The Woman with the Ring (Costa Family)

“We can’t,” I said, still vaguely aware of Cassidy loading the dishwasher not too far from us.

I should have been horrified at the idea of being caught doing something so intimate with someone. But a petty little part of me almost wanted her to look, wanted her to see Primo finger-fucking me, see me stroking him, see all the things she would never get to experience with him.

“The fuck we can’t,” Primo responded, voice tight as my thumb traced the head of his cock.

“Not until she…” I started to say, breaking off on a muffled whimper as his fingers started to tap against my G-spot.

“Cassidy, wrap it up and head out,” Primo called, and I was sure he could feel the smile on the lips I had pressed into his neck. My palm tightened around his cock even as my walls tightened around his fingers, something that made a growl move through him. “Actually, just head out now,” he called, tone dismissive.

There was an angry slamming in the kitchen along with no small amount of huffing and mumbling under her breath before I heard her moving toward the door, then slamming it hard for good measure.

The second she was gone, Primo was pulling his fingers out of me, then grabbing me with both hands, adjusting me up onto his lap before yanking up the skirt of my dress, and ripping off my panties in an impatient and primal move that had my belly fluttering.

“Ride me,” he demanded, fisting his cock and rubbing it roughly up and down between my lips, tapping against my clit, then holding it at the entrance to my body. “Fucking ride me, Isabella,” he growled, bucking upward even as I sank down on him, too far gone to even care about the consequences, just needing to feel him fill me, stretch me.

A low, long moan escaped me as my hips dropped down on his lap, taking a moment to feel him.

On an impatient grumble, Primo’s hands moved out, grabbing the already low neckline of my dress, and yanking it down, then pulling it down my arms for good measure, only leaving me dressed in the midsection. His hands went behind my back, working the clasps of my bra free, then pulling it off, and tossing it impatiently to the floor.

He sucked in a slow, deep breath that made his chest shake as his gaze landed on my chest that somehow felt heavier and heavier under his inspection.

I expected for his hands to reach out, to squeeze and tease.

But his arm closed around my back instead, holding my weight as he leaned me backward so he could lean in and suck one of my nipples into his mouth.

A surprised gasp escaped me as I arched up into his lips that were sucking hard for a moment before his teeth started to nip.

His free hand moved up, closing over my other breast, tracing my nipple, then rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

Impatient, needing relief from the clawing ache between my thighs, my hips started to rock against him. It was a small, barely-there movement, but his cock was positioned just right to stroke against my top wall, engaging my G-spot as my hips moved against him.

A groan moved through Primo, vibrating against my nipple before he was releasing it, going across my chest to continue the torment.

“Primo,” I whimpered as the frustration at the lack of movement grew by the second. “Primo, please,” I said, hands grabbing his shoulders, pushing until he moved to sit back against the cushions. “I need…” I started.

“This?” he asked, starting to piston his hips up into me.

Fast.

God, so fast.

“Yes, that,” I moaned, rolling my hips in circles as he continued to fuck me, driving me up toward that cliff faster than seemed possible. “I’m…” I started, voice catching on a groan.

“Come,” he demanded. “Come for me,” he continued. “I need to feel you squeeze my cock.”

His hips thrust.

Mine rolled.

And I just freaking shattered apart, a moan interrupted by the fact that it suddenly seemed impossible to draw in a breath as the waves crashed through my system again and again, dragged out as Primo kept thrusting through it.

“You feel so fucking good,” Primo growled as I fell forward into him, clinging to him as the last few hard spasms moved through me. “I’m not done, lamb,” he said, voice sounding something like a warning as his hands grabbed me and tossed me across the couch.

He grabbed my ankles, yanking my legs upward to rest against his chest, pinning them against him with his forearm as he surged inside me again.

Hard.

That was how he fucked me then.

Not fast and frantic.

Hard and controlled, taking every last inch of me with each powerful thrust.

His free hand moved down, pressing hard on my lower stomach, making me feel him even more intensely inside me as he fucked me.