Page 133 of I'm sorry, Princess

“I’m your man,” he rasps, his voice rough and ragged. “The one you think about when your fingers are between your thighs.”Thrust.“The only one who gets to fuck you.”Thrust. “The only one you belong to.”

And I fall apart.

He thrusts deeper, harder, his body pressed against mine as his mouth crashes over mine, devouring me. His lips are fevered, bruising, biting, desperate. His tonguemoves like he owns my breath, like he’s trying to claim every sound I make, and I lose myself in it.

My vision blurs as a wave of pleasure crashes through me, violent and all-consuming. I shudder, crying out into his mouth, my entire body trembling beneath the weight of what he’s doing to me.

“Lorenzo—” I choke on his name, breathless, wrecked. “I… I can’t—”

But he doesn’t stop.

He’s relentless, driving into me with a force that makes the world tilt. The pleasure crests again and I come undone, unraveling in his arms like a silk ribbon pulled tight until it frays. He coaxes every second of my orgasm, his hands still trailing down my waist, one circling my clit like he’s determined to feel me break apart all over again.

I gasp. My thighs are trembling. I’m utterly spent.

And yet he isn’t finished.

He lifts me effortlessly, turns me over, bending me onto the cool kitchen table. A sharp smack lands on my ass and I yelp, a mix of surprise and hunger. His fist grips my hair, tugging my head back so our eyes lock.

“Fuck, ” I cry, the breath stolen from my lungs as he fills me from behind, each stroke punishing and deep. His hand still tangled in my hair, the other gripping my waist like he’s anchoring me in place as he takes what’s already his.

“How many do I still owe you?” he growls darkly against my ear. His voice is rough silk, dangerous and addictive.

I can barely think, let alone speak. My body feels fevered, my heart racing as if I’ve run through a storm barefoot and burning.

Another rush of heat pulses through me and I collapse forward on my elbows, his name the only thing I remember how to say.

“Fuck,” he groans behind me, pushing harder. “One more, then.”

He spanks me again, my hips jolting. I swear I feel him everywhere, inside me, around me, under my skin. He pounds into me until I cry out, breaking apart for the second time, light bursting behind my eyes. My moans echo through the kitchen as he finishes with a low, guttural sound, warmth flooding me.

Then silence.

Heavy. Hot. Electric.

I feel his hands on my waist, gently turning me to face him. My skin is flushed, sticky, still pulsing with aftershocks. I reach for him, touching his face, his beautiful, infuriating, perfect face, and he looks down at me like I’m his entire world. His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth and I lean in, kissing him slow, tasting everything.

His lips part for me, and I take his tongue like it’s my first breath after drowning. We melt into each other, and I don’t even know where I end and he begins anymore.

He trails kisses down my jaw, my neck, lower, slow, reverent, like worship. My legs wrap instinctively around his waist, drawing him in, keeping him close.

He cups my breasts in both hands, reverent and firm, rolling my nipples between his fingers until I arch into his touch. The gentleness now is disarming. It’s a praise. A reward. His mouth follows, his tongue teasing, sucking, biting softly, driving every nerve in my body to attention.

I bury my fingers in his thick curls, tugging gently, grounding myself in him because I feel like I might float away.

His lips trail lower, down my stomach, kissing my inner thighs, soft, slow, deliberate. His breath ghosts over the sensitive place between my legs and I twitch beneath the heat of it, my pussy oversensitive, swollen, aching.

“Lorenzo...” I whisper, barely able to breathe his name as his lips graze the most sensitive part of me. The heat of his mouth, the slow, deliberate flick of his tongue, it’s almost too much. My body arches instinctively, craving more, needing more. His hands grip my thighs, anchoring me as his mouth explores me with devastating patience.

He pauses, lips hovering with maddening heat. “Give me one more, princess.”

My head drops back. “Oh my Gosh...” I moan, a shiver wracking through me as his mouth closes over me again, firm, unrelenting. One of my hands grips the edge of the table, the other threads through his hair, torn between pulling him closer and begging for mercy.

His touch is commanding, one hand pressed to my lower belly to hold me in place while the other moves with calculated precision, pushing me toward the edge I’ve already fallen over too many times today. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I’m spiraling.

He draws back just slightly, then surges forward again deeper, harder and I unravel. My body shakes beneath him, my voice breaking into a ragged cry as the pleasure tears through me like fire. I barely register the words he murmurs next, warm against my skin.

“Good girl.” He rises slowly, his mouth finding mine, and I taste myself on his lips raw, unfiltered. There’s something reverent about the way he kisses me, something devastatingly soft after how rough he just was. My fingers tremble against his jaw.