“Oh, I’m going to, mia passerotta. I’m going to fill you up and fuck you hard. But I don’t want you to come until I say so, si?” he explains, keeping his tone even-keeled even though I can hear that husky need in his voice.
“Whatever you say,” I answer, grinding back against him. I’m a little scared that I won’t be able to hold on— I’m already so close. He has me dangling over the edge, and I just know that the second his cock is inside of me, I’ll be a goner.
And then, it happens. He grabs my hips and pushes his cock deep inside me, penetrating me to the hilt. I can feel my pussy clenching around him and I cry out, grabbing for the pillow to hold myself steady. I’m trying so hard to keep myself from coming. I want to do what he told me to do.
“Don’t come yet, baby,” he says, even as his hips start to move and his cock slides in and out of me while he reaches around my thigh to gently rub my clit with his finger. By now, I’m an incoherent mess. Every last thread of my focus is centered on not giving in, not climaxing. But it’s so hard.
“Oh God,” I groan as he starts to fuck me deeper, but slower. “Bruno, I-I’m gonna come, I can’t take it. It feels so fucking good!”
“Yeah? You want to come for me, sweetheart? You want to come all over my cock?” he teases me, circling my clit with his finger and sending shockwaves of unbearable pleasure through me.
“Please, oh fuck,” I whimper. He slaps my ass again, hard.
“You want me to fuck you harder, Serena?” he asks.
“I need it, I need you,” I answer breathlessly. I’m hanging on by a mere thread. “Please!”
And with that, he starts to thrust harder, his cock hammering at my g-spot while his finger works my clit, fucking me hard and fast. “Are you ready? I know you want to come.”
“Oh God! Please, I need it!” I cry out, my fingers twisting in the sheets.
“Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock. Now.”
Instantly, my body seizes up in an overwhelming rush of pleasure. Wave after wave of electric bliss rolls over me and I let out an involuntary shriek, feeling my pussy pulsing intensely around his cock. Bruno doesn’t let up for even a second, fucking me harder and faster until I’m coming again and again, lost in a sea of extreme pleasure.
“Good girl, very good,” he groans, and I can tell he’s gritting his teeth, trying so hard to keep his own climax in check. I decide to take business into my own hands. He’s not the only one who can play at this game. I begin to roll my hips back, impaling myself on his cock hard and fast, clenching as tightly as I can.
“It’s. Your. Turn,” I manage to mumble, and I can tell by his increasingly erratic thrusts that he’s about to blow. He’s almost there. The fact that I have this power to make this beautiful, amazing man feel so good is intoxicating.
“Fuck, Serena,” Bruno groans. “Just like that.”
He thrusts a few more times quickly and sharply and then holds me still, his fingertips digging into my hips as he shoots his thick honey deep inside me. His deep voice thrums through my body as he cries out, and he shudders through his orgasm.
We’re both still panting as I feel him lean forward to kiss a gentle line up the arch of my back before withdrawing. We fall on our backs side by side, and his hand finds mine underneath the tangle of sheets. I look over at him, beaming uncontrollably, to see an identical look of bliss on his face. Warmth. Everything about Bruno is comfortable. Everything about him feels like home.
“Well, that was definitely worth being late to work for,” I laugh, turning over to get my phone from the nightstand. The battery is nearly dead, as I forgot to bring my charger last night, but it can still show me the time. Nine-thirty-eight, and then my phone dies.
“Shit,” I mumble, wriggling out of bed and whipping Bruno’s huge t-shirt off. I hop into the bathroom, pulling on my socks which I’m pretty sure are inside out, but that’s a problem for future me to sort out. “I don’t have clean clothes!” I call out, staring around the bathroom in a mild panic.
Bruno comes shuffling in behind me, totally naked and unreserved. He wraps his arms around me and presses a kiss to my cheek. “You can borrow one of my shirts again.”
“Uh-huh, and it’ll look like I’m a grifter who just wandered into the shop one day,” I giggle, rolling my eyes. Then, I get an idea. “Actually, could you bring me your biggest, longest, most stretched-out shirt?”
Bruno gives me a skeptical smirk but nods. “I feel like that’s the opposite of what you’d want, but your wish is my command.” He steps into the walk-in closet attached to the bathroom suite and starts poring through his surprisingly meticulous wardrobe.
“Any luck?” I ask, reluctantly slipping back into yesterday’s bra, panties, and leggings. I can’t just walk into the shop wearing the same dress as yesterday. Too obvious. Even if nobody else notices, I would still feel icky all day.
“Uhh, how do you feel about, um, vintage?” Bruno says, making me laugh.
“How vintage?”
“Let’s just say I had to dig back through my sort of nostalgic section of clothing for this one,” he explains, giving me an apologetic shrug. “All my clothing from recent years has been tailored. I have a guy. So there’s not a lot of wildly oversized stuff in here anymore.”
I hold my hand out. “Alright. Just give it to me. Let’s see.”
He hesitantly hands over a faded, well-worn gray t-shirt with some kind of brand logo that has nearly been washed blank by the years. It’s a little threadbare, but it will do. I tug it on, then knot the hem at one hip so that it falls almost like a stretched-out, slightly off-kilter shift dress.
Bruno laughs. “Wow. That is real ingenuity.”
“Shut up,” I giggle, swatting at him playfully. “Well, no time to really do my makeup now.”
“Can you do it in the car?”
I raise an eyebrow. “While driving? No, I value my life just a little more than that.”
“As a passenger, of course. I’m driving you to work,” he says, matter-of-factly.
“You sure? I could always get a cab.”
“I’m going to work with you anyway, so we might as well carpool. Save the earth and all that,” he adds, emerging from the walk-in closet again, this time fully dressed and looking like a million bucks. He’s only wearing a white button-down, black pants, and gray blazer, but he looks like some kind of secret agent about to crack a case or steal a diamond or something.
“Wow, way to show me up,” I comment, crossing my arms and eyeing him up and down.