That didn't stop the delicious pressure behind his dick pressed up against my entrance though, leaving me desperate and wanting.
"Fine," I said through gritted teeth, bracing myself on my forearms. "I want to be your filthy, little whore. I want you to fuck my pussy raw. Happy?"
He reached over to my mouth and stuffed my panties into it.
"Can't get caught like last time. This is a library, you know. You have to be quiet, even if your pussy hurts," he said, before shoving his whole dick into me.
I was so wet that he slid right in. My eyes widened as he filled me up all at once. Just like when he fingered me, he didn't wait for me to adjust. He just went straight to fucking me, his hands on my hips to steady me. Loud, wet slapping sounds filled the air as he drilled me savagely, drowning out my panty muffled screams.
Under normal circumstances, I'd be embarrassed at the way I was reacting to him. Truly like a wanton whore. For fuck's sake, he stuffed panties into my mouth. By this point though, I was so desperate to be fucked I was beyond caring.
He felt so amazing inside me, it was otherworldly. At some point, he fucked so deep into me that I fell forward, no longer able to stay on my forearms. I gripped the edge of the desk, my breasts and face now squashed against the cool wood.
The desk shook from the force with which he took me. My body was completely at his mercy. The idea of being there solely for his pleasure got me high.
"Does my dirty whore like that?" he whispered into my ear.
I nodded my head with effort, my throat hoarse from my muffled screams. No words passed between us after that, but I could hear him panting and groaning with pleasure. With my own moans muffled, I heard him so clearly, enjoying me and the memory we were making. Indulging in his own pleasure instead of just fixating on mine.
Obviously this wasn't the most romantic way I could have fantasised about him, but when it started I hadn't meant to fall for him. Calling me a dirty whore wasn't exactly sweet, but all I heard was him checking in on me, knowing he was being rough and controlling every aspect of what was happening. Wanting to make sure I was okay. He made me feel like a vulnerable mess, but in his hands that was okay because I was safe.
He pressed his lips to the back of my neck and back, leaving featherlight kisses all over me as he continued to plough into me. The moment it started, an all consuming warmth washed over me. Something in the atmosphere changed and I knew I was loved.
Not just liked, cared for or wanted, but loved. Passionately and unabashedly loved. There wasn't the slightest doubt in my mind that I would give myself to him like this a thousand times over if I could. He was fucking me senseless, his weight now pressing down on me. Making it so that I would probably struggle to walk tomorrow, and all I could think about was his hands on me. How deep he was inside me, pounding away at my g spot. How he knew I'd been dreaming of this for years and how happy he was to make it happen for me.
"Stacy," he said, my name slipping out of his mouth as he pressed his forehead into my back. "I need you so much."
The heartbreaking way in which he said that had me welling up with tears. What I thought would be a quiet climax snuck up on me, building in intensity as it ripped through my body like a hot wave. I shook beneath him uncontrollably. Just as I thought my legs would give out, he gently withdrew from me. He wrapped my trembling body up in his arms, picked me up and sat me back down on the desk so that I was facing him. He touched my lower lip with his thumb, cupping my cheek and watching me come.
"I need to keep fucking my little whore. Sorry baby, I just can't stop. I need more," he said, sounding unhinged as he laid his lips on mine and slid back into me mid orgasm.
"Then don't. Please don't stop," I said with a satisfied sigh at having him back inside me.
Despite being a quivering mess, I welcomed him into my arms. He picked up speed again quickly, selfishly fucking right through my orgasm, but I didn't care. I was still putty in his hands, but all my restraints were gone. He was watching me, kissing me, touching my quivering body like he was mapping it out, listening to me scream. Everything I did only made him come alive more.
"This is all I want," he said, rubbing his cheek up against mine, thrusting into me tirelessly. "Just to keep fucking my little whore."
Gone was the demon who had me bent over the desk moments ago. He seemed to be pleading with me, as though I was denying him something, which I wasn't.
Would it scare him off if he knew he had all of me? My heart, body, mind. My very soul. When I left Chicago, I promised myself I'd never belong to anyone else ever again, but here we were. I belonged to him completely.
Our hips raised towards each other's repeatedly as we met in the middle, equally hungry to please each other.
"Keep fucking your little whore. Fuck me all you want," I said, trying to reassure him. "I'm yours, remember? Only yours."
Something came over me when he exploded inside me without warning and my body trembled in his arms again.
We exchanged satisfied smiles, staring into each other's eyes as we both enjoyed release. So much felt left unsaid between us when his dick softened and he slid out of me. He stumbled back, pulled up his pants, helped me off the desk and dropped into a chair. Then he took my hand and led me to him. I sat down on his lap and he held me close.
"That was intense," I said, trying to catch my breath.
"Good intense?" he asked, looking down at me, equally breathless.
I smiled up at him dreamily and he beamed back.
"Good intense," we said together.
"We should get you cleaned up and dressed. This is a very public place. Getting caught naked here would not be good," he said and we laughed.
What he didn't say was he probably needed to check his phone for news from Frankie. What I didn't want to hear was that our night was over.
"I'll meet you out front? I need to find my shoes and my bra," I said, just as his phone dinged with a message.
That sound meant that we had to go back to the world in which Jenny was missing. I got up from his lap and slipped back into my dress. He dug his phone out of his pocket and checked his messages.
"It's Frankie," he said and my hopes rose higher than they should have. "Nothing yet."
Of course he hadn't found her yet. It had barely been a couple of hours. A thousand possibilities went through my head, very few ending with Frankie finding Jenny.
My own phone rang then. I reached into my pocket and checked my screen.
"It's Don Angelo," I said, turning away from Scott as I answered the phone.
"I called Joey off. Consider it an olive branch," said Don Angelo.
I knew better than to think that was the end of it.
"I'm not coming home," I said, my voice wavering.
"That's entirely up to you. You have 48 hours to find Jenny. If you don't, I expect you to come home and marry Luca or she dies. Ciao erede," he said, ending the call.
"What did he say?" Scott asked, his voice low.
Scott's pleas to just be allowed to keep fucking me washed over me anew. I was reading into every word now and every facial expression that came with them. Dissecting it all and giving it new meaning. One thing was certain: I had no business reassuring him that he could fuck me all he wanted, knowing full well that might not be true.
"Threats, as always. Joey won't go after Jenny for 48 hours. If we don't find her in that time, I have to go home and marry Luca or Jenny dies,"
I answered him, too much of a coward to turn back around and face him as I said it.