Page 52 of Pretty Plaything

And then he shoves himself inside me.

A brief moment of pain is quickly replaced by a completely new sensation of him stretching and filling me.

He watches me carefully, but before I can adjust to the feeling of having him inside me, he pulls out, only to slam himself back inside all the way in.

I cry out as he thrusts against me, his hands gripping my wrists. So much more pleasure surges through me as he pumps into me, plunging deep inside me.

“Alessandro,” I whisper without wanting to.

He smiles at me and flips me over onto my stomach. His hand holds my wrists captive against the small of my back as he rams himself into me, going even deeper than I thought possible.

My moans grow louder and louder, and I shatter around him, my release wiping out every other sensation or thought. He pulls out of me, leaving me feeling strangely empty.

I tense when I feel his finger probing my back entrance, spreading something cold and wet over my skin.

His finger slips into my tight passage, moving in and out.

“Relax,” he says.

The next thing I feel is the tip of his cock pressing against my tight hole.

No. He can’t just—

He distracts me as he rubs my clit, and I can feel my muscles relaxing. His thick length pushes harder against my opening.

There’s no way he can fit—

Slowly, he slips inside, inch by inch, and I cry out as I stretch around him. My discomfort disappears as he starts moving, my insides tingling with need again.

The feeling is different, but I think I like it, especially when his fingers find my clit. His powerful thrusts become faster and harder, and his strong body pressing against mine takes my pleasure to its peak.

A loud moan tears its way out of my throat as my orgasm rocks my whole body. Alessandro grunts and groans, shoving his throbbing length inside me once again.

As pleasure courses through every inch of my body, I can’t stop thinking about Alessandro.

Why him?

Why can someone I hate so much make me feel so damn good?

How is that even possible?

He slips out of me, his breathing ragged. For a few moments, his body envelops mine like a blanket, not letting me go.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, his lips brushing my hair.

I groan because I don’t think I can walk right now. Maybe not even stand up.

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his embrace.

It looks like he has a solution for everything.

I wind my arm around his neck as he carries me to the bathroom.

This feels strangely nice.

I could get used to it, even if my brain tells me that would be a huge mistake.

But why shouldn’t I just enjoy the sex, even if there will never be anything more between us?