Mistress Teases Sub on Amalfi Coast
The salty air of the Amalfi Coast clung to my skin like a promise as I, Nyx, moved through the crowded market stalls, my eyes cutting through the chaos until they landed on him. Soren stood half-hidden by crates of lemons, his broad shoulders tense under a linen shirt, fingers hovering over a display of hand-blown glass without touching anything. One look at the way his throat bobbed when our gazes met told me everything: he was already mine, even before I spoke.
I stepped closer, letting the hem of my sundress brush his leg before I dragged it deliberately higher along his thigh. The fabric lingered there, warm from the sun, as I bought two figs from the vendor. When I pressed one into his palm, the warm citrus scent clung to his fingers, sharp and sweet, and his breath caught as he took it.
“You’re not from here either,” I said, voice low enough that only he could hear. He swallowed again, dark eyes flicking down to my mouth before he answered.
“No, Mistress. Just arrived yesterday.” The word slipped out of him like it had been waiting years to be said. Heat pooled low in my belly at the instant surrender. I didn’t correct him. Instead I told him to follow me up the cliff path to the cabana I’d rented for the week.
The sheer white curtains billowed inward the moment we stepped inside, carrying the endless rush of waves against rock. Soren stood in the center of the tiled floor, chest rising fast, waiting. I circled him once, fingers tracing the line of his spine through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“Strip. Slowly. I want to see what I’m claiming on this holiday.” He obeyed without hesitation, each button coming undone under trembling hands until he stood bare and already hard, cock curving up against his stomach. The sight made my mouth water.
I pushed him to his knees on the cool stone. “Hands behind your back. Mouth open.” The first slide of my fingers between his lips was slow, deliberate, testing how deep he could take me. The wet click of his tongue filled the air as he worked them eagerly, the salt-tang of sea air mixing with his breath while the cool tile bit into my bare knees. I withdrew them wet and traced his lower lip.
“You’re going to keep quiet while I use you,” I murmured, pushing my dress up and guiding his face between my thighs. His tongue found me instantly, hot and insistent, licking broad stripes that made my hips roll. I gripped his hair, holding him exactly where I wanted, riding the rhythm until my thighs shook and I came with a sharp gasp against his mouth.
Afterward I pulled him up and kissed him hard, tasting myself on his tongue. “Good boy. Now get dressed. We have a captain’s dinner tonight at the resort, and you’re going to sit beside me like nothing is happening.”
The long table on the terrace glowed with candlelight and crystal. Soren sat rigid on my left, linen napkin draped across his lap. I waited until the first course arrived before angling my body to block the server’s line of sight, my fingers sliding beneath the tablecloth to cup him through his trousers. He jerked, a soft sound escaping before he swallowed it down, one hand gripping the chair leg under the table while the napkin tented higher.
“If you spill a drop on this tablecloth I’ll make you lick it up later,” I whispered, leaning in as if commenting on the wine while my thumb circled the head. My fingers worked his zipper open and wrapped around the hot length of him. He was already leaking, slick under my thumb as I stroked him in slow, torturous pulls. Every time someone at the table laughed or asked a question, I tightened my grip just enough to make his breath hitch.
Soren’s knuckles were white around his fork. “Please,” he breathed, barely audible. I smiled into my glass and kept the rhythm steady, twisting my wrist on every upstroke until his thighs trembled against mine. When the main course came I finally released him, leaving him flushed and aching.
Back in the cabana the curtains still danced. I shoved him onto the wide bed and climbed over him, sinking down onto his cock in one smooth motion. The stretch burned sweet and perfect. I rode him hard, nails digging into his chest, taking every inch while the sea wind cooled the sweat on our skin.
“Come for me,” I ordered, grinding down until he broke with a guttural cry, pulsing deep inside me. The aftershocks left us both shaking. I stayed seated on him, listening for footsteps outside the cabana curtains, then quickly tugged the sheet over us before the sound could draw closer.
“You did beautifully tonight,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Rest now. Tomorrow the market opens again, and I have plans for you.” Soren’s answering smile was soft, trusting, already half-asleep beneath me as the curtains whispered secrets around the bed.