Oh, God, oh God, Paolo’s middle finger was sinking right into the blood-rich cleft of her pussy, all hot and slick and easy, and beneath him, Cora was practically jumping out of her skin.
There were words choking their way out of Cora’s throat, but they didn’t make it out whole; Paolo thought he heard his name again, but the rest was garbled moans and breaths that busted out as he swirled the tip of his finger gently around and around the little knot of Cora’s clit.
“I found your clit,” Paolo whispered, half savage and half amazed. Cora’s knee ground into his, because suddenly she was pulling her legs open for Paolo’s finger and gasping.
“Jesus – Paolo –”
“Yeah, open up,” encouraged Paolo, his voice coming out at a sinister pitch, and curled his hand down until his finger was sinking with a squish up into the unbelievably hot blood-slippery tightness of Cora’s cunt.
“P –” managed Cora, but that was all she could seem to get out, her eyes momentarily going wide and then squeezing shut as her face pulled tight. Paolo pressed his finger in, slow and deep and sinking, getting the heel of his thumb and the inside of his palm and the backs of his knuckles all sticky with blood.
“See?” he whispered. “You’re all wet for it already. I can put my finger right in… just one… ’cause you’re so tight.”
Paolo let the slippery clenching of Cora’s inner muscles push his finger out again — then he pushed it right back in, fucking it right up into the tightness. Idly, he moved his thumb to caress Cora’s clit, and Cora actually bucked as she came, cussing at Paolo under her breath unrecognizably and squeezing around Paolo’s finger like crazy, the heat and strength of her pussy around Paolo’s finger incredible.
Even with the surreal haze of arousal that had gripped him, Paolo couldn’t help but be a little shocked, because even when she was really horny, Gina had never come so fast at so little stimulation. Something horrible and hot squeezed his stomach and made him lean in and knock his tongue against Cora’s nipple and fuck his finger into that slick heat again and again, even as Cora spat, “Jesus – oh, Jesus, Paolo –” It seemed to go on for ages, Cora coming around his finger and glaring at him and falling apart into shaking limbs and open, flushed lips.
By the time Paolo slowly, carefully withdrew his blood-smeared hand (holding the band of Cora’s briefs away from it with the other), Cora was not much more than pathetic wheezes. She stared at Paolo’s shining wet hand in some kind of horror.
“It’s just blood,” Paolo told her softly, rubbing his wet red fingers together.
Cora huffed. “‘Just blood.’ You’re – one sick puppy, Pablo, you know that?” Her knee jabbed Paolo’s leg weakly. “Kinkier than I gave you credit for…”
Sort of still surprised at his own audacity, Paolo grinned, then scooted away and off the bed to go wash his hand, leaving Cora with her shirt tugged up and her knees open, sopping into her pad. Over-aware that his cock was standing up hard in his boxers, he ran his hand under lukewarm tap water and watched it go pink and swirl down the drain.
After soaping up and rinsing off again, Paolo leaned out of the bathroom door to peer at Cora, who looked drowsy and had wrestled out of her shirt entirely. Paolo’s cock gave a jerk in his boxers at the sight, which Paolo did his best to just ignore, ignore, ignore — to remember that he’d seen them before, and would see them again. No big deal. It was all no big deal.
“How are the cramps now?” he asked, sort of awkwardly.
Cora glanced at him, then fixed her eyes studiously on Mad About You.
“… Think that Midol’s kickin’ in. Now get in here and cuddle me.”
The relief that washed over Paolo made his grin enormous. “You’re so pathetic.”