“What do you want?”
His fingers slip down inside my panties. I whimper and take small, quick breaths as he teases my lips open and finds my dripping pussy gushing onto his palm. He groans his excitement and fills me with two big fingers, sliding in and out, before rolling around my clit.
“I want to ruin you.”
He bites my lower lip and I moan. His grip tightens in my hair. “I want to show you how good it feels to finally let go of all their expectations.”
“Right now, all I can think about is this.” I blink rapidly, my brain fuzzing out as he goes faster, fingers sliding in deeper, his palm grinding against my clit. “And maybe—fuck—I’m wondering—ah, fuck—how much money that stupid guitar costs.”
“Don’t worry, filthy girl. The one signed by Jimi Hendrix is still on the wall.”
My eyes bug out and he laughs but kisses me again and his hand grinds against my pussy and I’m lost in the moment, moving my hips, moaning into his mouth as he goes faster and faster, driving me wild. Some part of my head’s telling me to keep going, to let myself finally surrender to pleasure for once in my life. I don’t have to be perfect and in control all the time, I can let myself justfeelfor once, feel as many emotions, as much pleasure as I want.
I reach forward and my fingers play over his belt buckle. His eyebrows raise as I undo it, the metal jingling. My hands are trembling as I open his top button and pull down his fly, and I’m so nervous, but I don’t care, and I don’t stop, because I smashed a guitar for fun and I want this, I want it right now. He nibbles my neck, kissing and sucking gently as his fingers keep fucking me, as I reach down to stroke his massive cock, moaning at the thickness of it, at how hard he is, practically pulsing against the limits of his underwear.
I’ve never done this before. Not once, in my entire life, have I made the first move. I’ve never reached out and felt a man’s stiffness, his thick, hard cock, quivering under my fingertips, purely because I wanted it. I’ve always held back, always wondered what people would think, always tried to keep myself as pure as possible—but now, right here, in the mess of the music room, I’m tired of being something I’msupposedto be, and instead want to be whatever I am right now.
And right now, I want him.
I want Carmine. His body, his moans. His grunts of pleasure. His words, filthy, degrading, beautiful. I want to feel him and give myself to him and experience something more than the mundane.
I drop to my knees. His hand slips out from my panties and I shiver, a moan on my lips. His eyes are like glowing coals as I pull down his boxer briefs and take his rock-hard cock in both my hands, marveling at his size, at the veins on his shaft and the drop of precum on the tip of his head. I reach out with my tongue and lick it, tasting the saltiness, and let my desire fill me like a balloon.
I should stop. I should hold back and be a good girl, but instead, I stroke him and look up into his eyes, and he takes hold of my hair and gently pulls.
“You want it, don’t you, filthy girl?” he whispers and I nod slowly, my mouth hanging open. He puts his thumb on my lower lip and I suck it slightly then bite down. He gasps, eyes lighting up brighter, and grins. “Oh, you are a filthy little girl, aren’t you? I want to feel your tongue on every inch of my shaft. I want to feel the back of your fucking throat. I want to fuck that pretty mouth raw and I want to hear you moan while I do it.”
I take him then and suck him. I let him push me down deep and move back, gasping and stroking, and not caring that a trail of spit leads from my tongue to his tip. I don’t care that I’m being messy and wild and I don’t care what he thinks. I want to taste him, want to feel him in my mouth quivering, and I want toknowthat it’s because of me.
I go faster, sucking him, stroking him, and his moans and growls and grunts of pleasure drive me absolutely wild. I feel myself dripping down my leg, so wet I’m almost drooling. I moan as I take him deeper and stroke him, staring into his eyes, and I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take this need, this raw and dirtywant, I need to do something before I break.
He pulls me to my feet and kisses me. I gasp as he turns me around and shoves me forward, bending me over the piano. The cold lacquered wood makes my heart race and I feel him press against my aching, swollen pussy. His hands grip my hips and he presses against my body and nearly enters me, but holds back as I stand and lean against him, grinding so slowly it’s like every small wiggle is a brand-new sensation. He grips my hair and kisses me over my shoulder.
“Tell me you want this,” he whispers. “Say the words, filthy girl. Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
“I want you to fuck me, Carmine.” I’ve never said anything like that before.
“Tell me how you want it.” His hand spanks my ass hard and I moan as he teases my clit.
“I want you to fuck me right on this piano. I want you to break it and I don’t give a damn. I want you to fuck me, Carmine, and look me in the eye as you make me come.”
He growls, lifts me up, puts me down on the closed lid, and slowly fills me with this thick length.
I throw my head back and moan. God, it’s bliss, and it hurts so bad as he stretches me in half. He keeps going, deeper and deeper, and growls as he stays there buried to the hilt inside of me.
He leans down and kisses me. We hold that position for what feels like forever. “Tell me the truth,” he whispers. “Are you a virgin?”
“I was, but not anymore.”
He lets out a slow moan and starts to fuck me again. Slowly, so slowly, and it’s like I might explode against his length. I grind my hips and we work in rhythm like that, the room forgotten, the world forgotten, there’s only Carmine and his cock and my pussy dripping all over time, and I’m in bliss, riding that edge along orgasm.
“I never dreamed you’d feel like this,” he whispers as he goes faster and kisses my neck. “I never imagined I’d get a taste of your virgin pussy, my sweet, filthy fucking girl, but here you are spreading your legs for me on a piano, taking your future husband nice and deep, and you’re dripping all over. You realize that, don’t you? You’re dripping all over and loving every second of it. That’s why I keep calling you my filthy girl. Deep inside, this is what you are.”
“Yes,” I moan as he goes faster and I’m grinding against him, moving my hips faster. “Fuck, yes, that’s what I am.”
“Say it, tell me what you are.”
“I’m dirty.”