An Italian flag on his middle finger.
A skull on his index finger.
“I didn’t realize you had so many tattoos.”
“Is it illegal, Amelia?” He asks in a hushed whisper.
I become painfully aware how close I am to him. His cologne invading my every fiber. The heat from his breath on my skin, sends chills down my spine. I grab the handcuffs from my belt, flipping open the mechanism. I push him backwards into the chair behind him.
“I warned you. Put your hands behind your back.”
He placed his hands behind him at the back of the chair. Clutching his fingers together, I clasped the handcuffs around his wrist.
“You want me.” I say matter-of-factly.
“I do,” Lorenzo agrees.
I run my hand along the outline of the bulge in his lap. Him getting harder by the second.
“You are just a stamp on my passport.”
“After I am inside of you, you won’t want anyone else.”
“You really believe you are God’s gift to women,” I scoff.
“I am God’s gift to you,” his Cheshire grin beaming.
I bent down, placing each hand on the side of the chair in front of him. My breasts nearly falling out of my outfit.
“I don’t think so, Enzo,” I say, releasing a breath of disbelief.
His face goes stoic, and his body stiffens. A look of irritation flashes across his face.
“Amelia, you call me Enzo one more time,” he growls.
“That’s your name, isn’t it? Enzo,” I state.
“Lorenzo.”
“Enzo,” I whisper.
“I can’t promise my cock won’t be addicted to you,” he whispers.
“I can’t promise I’m not a drug,” I whisper back.
I unbutton his shirt slowly, his fierce gaze never leaving mine. His broad chest surprisingly clear of tattoos. His perfectly thick muscled body like a bronze Italian statue. I teased a finger through the happy trail of hair leading down. His back arches and releases a shuddering deep breath. I turn around and sit in his lap. His rock-hard bulge rubbing against my backside. I toss my hair to one side and lay my neck next to his cheek. The gruff hair of his beard grazes against my jaw, sending shivers down my spine.
Oh shit, I want this. I want this desperately.
I push myself from him in the chair and turn to face him. He shakes his head, his teeth grazing over his lower lip. I have never felt so powerful knowing I have the power to illicit such a reaction to this man. I slid the uniform down past my ankles, kicking it off to the side. I cupped my breasts in my hands. Seeing the look of pure desire on his face sent my core ablaze with want.
“Fuck, your tits are just as amazing I thought they would be,” he says, pursing his lips and releasing a soft breath.
“To bad you can’t feel them, kiss them,” I say softly.
I leaned over him in the chair, my breasts pressed against his bare chest. He groans in frustrated pleasure. I meet his intense gaze and unzip his fly, reaching in and letting his cock free from his confined trousers. I settle on my knees, opening my lips to take his well above average cock in my mouth. Instead running my tongue along the crown. Tasting him.
“Fuck,” he breathes.
“You can’t touch me. You can’t feel me. You can’t kiss me. You can’t taste me,” I say in a hushed, seductive tone.
I have never felt seductive or a temptress, but in this moment of teasing I felt powerful. His attraction to me I was in control of. His want of me was restrained. Wetness trailed down my thigh. My insides yearning for this man to be inside of me. As much as the control was sexy, I wanted him to take control. I needed him to take control.
“You can’t fuck me. I’ll have to take care of myself,” I say shrugging indifferently.
The loudest guttural groan I have heard escapes from deep within his throat. He pulls his hands apart, breaking the cheap handcuff chain in half. He has me pushed against the brown leather lounger next to the bed before I can comprehend. I lost control. His need for me overpowering and I couldn’t fucking wait.
“Open your legs,” Lorenzo orders roughly.
I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of his deeper voice.
Commanding.
Bossy.
Sexy.
He grabbed my thighs roughly and rammed his cock inside of me without a second thought. My legs widen to allow him in further as he thrusts deeper with each movement.
“Enzo,” I breathe.