AN: Welcome to the smut fest, boys and girls!
She brushed his lips with hers, those big, lipstick stained lips pressed into his own. He turned his face away from her, repulsion and desire both coursing through him in equal amounts. And shame, for desiring her. She swiftly straddled his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs. She moved her hips against him, eyeing him greedily. She snatched his glasses off and dropped them over the side of the bed, pressing into him and trying to push him down on to the bed.
She sighed against his neck, nuzzling him and licking his skin in a long, sensuous movement, "I know what you want." She whispered in that husky, alluring voice that caused tingles on his skin as her hot breath hit his throat.
He grabbed her shoulders, shoving her face roughly away from his neck. He looked at her for a moment, holding tightly to those slim, white shoulders. And then he kissed her, expecting her to taste acidic and unsavory. But her mouth is hot and sweet.
He slid his hands down from her shoulders to cup her breasts, his tongue still exploring her mouth. He slowly eased himself back onto the bed and she undulated on top of him, moving her body in smooth, fluid movements. Her fingers fumbled and sought out the buttons of his shirt, deftly unfastening them one at a time.
She moved up and down against him, feeling his sex grate against her own. He's already hard. She knew he would be. He thinks he's so mysterious. He thinks he's so aloof. But she's seen what he really is. And she's never wanted anyone so badly.
He grabbed her hips, pulling her harder against him, causing her to gasp sharply. She ripped his shirt the rest of the way open, her hands raking over his chest like claws. His chest is warm and smooth, dusted with soft hair. She licked his chest teasingly, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. Her false ones had fallen off at some point, lost somewhere in Nathan's bed or his lounge room, probably waiting patiently to be mistaken for little black spiders seen out of the corner of one's eye. He groaned, thoughts of protest only half formed in his mind and he moved his hips against her.
She's very nearly half your age, she's Rotti's daughter and she's a junkie. You're a fucking monster, you have to be, and you have to keep Shilo safe, and keep away from everyone. Because you murdered your wife, so you have to protect Shilo, so she can never leave and nothing will ever change.
And she's a fucking junkie and she tastes like sugar and you want to make her cry with pleasure, and lick her salty tears from her cheeks.
He groaned into her mouth, rolling her easily over to press her down into the bed, his hands on her breasts, massaging and kneading the supple, lovely flesh. Her nipples stand to attention under his fingers as he presses into them with deft, circular movements. She slides her hands down his chest and fumbles with the button on his trousers. Her hands grasp at him, impatient and eager.
He let go of her breasts, grabbing her wrists and pulling her hands away from his aching member which was straining against his pants.
He pinned her to the bed, holding her wrists above her head, breathing hard and looking down at her pale, makeup smudged face. He leaned down into her to lick the scars on her chest with a lurid movement that made her sigh. Those scars are slick and smooth.
He let go of her wrists and moved slowly down her body, lips trailing down her stomach. She let out a gasp as he reached down and teasingly tugged on her panties, while licking her lower stomach along the seam of those black lace briefs.
She pushed her body upwards, allowing him to pull her panties down. He let out a noise of annoyance as they caught on the garter belt, and he fumbled with the clips to remove them from her stockings. She laughed, in a breathy way, as he struggled with the clips. Damn, it's more complicated than a bra hook. He managed to unfasten them at last and slid the garter belt and panties down, flinging them away.
She was watching him with a bemused expression, which rapidly turned into lustful snarl, as he leaned down and kissed her inner thigh, running his tongue teasingly close to her hot, tingling centre.
She let out a soft moan as he licked teasingly along her thighs.
He looked up sharply, "Shhh!" He commanded, and she bit her lower lip with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
He leaned down again, running his tongue slowly over her, and his tongue is warm and wet. She claps a hand over her mouth as he continues, her knees up in the air and eyes shut tight. She was breathing heavily, hot and damp against her own palm, moving her hips against him, her toes curling up in pleasure. This was different. This was strange. This was very different than last time. Her face was burning hot as she felt him push two fingers deep inside her, moving them inside her as he continued to lick and suck at her, tongue flicking teasingly one minute, and then slow and languidly the next. She felt her thighs start to shake uncontrollably, and was having a hard time stopping herself from making noise.
A muffled "Mmmmphh" issued from behind her hand and she ground desperately against his face and hand.
I can't I can't I can't...
She climaxed, her body shaking and trembling, as she breathed out shakily, waves of pleasure washing over her. It was a tingling, impossible pleasure that that rode over her whole body like a tide. Carmela Largo had had plenty of orgasms before, alright. But this was a particularly good one, even she would admit it.
Her vision was marred with black dots and she blinked blearily, her body limp and heart racing like a drum pounding a crazy fast rhythm against her chest. She heard him grunt as he slid his pants and briefs off, dumping them by the bed. He pushed her over onto her stomach and she whimpered softly, disoriented and mouth dry. She felt dopey and lethargic, felt his arms around her, pulling her up onto her hands and knees. She groaned, pushing back towards him with her hips, and felt him enter her roughly, making her groan. He pushed her face down into the pillow, his hand on her neck, as he thrust into her. She gave a whimper, muffled by the pillow, thrusting back towards him, matching his rhythm with her own. He let go of her neck and reached around her to cup her breasts, pinching her nipples sharply. Her tangled, unruly hair is in her eyes, her mouth slightly open as she pants, hercheek on the pillow, breath forced harshly from her each time he pounds into her.
She buried her face in the pillow again, and he heard a muffled groan, as she collapsed into another shaking orgasm. He bit her shoulder, grinding against her deliriously, hands clutching at her breasts.
The only sounds are that obscene, muffled sound as he drives into her, over and over, their heavy breathing, and the far off thrumming beat of some Blind Mag song.
He muttered, "Carmela." so softly it was almost as if he breathed the words.
She murmured something, and he nuzzled his face into her neck, still riding her, "What?"
"I'm going to...change my name." she panted, "Don't wanna...be..."
She groaned, as he twisted one of her nipples sharply. He licked her neck, and she tasted like fairy floss, somehow. (Later he might ponder that she probably spilt some form of sweet alcoholic drink on herself the night before). He came, sighing heavily, and biting her neck until she made a small noise into the pillow.
Then he clambered backwards from her, pulling out of her hot, tight and slippery walls. She sighed drowsily, sinking down onto her stomach and rolling over onto her back, watching him with a heavy lidded expression. Her eyes seemed the colour of honey and he looked shiftily away from her, pulling his shirt closed over his chest as he scrambled off the bed. He wet his lips, heart racing. Her grey dress was crumpled and squashed into the bed, and she heaved herself into a sitting position, picking it up and looking at it with distaste. Damn, that dress cost 25 grand and they just screwed on top of it.
He pulled on his trousers shakily, fastening them and coughing softly. She swung her long legs over the edge of the bed and wriggled into her constricting, shimmering and slightly worse for wear dress. His face looks flushed, and she feels uncomfortable for some reason she can't quite name, looking away from him. Her hands are shaking as she fastens the clasps down the front of her dress, squeezing her body into the corset.
"Are you gonna call me a cab, or what?" she asked, tossing her head to flick tangled strands from her face.
"What, no limo for Carmela Largo?" He asked, watching her with a bemused expression.
She flinched, "I told you, I'm changing my name." She cast about, retrieving her panties and garter belt from the floor by the bed.
"Hm." He said.
She gave him a deadly look, "What?"
He touched her arm, "I always thought you were too sweet to be a Largo."
Carmela took a shaking step away from him, her heart racing. She looked at Nathan, in his rumpled, collared shirt and dark pants and she hated him. And she felt an aching sadness. But she didn't cry.
She never cried. Sometimes she thought she was going to. Dry sobs would heave in her chest and she'd moan pitifully. But she never really cried. No tears. It was important. If she ever really cried, if anyone ever saw, she'd lose something. She knew she'd lose something intangible. Something important.
She half ran from his house. He didn't try to stop her, not at all