Page 55 of Lourdes & the Mafia
Languid.
Desired.
Turned the fuck on?
A bit of everything.
“Do you feel hot, Amore?” he whispers. “Is your pussy dripping wet for me? Are you hot for me?”
“Y-Yes.”
He presses a kiss to the most sensitive part of my neck. Tracing his tongue against me. “Do you want my fingers in your cunt?”
Dios mio, this dirty talk…Sucio, filthy.
And I love every minute of it.
“Yes!” The word is yanked out of me, pulled by the force of my hungry pussy.
Pussy power.
Fuck yeah.
“I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of, Amore.”
Then he slips his fingers inside me. I jerk in his hold, and he slips his fingers deeper inside, curling them so he’s pressing tightly against my inner walls.
I whimper, canting my hips ever so slightly, moving with him.
“You take my fingers so good, Amore,” he praises, bending so his warm breath presses to the shell of my ear. “I wonder if you can take my cock just as good?”
“Yes!” My nails dig into the tops of his thighs, grasping for purchase as the water sloshes around us the more we move.
His fingers scissor inside of me, rubbing and curling, then pressing tighter inside until I feel him hit my G-spot.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Lorenzo…” I’m breathless, and the warning I’m about to utter dissipates as his thumb flicks over my clit, and that’s all it takes for me to detonate.
Every moment before had led us up to this. The massages, the fucking hair washing; it was nothing but a prelude to this main event. To the cresting. The high. The falling.
My body tenses above him before it convulses, pleasure wafting over the entirety of my being.
And his fingers don’t stop, even as I become mush in his arms, they still tease the pleasure out of me. They only stop when a sudden, surprising gush of warm liquid slips out of me.
Oh, coño…
His fingers are still inside of me. With his other hand, he grips my chin, forcing my head to the side so he’s looking into my eyes.
“Amore.” His eyes are wide with shock. “Did you just squirt?”
I want to bury my face in my hands. My mouth opens, but words don’t come to me. Not when I’m struck stupid from probably what feels like the best orgasm of my life and the fact that for the first time in my twenty nine years of living…. Isquirted.
“Oh, Amore…” He presses a tender kiss to my mouth. “All the filthy, fucking fun we’re going to have…”
“I—I—”
“You,” he interrupts, “are fuckingperfect.” He pulls his fingers out of me. “Now, let’s get up?”
