in her shoulder as I leave nothing behind and give her everything.
“Darling, my girl, my love, my everything,” I murmur, no sense of anything around me but my cock buried inside her, spent.
At some point, we collapse to the floor, our cum dripping onto the floor and onto the wrecked dress under us.
We curl against each other, two halves just trying to be whole.
“How do you feel?” I ask once my soul has returned to my body.
“Well, I don’t think I can come back here, but not because of the bitches.” She chuckles.
“Fuck this place, Rissie. It doesn’t deserve you. When you think of Ravel, I want you to remember you and me, what we did together. And that’s all, okay?”
She nods, her head moving on my chest, probably listening to my heart beat for her.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
A male’s voice booms and we look up to see Ravel standing there, hands on his hips as he takes in the spectacle of us naked in the middle of his showroom floor.
Clarissa scrambles to cover herself while I laugh, rolling over onto my back, in full post fuck splendor.
“Well, hello there, Ravel. How are you doing?”
He splutters, but doesn’t look away. “Explain yourself, Matthias. You can’t just come in here and kick my staff out.”
I stand up, fully aware my still half hard cock is pretty much waving at him while Clarissa gathers up the dress to cover her and stands behind me.
“Really? And your staff can insult my fiancee and refuse her service, refuse my credit card?”
He turns white under his fake tan and he spins around to look at his two sales assistants, who for the second time that day, realize too late that they’re dealing with the wrong person. “I’m sure it was a mistake, Matthias.”
“Really Ravel? You’re lucky I’m not making you and every person here get down on their knees and beg my fiancee for forgiveness. I suggest you find a way to make it up to my fiancee.” I look around.
“I’d hate to find a new tenant for this place. But I will.”
I pull my clothes on, pants, T-shirt, and then drape my shirt around Clarissa’s arms. Leading her out of the showroom, I throw the ruined dress at the women’s feet.
“It’s a nice dress, but I’ve seen better. I think we’re going to go somewhere that actually appreciates our business.”
I open the door for Clarissa, who walks out with my cum dripping down her legs, and her head held fucking high.
CLARISSA
W
e’re on a plane to Milan.
We’re on a plane that Matthias is flying, to Milan.
From the showroom Matthias had had Kevin take us straight to the airport, where the company jet had miraculously appeared. Or at least, where it had been summoned while Matthias was madly texting, his hand on my inner thigh as I rested in the car.
At one point he’d cryptically started a strange conversation about how personal security is so important, and did I make sure that where I kept my passport was secure.
I told him, “Well, I keep it by the nightstand in our bedroom. If that’s not a safe place then you need to tell me now.”
I didn’t even put two and two together; I was too busy reliving every second of what happened at Ravel, what was done and what was said.
So when we arrived at the airport, there was a bag of my clothes, my passport, and my toiletries that appeared on the plane, ready for an impromptu trip to Milan.
“We’ll find you a dress there,” he says as he clicks his seatbelt in place.
I admit I pull mine tighter than usual. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I ask, looking at all the buttons and levers, tucking my arms in against me so I didn’t inadvertently touch something and eject us both out of the damn plane.
He doesn’t say anything as he’s busy reading something off the dash and scribbling something in a notepad. “Of course, I got my commercial pilot’s license when I turned twenty-two,” he says, tucking the notepad into a side compartment of his seat. “And I’ve only ever almost crashed one plane,” he jokes. “Two if you count iffy landings. But I blame the ground at our winery in Barossa Valley. We hadn’t had it properly laid yet. Totally not my fault,” he says defensively.
“So, whenever you say you hopped on a plane…”
A wide grin stretches from ear to ear. “I mean, I hopped the plane there, so to speak.” He hears something on the radio and responds. “Ready?”