Sergio (Benedetti Brothers 3)

Again, he slides out a little, only to punish me with another thrust.

“Say it,” he demands, a threat in his tone. “Say it now. Tell me to stop, this is your chance. Save yourself.” He thrusts painfully and when I don’t say what he wants me to say, when he speaks again, there’s a violence to his words. “Tell me to fucking stop.”

I gasp, cling to him.

“You know who I am. What I do,” he continues.

It hurts, the wall at my back, his too thick cock driving into me, deeper and deeper, tearing me in two, tearing through to my core, piercing my heart.

“If you don’t tell me to stop now, I won’t. Not now. Not ever.”

He stops moving, and I’m impaled. He takes my jaw in his hand again, makes me look up at him.

“Say it now. Tell me to stop. Tell me to go. It’s your last chance.”

I shake my head as much as I can with him gripping my face. Fuck. I’m going to come. I’m so fucking close, I just need…just one more thrust.

He smiles. He’s got his answer. And that smile turns into a wicked grin a moment later.

“You want to come?” His voice is low, the words drawn out.

I make a sound, but I can’t say the word.

“Say it.”

I’m pressing against him, trying to grind against him. This isn’t me. But he does something to me. Makes me something different. Makes me someone I don’t recognize.

“Fucking say it.”

“Make me come. Please!” I want him, and I can’t get close enough. I want to be filled up by him. Possessed by him. Fucking owned by him.

“Good girl,” he says, kissing me, grinning wide, drawing farther out than before and thrusting so hard, I cry out. “Come, Natalie. Come on my dick. Come all over me.”

That’s all it takes, his command, his cock inside me, his eyes on me, watching me, seeing me, seeing me splinter and break. Seeing everything.

I squeeze my eyes shut and I come. I come so fucking hard I can’t breathe, I can’t think, and if he didn’t have me, I wouldn’t be able to stand. It’s like an explosion, orgasm claiming my body as Sergio claims my everything, and when I feel him come, when I feel him throb inside me, feel him release inside me, I open my eyes and I watch him, clinging to him, wanting him, wanting it all.

My hands wrap around his shoulders, nails digging into his shirt, his back and he’s coming inside me and I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight than Sergio’s glistening midnight eyes. Sergio lost in bliss. In ecstasy.I adjust the crotch of my panties, straighten my skirt.

“We should have used a condom,” I say, because in my head, I’m counting days.

“I like coming inside you. I like knowing part of me is inside you.” He zips and buttons his pants and buckles his belt.

“Sergio—”

“I’m clean, Natalie,” he says.

“I’m clean too, but there are other things.”

He seems surprised for the first time since I’ve known him. “You’re not protected?”

I shake my head.

“Where are you—”

“I should be okay.” I think. My period ended eight days ago. I still have a few days. “But we can’t do that again. I mean without a condom.”

He’s deep in thought, suddenly. Not angry, just concentrated. Like something’s just occurred to him. Something he’s never thought of before. It’s strange, the look in his eye. Unsettling.

“Our conversation isn’t over,” I say, simply to break into whatever is happening in his head.

“It’s not?”

“You can’t just hurt people in the name of protecting me.”

He walks into the kitchen. “That prick deserved to be punished.”

“That wasn’t up to you.” I follow him but he’s not paying attention to me. He’s opening a cabinet, taking out the coffee. “Sergio, I mean it.” He’s busy opening drawers, closing them, looking for a spoon, I assume. “Hey.” I pull on his arm, make him stop. He does, turns to me, walks me backward until he’s got me backed up against the refrigerator.

“Natalie.”

I’m looking up at him, at his dark eyes. I smell aftershave and sex.

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. This bastard isn’t important. We’re wasting words. Wasting time.”

I push against him. “This is too much. Too fast.”

He studies me but doesn’t reply. Doesn’t budge.

“You have a key to my house. You beat up my professor. For what? An internship I wouldn’t even take.”

“What do you mean you wouldn’t take?”

“I told you I didn’t want it. You didn’t think I’d work for him knowing what he’d expect, did you?”

“You withdrew willingly?”

“What would you do if I said no? That he disqualified me.”

“That fucking—” he’s suddenly so angry, that the shift in his mood is startling.

“See. This is what I mean! No, I withdrew. He wasn’t even there when I got to the office. But see what I mean? You can’t just beat up every guy who’s an idiot.”