Michelle and Ricardo

"Touch your clit." He commanded roughly. Her hand released its hold on the counter and moved to her slit. She stroked the sensitive bud slightly and immediately threw her head back against his chest.

"Ricardo, please." She begged, speaking for the first time.

"Please what?" He asked, remaining still inside of her. She moved her hand from her clit and begged him with her eyes again. "Did I tell you to stop touching your pussy?" he felt a gush of wetness leak from her at the sound of his words. He grabbed her hand and moved it back to her clit. "Touch your pussy while you talk to me."

"Please" She whimpered. "Please...just...please." She was stroking her clit and the more she rubbed, the more strained her voice became.

"Rub your clit." She was about to come. He could tell. Her legs were barely holding her weight, her eyes weren't focused on anything at all. God, she was beautiful. Her nails dug into the countertop as she pressed against him. "Come for me." He whispered pulling her hair. She fell apart then, no more moans, no whimpers, though her mouth was open as though her throat were pushing out sounds. She shook violently, as a single tear trailed down her face. Her pussy gripped his dick and it seemed as though it wouldn't let him go. As soon as the sensation started to fade, she felt him thrusting into her.

"Oh, God." She breathed, brought back to reality. "Please, please. Oh, God." She began mumbling incoherently. He stroked her watching as her body submitted fully to him. He pulled her hair again, forcing her to watch him taking her, ravaging her. She came again, soundlessly, her body shaking around him. He came then, exploding unexpectedly within her. He had felt the come boiling in his balls, but had been forcing it back time and time again, wanting to prolong his stay in her sweet pussy. He pulled out, bending her over at the same time, jetting the rest of his pearlescent come across the mahogany colored globes of her ass. There. She was completely his now. She looked up at him in the mirror, breathless. He grabbed a hand towel and wiped his come off of her skin and then cleaned himself. He could barely stand, but he forced himself to carry her back to the bed. She had twitched subtly in his arms as he carried her, submerged in the gentle aftershocks of her orgasms. He collapsed in the bed next to her, waiting for her to speak.

"I never knew....." She started. He stroked her cheek gently as they lay there.

"You never knew what?"

"I never knew it could be like that." Despite the darkness of her skin, he could tell she was blushing. He smirked. After all they had done, she was blushing.

"Like what?"

"I don't know...I don't really know the words to describe it. It wasn't what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"Well, I didn't expect the entire second part." He laughed at the way she skirted around saying anything explicitly sexual.

"You're beautiful." He sighed, touching her damp hair. She seemed a little embarrassed at the compliment, as he knew he would be.

"You don't have to say that."

"I'm aware." They were both quiet for a moment. "I'm not just saying that because we just had sex."

"Had sex or fucked?" He felt the disbelief rising within him as soon as she finished her sentence. His nostrils flared slightly as he fought the urge to yell. Lifting her chin, he searched her face to see if that was what she really thought. It was. She hadn't said it to get a reaction out of him. It was a genuine question.

"Dammit, Michelle. I did not fuck you. You could tell I was hesitant about doing anything and this is exactly why. I didn't want you to confuse my intentions. What the hell do I have to do to show this isn't just about your body?"

"How was it not fucking when you said the things you said to me?"Her voice was level as though she was trying to calm him, but still held the same questioning tone as before. He was floored. She had to be joking.

"When I told you to rub your clit for me? That was to bring you more pleasure. To show you how sexy you look, how beautiful you look when you're about to come. I wanted you to see what I see." He tried not to yell, but as he spoke, it seemed like he could help but allow the volume in his voice to rise. Was she serious? She completely missed the point of everything he wanted her to experience.

"No. When you said I belong to you. Like an object, like-," She began. He practically bounded off the bed.

"Michelle, what the hell are you talking about? That has nothing to do with objectifying you! You are mine. I meant what I said. But not as an object. Mine as in, that pussy is mine. The only one I want. And my dick is the only one that will ever touch that pussy. Mine as in I'm the only man that will ever touch you, console you, hold you at night. What is so difficult to understand about that? " He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. She was holding a pillow again, covering her body and clearly frightened.

"I'm sorry." Came the soft peep from behind the pillow. He sighed and walked over to her. She wrapped her arms tighter around the pillow, knowing that he was coming to take it from her.

" I'm not going to take it, Michelle." He sighed again and sat next to her, playing with her toes. They were painted neon pink. It suited her perfectly.

"I just don't understand. It's hard to erase all the bad things I've heard about you. I can't fully comprehend the man I've heard so much about actually caring about someone, wanting to actually be with someone. Especially me. I'm nothing spectacular..." He opened his mouth to speak but she started again before he could get a word in. "And this situation seems like it's purely about sex. You take me in exchange for repayment of my parent's loan. I have no other marketable skills, just my body. Just...me. So what else am I supposed to think you want?" She sighed, resting her head on the pillow. If she only knew, he wished the same thing.

"I'm sorry I yelled. And I will prove to you that my intentions are not exactly what they seem."

"Okay." There was the slightest tinge of doubt in her reply. Not that he could blame her. It was a peculiar situation and he could see why she would feel the way she did.

"Michelle..." he huffed, with nothing in particular to say.

"If you were interested in me all this time, why didn't you just say it?" She was still hidden behind her pillow. He pulled it gently and she released it hesitantly.

"I was tired of women who dated me for my money, and it would be a conflict of interest considering I had still had business dealing with your parents." It rolled easily off his tongue as though he already asked himself the question.

"But I didn't even know who you were or what you looked like until yesterday." She countered.

"One, I didn't know that and two, you would have found out. It's not very easy to hide who I am from people in my life for very long. My actions would have clued you in to what business I was in and I'm sure people in your circle know who I am." He pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her.

"You thought that what you do would keep me getting to know you?"

"I know it would. You have high standards." He interlaced their fingers as he spoke comparing their hands.

"Some women would consider you quite a catch." She countered.

"High moral standards. Under ordinary circumstances you would never spend your time with someone like me."

"True." She conceded. "Ricardo. I think you will find out that I'm not nearly as great as you think I am."

"I doubt it. I want you to be whoever it is you truly are. And I also know a lot more about you than you think."

"Is that so?" she asked, flexing her fingers between his."Like what?"

"You hate pretzels, your favorite author is Zora Neale Hurston, and you could have been an amazing singer had you parents cultivated your gift." She stiffened at the random blurbs of information.

"How do you know...never mind. I don't think I even want to know." She sighed and crawled awkwardly out of his lap. "I hate feeling like I'm in the dark about everything. You know everything about me, and I know absolutely nothing about you. I hate being so vulnerable."

"There are things that I don't know about you."

"Like?"

"Who you were keeping your pussy so smooth for?" She swallowed, embarrassed by his vulgar language.

"I just like it like that." She whispered.

"Really?" His face was inches from hers.

"Yes. I feel cleaner and...I just like it." He guided her to her back and placed a hand on her pussy. She gasped softly and instinctively grabbed his hand.

"So no one has been licking this pussy, fingering this pussy," He slid two fingers deep into her as he said it, "fucking this pussy, making you come?"

"N-no." She responded shaking her head. Damn, she was dripping already.

"Michelle, I think you are a bad, bad girl." She writhed against the bed as he turned his hand upwards to stroke her g spot. "The dirtier I talk, the wetter this pretty pussy gets. Is that just a coincidence?" She nodded her head ferverently in the affirmative. "Mmm, I don't think so. I think it turns you on to hear me talk about the nasty shit I want to do to you." She tried to look away, but he stopped her pressing his fingers into her cheek. Her back arched off the bed as he reached deeper inside her. "Tell me, how nasty can you get? Will this pussy squirt if I hit the right spot?" She swallowed, trying to pull his hand out of her, but he was so much stronger, and the urge to come was much stronger that her will to stop him. "Do you keep it so smooth because you like the way it feels when you caress it just before you finger yourself to an orgasm?" She struggled more against him, his words hitting uncomfortably close to home. "Let go. It's only pleasure. I will catch you." He breathed into her ear, pressing his body against hers. She came as soon as the words left his mouth. It was like she was exploding. Her body shook as the pleasure shot through her violently. "Beautiful." He whispered as her head tilted back and her lips parted in ecstasy. Her brow knit together and there was the slightest sheen of sweat on her forehead. He never enjoyed the sight of a woman coming as much as he did her. He just wanted to watch her body contort in orgasm after orgasm over and over again until she could take no more.

"I feel like I have no control over my body when you do that." Michelle said between breaths.

"Do what? Make you come?"

"Yes." Rolling over, she put her back to him.

"Is that why you fight it?"

"Partially, yes."

"That's how everyone feels when they have orgasms."

"I've had orgasms and still felt in control." She said over her shoulder.

"Well then, they weren't orgasms." She didn't have to turn around to know he was smirking down at her.

"Are we going out or not?" She asked tartly.

"No. I much rather make you come in every room of this house." She was getting shy again. He would break her from it eventually. He wanted to hear dirty explicit things spill from those full lips. To hear her tell him exactly how she wanted it as she thrust into her wetness. But he was a patient man. He would wait. And the waiting would make it that much better when he finally heard it from her.