MAKEUP SEX IN MILAN

Lorenzoand I spent the next week in Milan. I spent the days at the museums while he attended meetings. I hardly saw him, but this morning he seemed frazzled and more on edge than he has been the entire week. A shopping trip was in order for new panties as ripping them apart appeared to be Enzo’s favorite past time. I never thought that a bigger girl could ever walk into a store like Gucci and actually find a size twenty-two. Alas what money can buy you. As I walked out of the storefront, I smoothed the merlot-colored silk of my long sleeve wrapped dress. My fingers grazing across the snug fit around my hips to the thigh-high slit. I fell in love with this designer dress and had to have it then and there. My thoughts wandering to Enzo’s face when he sees me in it. By far the most expensive dress I have ever boughten but rendering this man speechless will make the eight hundred dollars’ worth it. My gaze settled on all the people in the square in front of me. Going in and out of Gucci, Versace, Chanel, and Louis Vuitton in droves. I look up at the glass conservatory roof at the center of the Galleria Vittorio Emanuelle II. The natural light flooding over my face. A mall as a monument in its own right.

“Only in Milan,” I chuckle.

As I walked out of the Galleria and into the square of the Duomo, I am met with the warmth of the afternoon sun against my skin. Tourists took selfies around me while locals pushed strollers past me as they walked through the square and into the Galleria. Flocks of pigeons sat perched on the equestrian statue of Victor Emmanuel which garnered my attention until the sudden rev of a motorcycle engine stirred my concentration away. Enzo stood next to his red Ducati motorbike, and I swear in that moment I came just looking at him. His black and red Ducati jacket and black jeans were the sexiest thing I have seen him in thus far. His casual stance leaned against the bike brought an amused smile to my face. As I walk over to him, his lips beam into a full smile at me. He turns off the bike and rubbed his hands together before placing them to his lips and breathing deep into them. My fingers graze across his handlebars and down the red frame.

“You are here early,” I say.

“If I had only known you were wearing that dress I would have come picked you up earlier, amore,” Enzo says, handing her a helmet off the back of his seat.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“I have never been more sure of anything.”

Putting on the helmet over my head, my curls hanging down curiously from it. He straddles the bike and guides my hand over to him. My legs straddling the seat behind him as my hands graze across his chest.

“Hold on,” he says.

“Always,” I giggle, tightening my grasp around his hips as the Ducati roared to life.

The engine vibrated between my legs as the bike sped through the Duomo square. The bike gave me an indescribable physical and emotional pleasure. The odd numbing sensation that was unlike anything I ever felt before.

Maybe it was adrenaline. Maybe it was just him or us together. An addiction to one another that we desperately need a fix to. Was I in love or was I an addict?

As we rode on the street past several cars, I could hear muffled radios through their closed windows as the bike flew past them. My hands reached up into the sky as my hair blew in the wind as he drove quickly through traffic. The aggressive growl of the engine vibrated through my thighs as the warm breeze kissed my body. My hands went numb from the cold air before I wrapped my arms carefully around Enzo’s neck. I could feel his muscled body under my palms. My lips pressed against his neck as he looks out at the corner of his eye in my direction. I rested my head against his shoulder, my gaze distracted from his by the ocean meeting the setting sun. It’s orange and rose hues at its beginning phases of a Milan sunset. My thighs squeezed against his hips tighter as the bike turned a quick corner.

* * *

The bike slows downand pulls off onto a dirt road. It’s winding dirt path leading into a compact field of towering trees in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t the path leading to the villa we have been staying at.

“Where are we?” I ask, my brows knitted in confusion looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings around me.

He took his helmet off, ran his hand through his product-covered thick hair before dropping the helmet to the ground. I lifted my leg over and swirled around to push myself off the bike. I placed my helmet on the back of the bike before raking my fingers through my windswept hair.

“Get back on the bike,” he commands.

Raising my eyebrows in disbelief, “Excusa?”

He squeezed my cheeks with one large hand before plunging his tongue deep into my mouth like he owned it.

He owns me.

“I’m hard as a rock the second I saw you in that dress,” Enzo whispers.

“Someone might see us,” I say, my disbelieving glance at the clearing at the distance.

“Now who has a problem with watching?” he says, knocking down my helmet off the seat.

Fuck. He’s got me there.

“Stronzo,” I mutter.

“Lay on the seat,” he urges firmly.

I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t argue. I backed up next to the back of the bike before laying down on my back on the leather seat. My naked shoulders feeling the still warm gas tank against my skin. I braced myself on the bike by holding onto the rubber grips of the handlebars behind my head. He steps between my legs, pulling them apart to gain him easy access to me. Warm come already soaking my black lace thong. With a guttural groan he pushes the silk fabric of my dress up and over my hips. His finger hooks into the side of the black lace and pulls as my panties tear in half as he pulls them out from under me and over his shoulder.

“I just bought those.”

“I’ll buy you twenty in every color,” he says with a firm groan as his tongue grazes over his lips.

He pulls the silk dress down exposing my rounded breasts. His large hands squeezing my D cup breasts like a stress ball. I moaned as his teeth grazed across my nipple before putting it in his mouth and gently sucks while he unzips his fly with his other hand. His cock stiff out of the zipper of his jeans. The heat from the exhaust warming up my naked legs. I felt his stiffness graze across my thigh. His hands kneading my flesh like dough. My moan muffled through my bitten lips as a trail of saliva from Enzo’s mouth drips onto my clit. He entered slowly allowing me to expand to meet his size. Feeling my wetness as an invitation to my readiness he pulled out all the way before slamming back into me. His hips moving in circles outlining the walls of my insides before slamming deeper inside of me. Each movement more exaggerated and powerful as the next. Each movement pushing my entire body backwards on the seat. My knuckles turning white gripping on the handlebars behind my head. His hand reaches around my neck and pulls my body against him as he impales me quickly with a firm masculinity which commanded immediate attention. I could feel my orgasm building inside like a tidal wave. My subdued and quiet sighs of pleasure quickly turning into impassioned moans of ecstasy. His deep rhythm inside of me sent me spiraling to the depths of powerful orgasm as his fingers grip my hips roughly.

Tags: Brittany McMahan Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net