The Woman from the Past (Grassi Framily)

“I need you inside me,” I told him, smiling when I felt the rumble move through his chest, vibrating into mine.

We were moving then, soapy water sloshing over the sides of the tub onto the floor as Massimo got to his feet, pulling me with him, clinging as hard as I could thanks to our wet, slippery bodies.

He lowered me onto my feet as his lips crashed down on mine again.

His hands roamed then, down my back, over my ass, sinking in hard, and pulling me tighter against him, his hard cock pressing against my stomach.

I was urged backward then until my lower half slammed against the sink vanity.

One of Massimo’s hands left me, shooting out the side, and there was a clattering of things scattering while he searched for something.

He came back with a condom, taking a second to slip it on, then reaching for my knee, dragging it up, and spreading it wide, pinning it against the cabinet as he moved between my thighs and slammed inside me.

“Fuck,” he growled as a soft moan escaped me. “You feel so fucking good,” he added as he started to fuck me.

It shouldn’t have been possible to be driven to the brink so quickly, but I guess the adrenaline and fear and uncertainty and relief created a sort of chaos in my system, making the orgasm build then slam through my system.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, not slowing or stopping, working me through it.

Only then did he slip out of me, hands reaching out, turning me to face the mirror, pressing my hands to the vanity, then slamming back inside me, my whole body jerking hard at the impact.

One of his hands sank into my hip, keeping me from knocking into the vanity with his hard thrusts. The other went to my shoulder, keeping me upright when I might have folded down.

“I want to look at you,” he said, watching me in the reflection. “Touch yourself for me,” he demanded.

I didn’t even hesitate.

My hand went between my thighs, working my clit, as he fucked me harder and harder, driving me up once again.

“There. Come for me,” he hissed as my walls tightened around his cock. “Fuck, yeah, just like that,” he growled as the orgasm slammed through me, his name crying from between my lips.

He fucked me through before slamming deep and cursing out his release.

His low chuckle snapped me back to the present, making my eyes open to land on his in the mirror.

“Someday, we have to end up in a bed,” he said, smirking as he slid out of me.

“Bed sounds good,” I agreed.

Orgasms sated, the exhaustion was steadily setting in.

“We can—“ Massimo started as he grabbed towels, cutting off when there was a knocking at the door. “It’s okay. It’s probably Nino,” he told me, handing me the towel, then quickly drying himself off. “Take your time,” he said as he yanked on his pants, then grabbed his shirt. “Put on the robe. I will find something else for you later,” he added, going toward the door, then turning back, grabbing the back of my neck, and pulling me in for a quick, hard, thorough kiss, then making his way out of the bathroom.

Alone, I dried off, then wrapped the towel around my body, and leaned back against the vanity, taking a few deep breaths, trying to bring some order back to my body and mind.

Outside the door, I could hear muffled masculine voices. And since no one sounded overly animated or concerned, I let myself continue to have faith that everything was okay, that nothing else terrible had happened.

Turning, I looked at myself in the mirror without sex-clouded eyes, seeing the bruises and the scratches.

Not pretty, but not awful.

Grabbing one of the washcloths, I cleaned myself up the best I could. It was then, as I was putting the washcloth down, that I saw the scattered remnants of Massimo’s toiletry bag.

Including a pair of scissors.

“I prefer it like this.”

Those were the words Colin had said to me when I’d told the hairdresser once that I wanted to take some length off my hair since it had been the exact same since I’d been a teenager.