I nod and bite down on my bottom lip, trying desperately to hold off. I can’t speak, I can barely breathe. My breaths are coming in shallow pants and my fingers are shaking as they rub my clit.
“Come for me, gattina,” he murmurs, his eyes drop back down to my pussy.
I let out a small cry as my orgasm hits me. My pussy convulses against my fingers, clenching down on nothing and practically begging for Dom’s cock. My clit throbs with pleasure and my eyes close, my head falling back. My fingers never slow or stop, drawing out my pleasure for as long as possible. As the intensity becomes too much, almost painful, I slow my fingers and then stop. I take a deep breath, recovering slowly.
My eyes shoot open as Dom’s warm hand grabs my wrist. I look at him and find him standing over me. He moves my hands away from my pussy and then presses the head of his cock against my folds. He rubs it up and down to get it wet and then shoves himself inside me in a hard thrust.
I have to support my weight on both hands to keep myself up. He grabs my thighs and holds me in place as he fucks me on his desk. My butt is lifted up with each thrust, balanced precariously on the edge. Luckily, my palms are sticky, meaning my hands don’t slip out from under me on the surface of the desk.
I clench around him and Dom grunts. He pistons his hips back and forth, sliding in and out of me in smooth strokes. His jaw clenches and he increases his pace, trying to coax another orgasm from me.
It doesn’t take long for the pleasure to build. Dom reaches between us and starts rubbing my clit with his thumb. The stimulation is all I need for me to fall over the edge -metaphorically, not literally.
“Dom!” I moan his name as I climax around his cock.
He looks down between, watching his cock disappear inside me with each stroke.
“You’re so wet when you come, gattina,” he says huskily. “I’m covered in your juices. Your juicy pussy is making my cock shine. It’s dripping down my balls, I can feel it. So wet for me.”
The dirty words only add to my pleasure and my orgasm is dragged out, knocking me breathless with its intensity. My hands give out and I lay back on the desk. Dom pulls out of me without warning, and I whimper at the loss. He grabs my hips and flips me over, so that I am lying on my front. He lines himself up and enters me in one thrust from behind.
He grabs my wrists and pulls my arms behind my back. He straightens them and pulls, lifting my upper body off the desk. Holding on tightly to my wrists, he fucks me ruthlessly. He pounds into me, shaking both my body and the desk. It’s too much for me to take. Tears of overwhelming emotion run down my face and another orgasm rips through me. My body trembles and Dom grunts behind me.
“Fuck, gattina,” he curses. “When you squeeze my cock like that...shit, I’m coming, fuck, Alejandra, don’t stop, so tight, fuck!”
His words come out in a husky ramble. I take everything him gives me, loving the feel of his cock pulsing inside my pussy as he releases his come. He rests against my back, pinning me to the desk. He releases my wrists and I bring my arms forward, feeling my muscles protest. We stay like that for a while, trying to catch our breath.
After the desk session, I go upstairs to clean up and Dom returns to work. At lunch, he thanks me for helping him take a break and apparently, he was very productive after I left.
In the afternoon, I contact my restaurants and check that everything is going okay without me. With that done, I lay by the pool and sunbathe. I don’t remember the last time I went on holiday; this is such a treat. The sore yet sated feeling between my thighs is certainly a treat, too.
In the evening, Domenico and I go into town and eat lobster on a yacht that he has hired for the evening. In the interest of my life not becoming 365 DNI completely, we don’t have sex on the yacht. Maybe one day we will recreate that boat scene, but I’d rather make our own story.
When we return to the villa, Dom leads me back to his room again. I think he gave me my own room as a pretence to make me feel comfortable. He never intended on letting me sleep in it alone, I think. It is day four the following morning. I take a shower and stand in front of my wardrobe, wondering what to wear.
I’ve just finished putting on a playsuit when there is a knock at the door. I open it up and let in Noemi, the maid. I apply some mascara and put in pretty gold earrings. I turn around and catch Noemi looking at me with a thoughtful expression.
“Is everything okay?” I ask her.
She blushes, her cheeks turning rosy, pink. “I’m sorry, Signora, it’s just...I’m very happy that you’re here.”
Now, it’s my turn to blush. “Why is that?” I ask cautiously.
She looks anxiously at the door, which is closed, and then takes a step towards me. She leans forwards and speaks in a hushed tone, as though someone might hear us.
“Signor Lencioni, he never lets anyone stay in his bed,” she tells me. “He hasn’t had a woman for dinner in very long time, I was worried. But he bring you, and you stay in his bed, not this one. That makes me happy.”
I study the woman’s face, wondering what on Earth I say to that.
“Oh, okay,” I reply dumbly. “Good.”
She smiles and nods. “I’ll go, now. Have a good day, Signora.”
“You too, Noemi. Thank you.”
She leaves the room, and my thoughts turn to Domenico. I shouldn’t read anything into that, should I?
I meet Dom in the foyer downstairs. He takes me out to do ‘toursity things’. We drive to Pozzuoli and visit the cave of the Sibyl. After lunch, we go to the beach. It’s your stereotypical, perfect beach. White sand, blue seas, hot sun. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
I realise pretty quickly that it is an exclusive beach. There are no families or children. It is adults only and Dom had to show a membership badge to get in. We are given two rather expensive-looking sun-loungers.
Three of Dom’s bodyguards remain at the top of the beach. Dressed in light clothes, they sit down and order drinks. They must like it when their boss chooses to go out.
There are women everywhere without their tops on. After weeks of sunbathing with my bikini on back in England and a couple days of doing it here, I wonder if I should take mine off.
I start slowly. When Dom and I get comfortable on our loungers, I undo the top knot at the back of my neck so that I won’t get lines from the strings. I pull the triangles of the bikinis down until they only just cover my areolas.
“Don’t pull that top any fucking lower, or I will be forced to shoot somebody,” Dom warns gruffly.
My eyes snap to him, to find him glaring at me, a heated look in his eyes. I pout at him. “But other women don’t have tops on! None of them men do, either.”
Dom narrows his dark eyes at me. “I don’t want these horny people ogling your body, Alejandra,” he says warningly. “I told you that I do not share. I meant it.”
“It’s not sharing,” I reply, rolling my eyes.
I regret the eye-roll pretty quickly. The intensity in his eyes is a little scary.
“It is. They are looking at you. They are seeing things that are meant only for my eyes,” he tells me, sounding hurt as well as pissed off. “You can wear revealing and tight clothes, as long as the important places are covered. I’m not sharing your most intimate areas with other men.”
Seemingly deciding that that is the end of the discussion, he lays back and puts his sunglasses on. I pout some more but leave my top as it is.