Snapping to my senses, I stop that train of thought in its tracks when I feel a familiar, warm tingling in my body, and I catch myself even as I’m starting to grind my hips into the bed. Shame rises to my cheeks.
This is the guy who just asked to own me for a year. To deprive me of my freedom to act outside his will, outside his grasp for twelve whole months.
...but how bad would that have sounded during the night we spent together?
After all, wasn’t that half the fun of it, at the time? I’d shirked all responsibility, left all the stress and all the worry over the club behind me as I set foot into his bedroom. Now that I remember glimpses of it, it was a nice place, too. A lot nicer than what I have, that’s for sure.
That’s what you get from mob money, I guess.
That thought makes me angry. This guy is the mafia. He’s a monster. A criminal.
But he isn’t as bad as the rest of them, now, is he?
I turn over on the bed and stare angrily at the ceiling again, furious at the sensations plaguing my body. There’s no way I’m going to let myself be the possession of some mobster who has access to anything he wants.
So why am I so wet?
My hand wanders its way down between my legs, and as my fingers brush my swollen lips through the fabric of the thin cloth covering them, I feel a comforting warmth through my body.
I also hear a hard NO come from my better judgment. This is the man who could determine whether a bunch of thugs have their way with me.
Absolutely not. No. Under no circumstances.
All those thoughts do is make my heart race faster as I’m slipping my underwear off.
A little whimper escapes me as I part my lips and gently start to massage my clit. There’s more tension bound up in me than I realize, just like the last time I was with him. With Ivan. How did I not even get his name during the whole time we spent together?
My clit is reluctant to warm up to my touch, it’s been so long, but compulsion makes me keep massaging the sensitive skin as my legs move slowly up and down the sheets, relishing in the feel of the fabric against my inner thighs.
My fingers are moving a little faster as I get wetter, and then the night I’d buried under all the stress of work starts to come back to me. How strong Ivan was, how I had wanted to wrap myself around him and never let go.
He was just some gorgeous stranger, and I let him fuck me. I might not be able to imitate how his massive crown felt diving inside me, but my hips rocked up into my touch as I remember the way he felt grinding against me, holding me so lovingly even though it was a one-night stand.
He used me, I think to myself as I feel my fingers wetten as they touch my desperate, needy cunt. My whole body has been wishing for that release again, I realize.
The thought makes my heart flutter. The body I’ve been wanting to press up against me, to hold me tight and hold me up with an inescapable grip while he fucks me has been that of a mobster this whole time. A hardened criminal.
I let out a soft moan, not sure where the transition from idly touching myself to torturing my clit happened, but now I’m squirming on the bed sheets, my fingers covered in my own wetness, and my heart is racing.
He wants me. After all those months, he thought of me and wants me in his bed, in his hands, and around his cock again.
Would it really feel so bad, a year under his ownership?
7
Katy
My muscles tense and my toes clench as my mouth is forced open by the overwhelming cresting of the orgasm that follows that scandalous thought, and in a liberating moment of ecstasy, I let out a long, breathy cry of release as I feel my whole body electrified by the thought of Ivan looming over me again.
I keep moving my fingers and come again and again as my body writhes in a mixture of pleasure and shame at the thought of him, of his impossibly strong body and those dark blue eyes holding my gaze as long as he wanted.
Finally, my clit is almost too sensitive to touch, and I withdraw my hand, clenching my legs together as my body shakes and I turn onto my side to curl up as the sensations subside.
It’s a few moments before I can let my hand return to my pussy, slowly and gently nursing it through the orgasm’s subsiding.
My eyes crack open, and I look down at the mess I’ve made of myself.
Then my mouth starts to curl into a smile, and I bite my lip and turn my head into the pillows in disbelief at the silliness of the thoughts I just used to get myself off.
“You’re a mess, Katy,” I half-giggle at myself, wallowing in the enormous feeling of relaxation that pins me to the bed, “a perverted mess.”
A few minutes later, I’m in the shower, steam pouring over the top of the clear sliding doors as I lean against the cool walls, letting my hair get soaked. I might have gotten myself off, but I’m still slick between my lips. I can’t stop thinking about how great it would have felt to have joined Ivan in the shower that night.