Page 11 of Own Me

"Imagine my cock owning your pussy, Penelope. And I'm not going to lie—-I'm fucking bigger than most men."

The words are a trap, and I know it.

But even so.

I still end up doing what he wants me to do, with my body trembling violently as my gaze slowly drifts past his chest...until I find myself staring at the impossibly huge bulge behind his jeans.

Holy...shitty...cow.

If it were anyone else, I'd be tempted to think what I'm seeing includes several inches' worth of padding.

But because this is Cesare Marchetti and his, um, package I'm gaping at...

I know it can only be real, and it has my breasts aching and swelling like they've never done in the past.

"Do you remember what I told you earlier,tesoro?" The lust coating his whispered words makes my womanly folds start to throb with forbidden heat.

"Our marriage is not a one-way street of ownership. Just as I own every inch of you, all of me is also yours,tesoro...and that includes all fourteen inches of my cock."

Did he just sayfourteeninches?

My gaze jerks up to his...and a gasp escapes me when I realize that all this time Cesare has been talking, he's also been busy devouring my flesh with his gaze...with my nipples all shamefully puckered up against my dress.

Shit!

I'm about to cross my arms over my chest when we hear the nervous intrusion of another woman's voice.

"SignorMarchetti?"

Cesare turns his back to me, and I nearly sag in relief.

Phew.

The maid says something about supper being served in the Blue Room, and I listen vaguely to the two of them talk while hurriedly gulping air back into my lungs. I honestly didn't even realize I was holding my breath the entire time he was speaking. It's as if the darkly inviting sound of Cesare's voice had me under a spell, and every word he's silkily let slip is a new layer of seductive entrapment.

You can't let him get to you like that again, dude!

My head starts to hurt as I try to mentally regroup. I can't believe it was just hours ago when I was so desperately starving...that I had seriously planned to mug a (seemingly but not really) defenseless old woman.

That was justhoursago, for heaven's sake, but here I am now, feeling a shamefully different kind of hunger, and all because Cesare Marchetti said 'cock' and 'pussy' in the same breath.

C'mon, dude!

I grit my teeth and tell myself I'll do better, but as soon as Cesare turns to face me again, my body betrays me anew, and my pussy starts getting wet like it's turned into his personal faucet of desire.

Shiiiiiiit!

"You're blushing, my Penelope."

I wish I could say he needs to have his eyes checked, but I can't. The heat burning my cheeks is impossible to deny, and him calling mehisPenelope only makes me blush even harder.

How in the world have we gotten to this point?We were supposed to have a serious discussion about what our marriagemaybe like,ifit pushes through, but the only thing that the past few minutes has made clear is how my wildly wanton body is not to be trusted at all.

"Would you like to tell me why?"

Never.

"Or perhaps you'd prefer I make a guess," he teases.

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