Looking up, he saw her make her hand signal. “Permission to speak,” he growled into her ear.
“Sir, please,” she begged in a breathless moan, “permission to moan?”
“Permission granted,” Vic smiled into her hair. She moaned as he continued to stroke her, her hips bucking solidly, and he pressed his iron cock into her belly. With his full length against her flesh, she cried out and shook, then resumed her bucking against him. “You are fine, so fine. I’m going to enjoy fucking you so much, ragazza bella,” he told her, tormenting her with the promise. She moaned even louder, and he felt her stomach muscles tightening against his rigidness. “You will not come until I give you permission, do you understand?” She nodded and groaned.
He kept up his determined stroking and she moaned and whimpered louder, a pitiable louder. As her stomach muscles hardened even more, he reminded her again, “You will not come until I give you permission.” She cried out, and he increased the speed of his strokes, but his gaze was cautious. It was obvious that she was headed deep and fast into subspace, fighting to keep her orgasm at bay, and he continued to stroke faster and with more pressure, watching her strain and gasp, shaking all over and breaking out into a sweat. She looked like she might pass out, and Vic decided she’d had enough. “You have my permission to come whenever you . . .”
looks like someone needs to call the fire dept, this is smoking!!!!!
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