Tangled In Strings

Chapter Two

I resist covering myself up at his stillness. "Giovanni."

"I need to know you're okay."

"Does it matter? I need you," I reply with quickness. After the few seconds he takes to let that sink in, he shakes his head.

"No, I guess it doesn't."

Despite my demand for closeness, when he finally does move, my breath catches, my back flattening against the window. Goosebumps cover my flesh at the coolness of the glass, and I welcome the feeling of familiar ground.

A dominant Giovanni is the man I know best. The other forms of him I'm still learning. I think it will be a very long time until I understand them. Seconds ago, I held the upper hand. I've just handed it over.

He stops just inches from my face, looking down at me, and I'm unable to read him. I have no idea what he's thinking. We're painstakingly off-balance. The only relief I feel so far is that his cock is hard between our bodies, which means he's restraining himself from touching me.

Why he is... I have no idea.

"Please."

He still doesn't move. I search his face wildly, my chest suffocating tight.

At his hesitance, I react with impulse. My hand shoots out, cupping the bulge through his pants. He sucks in a breath as I grow frustrated, taking it out on him. I drop down, my kneecaps aching from the impact against the marbled ground.

I grab onto his waistband.

"I thought I was in control." There's a disapproving undertone to his voice, laced with an edge.

"You took too long," I bite back, pulling the material down, pleased when his cock springs free to my greedy gaze, a perfect mass of silky flesh. My mood lightens considerably as my eyes note how stiff he is before I've even touched him, how the aching veins of resistance protrude from his virility. His head is swollen, begging for a mouth to relieve the tension building within.

Mouth watering, my hands both grab ahold of his ass, urging him to me. He pants a low moan of surprise as I take him as deeply as I can, quickly reminded of how well-endowed this man actually is. I suction my lips around him, dragging my tongue along the skin, and his salty, overwhelmingly male taste sends shocks straight down my body, zoning in like a target to the vortex already pooling between my thighs. I give it my all, driven wild by the choked gasps he's releasing. My head bobs, and one of my hands comes around to cup and massage his weighty balls, to which I'm rewarded by a hand that is suddenly in my hair, grasping onto my locks with a newfound passion.

I'm unraveling him.

"Fucking hell, Scarlett," he breathes as my mouth focuses on the wide crown with an unhealthy carnality, desperate to please him. His grip on my hair is actually painful as I feel him begin to swell in my warm trap, but I push past the discomfort, too caught up in his breathless praises. He towers like an almighty force above me, his chest heaving like a man running a marathon.

"Scarlett. Stop. I'm going to come."

I hum, wanting exactly that, and the vibration sends him straight into his orgasm. I hear the impact of his hands against the glass above my head and a sharp hiss when the first thick spurt of semen hits the back of my throat. I drink him in with unfailing eagerness, not wanting to waste one ounce of him.

I feel his ass muscles harden, clenching beneath my hands as he flinches at my suctioning. I gasp loudly, dizzy as my mouth pulls back from his penis, and my flushed forehead presses into the soft pale skin of his inner thigh. My sex tightens, turned on by the way his body is shivering in the aftershocks of an orgasm, the scent of arousal mixing in the air between us.