By Saskia Walker
The mirror is full length, freestanding, and displayed in an ornately carved wooden frame. I focus on its design rather than look at my reflection, even though Gianni has put me there for a reason—to make me look at my reflection while I am aroused, to make me see everything he sees.
He’s close at my back and the heat of his breath on my shoulder sends a shiver through me. I glance back, meeting his gaze. His eyes are dark and inscrutable, and the sensual set of his mouth makes me crave his kiss. I won’t get it, not until I earn it. I already know that.
“You’re missing the great view.” There’s a teasing tone in his voice, and as he speaks he lowers my shoulder straps and pulls my dress down as far as my waist.
My bare breasts bounce free. The action stimulates me intensely, the tug of material over my bare nipples making them knot and tingle. Then he nods where he wants me to look, and I brace myself and turn to face the mirror.
At first I can’t bear it. It’s shameful, the way he’s holding me there, making me face up to my reflection. But Gianni cups my chin from behind, turning my face from side to side. “Look at those eyes.”
As embarrassing as it is, I can see that he’s right. My lips are parted; there’s a hungry look in my eyes and a high flush on my cheeks. When he runs his fingers down my throat to my chest, I whimper. I know what’s coming. With his fingers locked on my nipples he teases the peaked flesh, making it painfully erect. My core clenches in response to the intense stimulation, desperate to be filled.
“You’re beautiful.”
“I’m embarrassed!”
He laughs softly. “Even more beautiful than usual, but you always are when you’re begging for it.”
I hang my head.
He strips my dress down and encourages me to step out of it, then puts his hands on my shoulders. “On your hands and knees, now.”
A shiver runs the length of my spine. Can I do this? Awkwardly, I lower to the floor and get into position. I can’t help but look then, because I want to see him. The image is so striking, with me there on the floor and Gianni towering over me. He’s stripped to the waist and his belt is already undone. The bulge beneath his zipper makes the pulse at my center go wild.
“If you look away, you won’t get what you need.” He states this as he drops down behind me. Roughly, he pulls my G-string free and lets it drop to my knees where its stays, like incriminating evidence of fast, dirty sex.
I hear his zipper being opened and the very sound of it runs along my ragged nerve endings. Slowly he strokes his fingers the length of my folds, teasing my clit, before he nudges one knuckle into my opening. My back arches, my eyes closing as my head lifts.
“Oh, Gianni,” I plead. I hope he’ll take pity on me and give me his cock.
Instead, Gianni puts his fingers under my chin as he issues his instruction. “Look in the mirror, Nic.”
Forcing myself to obey, I look. I’m inches away from my own reflection and painfully embarrassed by what I see. No longer the sophisticated businesswoman, I look shamefully aroused and needy.
“It’s your fault,” I whisper beneath my breath. I want him so much. A horrible knotting sensation gathers in my chest when I consider that he might not make love to me, after all.
“What do you look like?”
Heat flares in my face. I remember what he says about me at times like this, and how much it turns me on when he says it. Saying it myself was a different matter altogether, but I knew it was true and I wanted to be brave enough to state it.
“Like a bitch in heat.” My voice is barely above a whisper, but somehow saying it aloud unshackles something deep inside me.
Gianni smiles. Pleasure gathers in my chest because I pleased him.
“Do you know how good it feels, to see you like this? Do you know how hard it makes my cock?”
I nod. Another shackle is undone. Gianni arches over my back, and the look in his eyes forbids me to defy him. I feel the hard length of his cock against my thigh. Cursing silently, I pray he’ll fill me with it soon. My inner thighs are getting damp because my pussy is so wet. I flash him a disbelieving glance, but I can see it there in my eyes when I turn back, blatant desperation. My hips swing from side to side of their own accord, as if in invitation. That’s how he sees it, and that only makes the need more urgent.
“It’s making me crazy,” I blurt.
“Good,” Gianni retorts. “That is exactly what you do to me.”
That’s when he eases his cock inside me, stretching me open.
My core clamps on his length. The action only makes my situation worse. I feel liquid run down my inner thigh. But Gianni won’t move—won’t pull out and thrust again—not until I follow his instruction.
I moan aloud, frustration getting the better of me.
“Look at yourself, my love. I want you to see it all.”
“I can’t. Please, Gianni, it’s too much.” He can’t be serious. He can’t mean me to watch the push and shove, the primitive act. But that’s what he intended all along, to cast aside my pride and undo my shame.
Cupping my jaw in one large hand, he makes me look.
At first I can’t see straight, but when I get a grip on my emotions and manage to focus, I barely recognize myself. My face is flushed, my eyes wild, the pupils dilated. I strain restlessly against the bulk of his cock as I wait, my need for his thrusts obvious. The rise and fall of my chest as I pant for breath shows me my how locked in I am.
Gianni looks crazy-madman-attractive, demanding and powerful, arched over me as he is. The muscles in his neck and bare shoulders are taut, restraint pouring from him. How determined he is, how demanding. His eyes narrow and his hands latch onto my hips, holding them tight.
“Doesn’t that look like a woman begging to be fucked?”
And a man who is more than able to do the job, I reflect with no small amount of irony. He’s done it again—he’s taken me to a different appreciation of our sexuality and relationship. I nod and shift against that glorious erection, unable to help myself.
He moves his hand between my thighs to run one finger back and forth over my clit, making it sting with pleasure. “Only if you watch,” he whispers.
That sends my reason out the door. I toss my head back, staring at his reflection, brazenly demanding that he get on with it.
He grins when his eyes lock with mine. “You’re ready now, aren’t you?”
“Yes!” I stare determinedly at our reflection in the mirror as instructed.
Gianni gives a husky laugh and then unleashes a determined thrust and grind. It’s so rough that I have to clutch at the carpet. My sex is throbbing and I place my knees farther apart to stay upright during his onslaught. That makes me take him even deeper, and my pussy is wide open, clit throbbing wildly. At my center, I’m slick and hot. All the while I watch, fascinated by the sheer animal lust I see unfolding before me. My lips are parted my body arched lewdly to take him in. Gianni flexes and drives, a wicked gleam in his eyes when I cry out in response.
“You’re so beautiful when you are wild like this.” His cock swells inside me as he speaks.
Orgasm flares on the horizon. I pivot against his hardness. It buoys up deep inside me, but still I watch, and I see it all—just as Gianni said I would—and it’s too good.
When his eyes close and his head drops back, his cock jerking inside me, I see his release, feel it, want it. My own release blurs the image before my eyes, but still I watch us—and now I never want to look away.