“Okay.” She seemed anxious yet, and Luca understood that she was pushing her own boundaries, making a concession for him.
He put his hands under her ass, finding the little globes to be surprisingly supple with muscle, and lifted her off his lap, shrugging his shoulders under her legs. God, it was good to have her in his hands. She worked with him, her eyes wide and watchful, and let her legs hook over the back of the sofa.
Then he held her close, his hands splayed over her ass and lower back, and fed on her pretty, little naked pussy.
“Holy geez,” she whispered, and he smiled, then got back to sucking on her clit and licking his tongue through her folds, lapping up her juices.
“Luca, fuck.”
He stopped and looked up, doing a status check. She stared down at him, her eyes wide and brilliantly blue, her mouth open. She held his head in her hands.
“Okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah.” Then she bent down and kissed him, sucking his tongue into her mouth. When she released him, she was grinning. “I love your beard.”
Chuckling, he got back to business. When she was grunting and writhing in his hands, against his face, and he could feel that she was completely relaxed, he pulled back. “Okay, sugar. Hold on. Just go with me a sec.”
He lifted one of her legs over his head and spun her around—he’d have been surprised if she weighed even a hundred pounds, so moving her was nothing—so she was straddling him again, but this time facing away.
“Please?” She looked over her shoulder, and he could see she was confused and maybe a little anxious.
“You run the show now. Get the depth you want. You’re good and loose. Just go with it. Don’t tense up.”
“I can’t see you—I can’t see you touching me. I won’t be ready.”
“I won’t touch you.” He spread his arms across the back of the sofa again. “Go on, bit. Use me.”
Without further ado, she turned and took hold of his cock, then settled herself slowly down on it, stopping a few times, and lifting back up, then settling down a little farther. He sure as fuck filled her up, because her pussy was as tight around him as a clenched fist. A hot, clenched fist in a silk glove. But she kept going, taking all of him, and when she sat down on him and was still for a second, he gripped the edges of the sofa in both shaking hands.
“Jesus fuck, Manny. You okay?”
She didn’t respond.
“Manny?”
“Oh! Yeah. It just feels…I’m afraid to move.”
“M’I hurting you?”
“No, no. I just don’t want it to stop. If I move, we’re gonna come, and it’ll be over.”
At this point, the thought of not coming was almost enough to make Luca weep. “Over just for now. We can do it again. But sugar, I’m gonna need to come.” He flexed his hips under her, making himself groan and her toss her head back with a sharp gasp.
So she moved on him, slowly at first, feeling him out, finding the rhythm that worked.
Luca stared at her back, clutching the sofa, wanting fiercely to touch her. Her hair was mostly over her shoulders, leaving her back exposed to his view. She had a large tattoo covering most of the top half of her back—a big, intricate black mandala, with a beautifully shaded pinkish flower in the center. It was excellent work, and he wanted to touch that flower.
Her figure was considerably more womanly than he had expected. As small and slight as she was, he’d figured her for the sort of boyish body that so many small women seemed to have, at least in his experience—slim hips, not much waist, flat chest. Instead, she had some curves, just in smaller proportion. Her breasts swelled prettily from her slim chest, and her hips flared from a neatly tucked waist. In fact, as he stared at that very spot, among his favorite spots, he imagined fitting his hands along her hips, pressing his thumbs into those two perfect dimples. She was so slender that his thumbs would probably cross each other, but still. He watched her muscles move under her smooth, pale skin, as she rocked and writhed on him, and he thought he would rip her sofa to shreds before all was said and done. Keeping his hands to himself was going to fucking kill him.
All of these assorted needs had the benefit of distracting him from the wildly erotic sensation of that sweet little writhing pussy pulsing and rocking on his cock. But then she got close and started to make gasping little grunts, and she leaned forward, her fingers digging into the meat of his thighs. And she sped up, faster and faster, the little sounds became one continuous sound, a breathy wail, and then she reared back and bounced energetically on him, crying out every time she landed.