The Woman with the Ring (Costa Family)

“I’m not possessive of you,” I scoffed. “I don’t like anyone thinking they can disrespect me like that in my own home.”

In the kitchen, Cassidy was slamming around as she put all the pots and pans back before I could hear her running the sink to, I imagine, load the dishwasher.

“Didn’t think about it like that,” Primo admitted, nodding. “She’ll be gone tomorrow.”

A part of me wanted to insist that he didn’t have to do that. I didn’t exactly like the idea of being the reason someone lost a job they were probably relying on. But then again, you shouldn’t get to keep a job when you were being inappropriate either.

So I went ahead and decided to be okay with it.

“Good,” I said, nodding. “What are you doing?” I asked as Primo’s fingers started to slide up the skirt of my dress up over my calves.

“Got all dressed up for me, hm?” he asked, and I tried to pretend my belly wasn’t fluttering as I felt his fingertips tracing the side of my knee, then my thigh, as he continued to move the material upward.

“Absolutely not,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound as breathless as I felt.

“No one else here to see you,” he told me, voice a low, smooth sound that I swear felt like it washed over me even as his fingertips grazed my inner thigh.

I should have been telling him to stop.

But those words refused to move from my brain to my lips.

“I dress for myself, not for you,” I insisted, trying to hold onto a small shred of pride even as my damn traitorous thighs spread a little for his explorative fingers.

“Oh, that’s right,” he said, eyes molten. “You undress for me,” he said.

And I would have objected, jumped up, gotten the hell away from him for that.

But the second he said it, his fingers were pressing against my panties.

Suddenly, not even my pride mattered anymore as his thumb sought and found the bud of my clit through the barely-there material, and started working it in slow, practiced circles.

“You…” I started, sucking in a deep breath at the sensation.

“I, what?”

“Can’t,” I choked out.

“Seems like I can, lamb,” he said, pressing a little more firmly. “And it seems like you like it,” he added, lips close to my ear. “Your pussy is already dripping for me, and I’ve barely touched you,” he went on.

I wanted to deny it.

But it was true.

Whether it was logical or not, my body was aching for his touch, was throbbing with the need for release. And his fingers hadn’t even slipped under my panties yet.

Even as I thought that, though, his hand shifted up and dipped under the material. A soft gasp escaped me as he traced between my lips, circling around, but refusing to touch my clit.

His gaze was fixed on me the whole time, dark and penetrative, heavy-lidded with his own growing desire.

“Shh,” he murmured when he thrust two fingers suddenly inside me and a choked whimper escaped me.

His other hand moved up, pressing my head down on his shoulder, and holding me tight against him so my lips were on his neck, muffling the sounds as his fingers started to fuck me.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinking about this pussy in a week,” he told me as my hips started to rock against his thrusts. “Been waking up every morning fucking aching to be inside you again,” he went on.

They weren’t love words.

Not by a long shot.

But my damn heart still managed to start fluttering in my chest at them.

“You’ve been missing my cock too.” It wasn’t a question. And a part of me wanted to object, but I knew it wouldn’t come out even halfway truthful since I knew he was right. “You moan out my name when you’re sleeping,” he added, making a flush break out across my face, neck, and chest at the idea. “Took more self-control than I thought I even had not to press you back and wake you up with the cock you were begging for,” he added, thrusting a little faster with his fingers.

Feeling his cock pressing against me, I shifted my legs out of the way so my hand could slip down and massage the head of him through his pants.

Primo’s sharp indrawn breath was all the encouragement I needed as my hand moved up, working his button and zipper free, then reaching inside to wrap around his bare cock, finding him heavy and straining for more contact.

And at that moment, I didn’t care about keeping up pretenses, about not letting him know how desperate I was for him, despite my better judgement.

So I stroked him to the rhythm that his fingers were fucking me.

“I need to fuck you,” Primo growled as his fingers twisted inside me, stroking against my top wall, the sensation making my whole body jolt.