can be skipped

FRANCESCA

“Place your hands on the headboard,” he instructs, his voice a deep, husky whisper. His hair falls onto his forehead in a sexy, disheveled way, and his eyes darken noticeably.

I let out a quiet breath, doing as he asks. I lean back on the king-sized bed, my hands behind my head, gripping the wood. I have a feeling I’m going to need something to hold on to.

My husband parts my legs and settles between them, bending my knees so I can cage him. I want to savor these moments because I know they won’t happen often.

Every moment with him is blissful, like a dream come true. It gives me hope for something more.

I’m not sure whether I should be glad that I’m wearing lace panties under my nightwear lingerie or not, especially since I can see the teasing look on his face. He’s in the mood for a game.

My grip on the headboard tightens as his hands land on my thighs, slowly making their way up. His dark eyes never leave mine as his fingers rub against my inner thighs, making my core clench.

He holds my legs open before his hands skillfully tease me by rubbing around my core, never once breaking eye contact.

His fingers touch the edge of my panties before pushing his hands further up my thighs and under my sheer clothing, making me breathe out shakily. I want him. No, I need him.

“Antonio,” I manage to say, my breath short.

His gaze wanders up to my lips before they fall on my cleavage. I throw my head back as his finger traces a path over my slit on top of my panties. A gasp escapes my lips at the sudden sensation.

I’m already sensitive from before, which makes the throbbing almost pleasurably painful. I’m literally pulsing and desperate for release, and from the large tent in his sweatpants, it looks like he is too.

He runs another finger down my slit, but harder this time, making my face contort at the sudden tingles. He then rubs his fingers around my warmth without fully touching it.

I try to move but to no avail. He pauses his fingers every time I shift.

“Don’t move, sweetheart. You don’t want me to stop, do you?” His voice is clouded with pleasure. He enjoys knowing that he has complete control over my body and he enjoys teasing.

I groan when he stops for a moment. “Anton—!” I yell when he suddenly crams two fingers inside, filling me completely.

I don’t even have time to be embarrassed as he rapidly starts rubbing my walls and my inner set of lips.

His thumb finds my clit and presses onto it—softly at first but then harshly—making me whimper as tears form in my eyes. It’s all just too intense.

My core pulses around his fingers, hoping to find some release. He brings me to the brink and just as I’m about to come he stops.

“Don’t come.” He dominates me and presses down on my clit when I don’t reply, making me jump.

“Okay. Yes,” I rush out. I just want some release but he has other plans.

I cry out when he pulls his fingers out. I almost let go of the headboard but stop when I see the warning look on his face.

He likes me tied up and at his mercy, but he hasn’t tied me up. He wants me to feel like I belong to him without any force. I don’t really mind. I like being submissive to him in bed.

I sit in front of him with my legs wide open and my core dripping wet and bare. My red nightwear still covers my body, but barely.

It shows a lot of my cleavage and the sides of my waist. I’m not particularly ashamed, because he’s the only one seeing me and the large tent in his sweatpants tells me he likes what he sees.

Suddenly feeling bold, I spread my legs a bit wider and bend them even further to allow myself to be more exposed.

I quickly pull my nightie off as seductively as I can before placing my hands back on the board. From his raised eyebrows and the small smirk playing on his lips, I know he knows what I’m doing.

I’m seducing him and it’s working. Better than I thought it would, actually.

He grabs my legs and pulls me down from my sitting position. My hands leave the headboard and immediately wrap around his neck as he leans toward me.

His forehead touches mine and my legs wrap around his waist. The moment feels private and more than just intense. It’s delicate, like it could break at any moment.

Just like that, I forget about the throbbing between my thighs and only focus on him, like he’s doing with me. He tilts his head to the side, making his lips hover over mine.

I wait for him to kiss me and gradually he does. His lips mold to mine softly before he pushes me down harder on the bed and thrusts his pelvis onto me.

I moan at the feeling. I can feel him under his clothing, grinding into me.

I feel him move a hand away from the side of my head before I hear him shuffle his pants down, but I don’t bother to check. Using my hands, I try to pull him as close as possible.

I need him. I need the heat he provides.

A blunt tip pushes slightly inside me, making me jerk back and break away from the kiss. His cheeks are flushed as he lets out ragged breaths just like me.

I quickly realize that it’s not his finger but rather his member poking me. His eyes meet mine and I give him a silent nod, hoping that he’s asking for my permission.

If not, then I really don’t have time to be embarrassed.

He doesn’t waste a second before sharply thrusting into me. My eyes close as I moan with him. The knot in my stomach grows rapidly again as his body rocks against mine.

I thrust my hips up to meet his and he pushes my legs up a bit, hitting me deeper than before. My legs convulse sharply as I feel like I’m being ripped in half.

The stinging sensation soon fades into pleasure. He grunts as he toys with one of my breasts before bringing his lips down on it. I’m at his mercy and I don’t regret it one bit.

I know he can tell I’m on the brink of coming from how I clench against him. He doesn’t bother telling me to stop. Instead he just starts rubbing my clit, and I come—without his permission.

He realizes it, just like he always does, but he doesn’t say anything. He just keeps moving inside me, riding the waves of my climax. I bite back a groan when his hand tightens on my hips, filling me completely.

I can feel him against my stomach. His body collapses on top of mine as he reaches his own peak, burying his face in the crook of my neck and shoulder. He doesn’t bother to pull out.

He just rests there, on top of me.

After a moment, he catches his breath and rolls off me. I feel empty, but I know I can’t take any more. I’m exhausted and all I want is to sleep.

From past experiences, I know Antonio isn’t one for post-coital conversation. He usually just rolls to the side, turning his back to me. He’s not one for cuddling.

Just as I’m about to drift off, his fingers plunge into my still-sensitive warmth. My body jerks in surprise, but he holds me down, quickening his pace.

I moan as my body rocks against his fingers. My breath comes in ragged gasps and I feel that familiar knot in my stomach start to tighten again.

He doesn’t stop when I climax again. It’s like he’s torturing me on purpose.

“Antonio,” I groan. “S-stop, I d-don’t think I c-can.” But I don’t push him away.

Instead, I grab his shoulders and pull him closer, his one hand holding my hips down while the other continues to stroke me.

Finally, after my third climax, he stops. I bite his shoulder, moaning at the sharp sensations coursing through me. I can practically see stars.

I love the pleasure he gives me, but there’s only so much I can handle. And my husband knows that. He’s just doing this because I defied him and came before he gave me permission.

Breathless, I close my eyes, feeling someone gently stroking my hair. He presses a soft kiss to my forehead.

“Go to sleep, ~la mia bambola~. You’ll need it,” are the last words I hear before sleep claims me. But the smile never leaves my face as his arm wraps around my waist, holding me close for the first time.