Page 74 of The Crowned Garza

Soft lips drizzle kisses along my neck and my breath catches as heat explodes from my core, permeating. “You could be a good girl for me, too, you know?”

Eh. Doesn’t sound fun.“And you’ll reward me with what I want?”

“Let’s see how you do at being good first.” He spins me around to face him and swipes his tongue across my lips. “Così bella...”Gripping the hem of my crop top, he pulls it up and off me, leaving my breasts bare and heavy. “Così perfetta.”

“Saint...” I breathe when he cups my breasts in his large hands, rubbing and petting, spiking my heart rate.

Lowering his head, he swirls his tongue around my nipple before he ever so gently tugs on it with his teeth.

A moan catches in my throat as my head falls back.

He lavishes my breasts with attention until I’m so riled up I’m rubbing my thighs together and thrusting my hips forward, chasing friction.

“Saint... I want—”

“I don’t care what you want. You are being good formenow,regalità.”

Biting my lip to quell my natural urge to defy, I nod. “What do you w-want?”

His eyes blaze like whiskey on fire. “Kneel for me,bellisima.”

Slowly, I kneel.

He tugs down his lounge pants until his cock is free. Hard and venous.Gorgeous. Palming himself, he brushes the head of his cock back and forth across my lips, staining them with pre-cum. “Will you be good and let me fuck this pretty mouth,bella ragazza?”

I nod.

“Open up for me.”

Keeping my eyes on him, I do. Slowly. Because I’m starting to get off on how his nostrils flare and his eyes become flickering flames when I’m compliant.

He feeds his cock into my mouth, hissing when I close it around him and swirl my tongue around his taut skin and swollen veins.

“Behave,” he groans out, gripping a fistful of my hair.

Backing down—begrudgingly—I let him have it his way.

With long, careful thrusts, he fucks my mouth. “Think you can be good and take more for me,regina?”

His cock is too long for me to take all of it. But even as my eyes are watering, I nod. Committed to being “good.”

He feeds in more of himself, choking me. “Ah, fuck. You’re being so good for me,regina.Così buona.” With each thrust, he goes deeper, until I’m gagging and tears are trailing down my cheeks. He touches two fingers to my throat, to feel the havoc he’s wreaking there. “Such pretty tears. Pretty wet eyes.Bellissima.”

Using his thumb, he collects a rivulet of my tears and sucks it into his mouth. “All of you is mine, Tillie Garza.”

More tears escape as he continues to fuck my throat. He collects every drop and laps it up. Drinking my tears. Telling me how beautiful I am. How good I’m being.

I try to endure for as long as I can. But despite my will to please, being a “good girl” has never been my vibe. Defiance is in my blood. I’m forged in it.

When his hips flex backward, about to plunge in deep again, I lock my lips around his head and suck, eliciting a deep, winding groan from him.

“Piccola—” he tries to speak, but my fingers wrapping around his cock with a light squeeze cut him off. “Fuuuck.”

I work his cock with my mouth, tongue, and hands. Pumping, sucking, twisting my fists in opposite directions. And because I’ve always been great at show-and-tell, I imitate most of his movements from when he made himself come last night. He’d squeezed himself a lot. Tightly. Almost as if he was punishing himself for chasing pleasure. I squeeze him now as I suck him off, but not as punitively as he had. Because I want him to feelpleasure, not punishment.

Moans and muttered Italian words fall out of him as his fingers tangle in my hair. He could be cursing me out for all I know with those words. But I don’t mind.

Thisis what gets me off. Driving him wild.