16. Ariella
Chapter 16
Ariella
I don’t know the last time I was not in control of my own body. I forced myself to eat a healthy diet, exercise, and meditate. To the world, I was the perfect daughter, the virgin wife to be, the disciplined employee—an all-around good girl.
But I couldn’t deny myself anymore. Not when everything inside of me wants this man to conquer me. Even when Nero stops, my body grips on tighter. He looks at me, then cups my face. I know he’s worried I’ll regret this, but I won’t.
I couldn’t say no, even if I wanted to. Not with every fiber of my being wanting him the way I do. Not when I’m staring into his dark eyes and begging him to corrupt me. His hard erection rubs roughly against my clit through his boxer briefs. Desperate moans fall from my lips as I grind my body into his.
My body trembles beneath the weight of him. He keeps my hands locked above my head as his mouth roams every sensitive part of me. Even with the barrier of my silk shorts, I can feel how hard he is.
He lifts himself from the bed, then pulls his boxer briefs down the length of his legs. Tribal tattoos cover his very toned thighs. My heart pounds in my chest, watching as he reveals his very erect cock. His massive length should worry me, but it doesn’t.
The pain I might feel from this doesn’t even register to my heightened arousal. He looks like a Dark God in front of me. My lips part as I watch him move back to the bed. Insecurity creeps in. What if I’m not able to satisfy him? What if my lack of experience ruins this?
I want to please him.
“You’re still on the pill, right? “ he asks, and I nod. Nero has gone with me to pick up my prescriptions.
“Good, I want to feel you raw.” He strokes himself a few times before climbing back onto the bed.
Anticipation builds as he lowers my shorts and panties, revealing myself to him. He spreads my legs before pressing his lips to my sensitive folds. The sensation is euphoric.
My legs begin to shake, and he holds them down and continues to pepper kisses from the bottom of my folds up to my mound. He rises over me and settles between my legs. The tip of his cock grazes against me. I look at the flexing muscles in his arms as he hovers over me.
“Tell me how you want it, Princess. Quieres que te trate como una santa o que te coga como una puta? ”
His mouth lowers to my neck, sucking the delicate skin into his mouth. Whimpering, I mumble a soft “yes.”
“Use your words, Ari.” He growls into my ear before biting down gently on the lobe.
“Fuck me like a slut.” I beg him.
Adrenaline savagely takes over me. I feel transported into a world where desire isn’t wrong. Where wanting to be someone’s slut overpowers wanting to be someone’s wife. I want, no, I need him to take this from me. To claim my innocence as his own.
In one quick motion, he pushes into me. Pain erupts from within me, and a low groan escapes Nero’s mouth. I take a mental picture of the beauty of him in this moment. I don’t want to forget the way the satisfaction of my body paints itself on his face.
There’s an unexplainable pleasure that mixes with the pain as he moves inside me. Our eyes never leave each other, even as my mouth falls open and I give in to the sensation. My hands grip his back, and my nails dig into him. He growls out, pushing in deeper. I keep my eyes on him even when his leave mine. He pulls out of me, looking at the space between where our bodies join.
“You’ve sacrificed yourself to me, Manikà.” He pushes forward and slams back into me. I close my eyes, and he squeezes my cheeks.
“Keep those pretty eyes on me while I fuck this tight cunt.”
Thrust
“You’re taking this cock like a good little slut.”
Thrust
“My perfect little fucktoy.”
Perverse words fall from his lips as he thrusts inside me. Pleasure pools from between my thighs. The friction of his cock inside me. It’s more powerful than anything I have ever experienced. He has far exceeded my expectations.
His thrusts are rough, but his hands are gentle. They roam over my body like an act of worship. He’s calling me his slut but fucking me like I’m his queen.
His cock continues to push against the walls of my pussy, stretching me in the most satisfying and painful way. Tears fall down my cheek, and he licks them. Claiming each one of my fallen tears as his.
In this moment, I am his.
His hand moves to my neck, and he places a firm hold on my neck. I stare up, unsure what this is about, and remember his words.
Depraved things.
He stops and stares at me, waiting to see how I react.
Take it all.
I want him to take it all because I want to please him. I also can’t deny the way his hand around my neck excites me. My fingers rush to where his hand rests, and I squeeze his hand around my throat. His nostrils flare as I grind back into him.
A silent plea to keep going. To choke me. To use me and fuck me as savagely as he desires. I want to lose control to him. His rough hand applies more pressure to my throat, pinning me to the bed.
“Putang ina mo”
Thrust
“I fucking own you now, Ariella.”
Thrust
“This pussy was custom-made for me.”
Thrust
“You’re a beautiful fucking mess.”
He takes my breath away and then releases me as tiny dots appear. I’m sweating and crying. All the things I had read and the stories I had heard- no one ever told me about the highs and lows of my emotions during the first time.
The way my body floats above me in euphoric bliss. Nero squeezes his grip around my neck again. My hands fall to the sheets as he cuts off my air supply. My vision goes blurry, and then he releases me. Pulls my right leg up to his thigh and thrusts into me deeper. I’m still catching my breath when he hits a magical spot inside me.
“Oh God.” I cry out.
My arms fall to the side, and my body feels like it might float up into oblivion. Just when I think I might pass out from the whirlwind of emotions, Nero lifts my hips, slides his cock out to the tip then pounds into me again.
Foreign noises fall from my lips.
I’m satiated, but I want more.
“I can’t be gentle.” He warns, his lips coming inches from mine.
“Don’t stop,” I beg.
He pulls out of me and flips me to my stomach. I cry out when I feel the pain at the base of my neck where he’s gathered all my hair into his fist.
He pulls me up until I’m on all fours, and I push my ass back for him.
“You’re such a good girl,” he growls in satisfaction.
Anywhere his mouth can reach, he kisses and bites. This new angle has his cock hitting somewhere much more profound than he had before. I scream his name, and liquid heat courses from inside me down my thighs. He continues to pound into me until I think it will never end.
“I can’t get enough of you.”
Thrust
“I want to fuck you all day.”
Thrust
“Break you like a doll.”
Thrust
“You belong to me.”
I can barely register his words in my state of disorientation. My body is seconds away from giving out. He slams into me, his firm abs rippling against my ass.
His hips jerk, and his cock spasms inside me. With his loud grunt comes a warm liquid sensation that fills me. He holds me up by my hair and moves his hips in circles, grinding into me. When he finally releases me, I fall forward and slump to the bed. His fingers glide over my entrance as he gathers his cum and pushes it back into me.
“I want every ounce of my cum inside you.”
He turns me so I’m facing him. Through the haze of my orgasm, I swear there is an angelic glow around him. I reach up to touch his face. My eyes flutter, and I can’t fight the exhaustion. I can’t distinguish the dream grasping for me from the reality in front of me. I pray it’s in the physical realm and not a figment of my imagination when I feel his soft lips press a light kiss to my forehead.
I awake to find Nero playing with a loose tendril of my hair. Immediately, I feel a superficial panic about the way I look, but my body is too sore to react. I woke up several times and found myself grinding into him.
My throbbing pussy is desperate for him to fill me up. The pain and pleasure were addicting. I had never been addicted to anything, but this dick was my new kryptonite.
He fucked me again, and again, and again. Pulling out multiple orgasms. Every single time rougher than before. He’d choke me harder, fuck me longer, and put my body in every position possible. Sex with Nero would be added to the list of most extreme workouts I have ever done.
The best part of it was the aftermath, where he’d clean me up and pull me into his arms. His warm body against mine feels safe, like a magnet calling me into him. I look into his dark eyes and cup his face in my hand. I can’t stop touching him. My cold feet find the warmth of his leg, and he hisses in response. He pulls away, but I grab on tighter and pull myself back into his chest.
“No. Don’t go yet.” I plead.
Jesus, do I sound desperate?
I feel his muscles flex under my embrace before he softens his body into mine.
“I fuck you one time, and you can’t let go.” He teases.
If he only knew how true his words are. I feel like I physically can not let go of this man. Which sucks because I know there are heavy conversations awaiting us. How do we go back to normal after this? Does he want normal? Do we detach and move on like nothing happened?
I want to ask a million questions, but I also don’t want to hurt my own feelings when I can’t face the truth. Emotions rise in my throat, and I push them down.
I am a fucking crybaby through and through. I accepted that fact about myself, but I don’t want Nero to think I’m clingy, so I release him when he makes another attempt to remove himself from the bed.
Before I can even feel the empty bed, he pulls me up to him. His strong arms lift me, and I wrap mine around his shoulders while my legs straddle his middle.
Our naked bodies are pressed against each other as he carries me into the bathroom. The bathroom in this room is smaller than the bathroom in my room. He sets me down on the sink and starts the shower. He pulls some towels out of the cabinet and places them on the toilet next to the shower before coming back to me.
He picks me up again and carries me into the shower with him. Water hits his back, and I watch his head fall seductively under the stream. He keeps a firm grip on my thighs and refuses to let me down.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what?” He asks.
“For being so nice to me.” I bit my lip.
He doesn’t say anything.
Thank you?
God, I need to shut up.
I want nothing more than to be invisible because I can’t read the look in his eyes. Is it concern? Maybe it’s regret.
Please don’t let it be regret.
Nero removes his arms from under my thighs and slowly sets me down on my feet. He remains in complete control, washing my body with delicate precision.
I’m also somewhat in control because it takes a lot for me not to tell him that men’s ten-in-one body wash is not great for my hair. I convince the control freak in me to savor the moment instead. Smelling like him meant I got to keep him on me.
When the shower is over, Nero dries me off, then kisses my forehead.
“Go get dressed, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” he instructs me.
I go to my room and immediately add a leave-in conditioner to my hair, wash my face, and moisturize my body. Catching a small glimpse of myself in the mirror, I see exactly what Cooper was talking about. The afterglow is a real thing.
I smile at my reflection. Not just any smile but a beaming and full-of-life smile. I don’t want it to go away. I pick out a matching pink underwear and bra set, then settle on an oversized large T-shirt. In the days Nero was sick and then the savage fucking, I had lost track of time. I find my phone still plugged in and see it’s not early morning like I thought, but it is already past ten o’clock in the evening.
I comb through my hair before I walk back to find Nero waiting for me in the kitchen. Admiring the intense beauty of it, my eyes roam over his muscular body.
He’s put on a pair of black briefs and black socks that stop at his toned calves. His hair, which is usually gelled, looks fluffy due to the light curls. A small gold chain lays across the fading scars on his upper chest. The only place he doesn’t have covered with tattoos, as if the scars themselves were a tattoo on his body.
Even with his back to me, I knew every inked design on his body—the images were burnt into my memory. While most of the art on him appears to be tribal markings, there were a few distinct images he had on him. Like the lettering on his stomach.
I could only make out the first word, Dulce, which I knew meant sweet, but I would have to Google the second word. The other image, the one staring at me, was a large winged creature on his back. It looked like something dark and mythological. The face and horns resemble a demon, but the hair was long, and the wings were outstretched, resembling a bat.
Nero looks back when he catches me staring at him. Setting down the two bowls of oatmeal, he turns to face me. My face flushes red when he looks at me like this.
He gives me all his attention as he takes his time looking over every inch of me. Like, I’m something special to look at. Our eyes remain locked on each other when he sits down on the stool beside him. His hand taps his muscular thigh.
“Come here.”
I walk straight to him, and he pulls me up and onto his lap.
“What are you doing?” I ask him, but he just brings the bowl to him and lifts the spoon to my mouth.
“You need to eat something.”
I open my mouth and take a bite.
There’s a fire in his eyes as he watches me take every bite. I can taste the maple syrup, brown sugar, and the sweet bits of fresh apples he’s mixed in. Him feeding me feels so erotic. I wrap my lips around the spoon and let out a small moan as I look straight into his eyes.
“Good Girl.” He growls when I finish the bowl.
I keep my arm around him and watch as he feeds himself next. He pulls my legs up to his other thigh and rubs my bare legs as he finishes his oatmeal. When I check the clock, I see four ones staring at me.
“Oh my god, it’s 11:11. Make a wish.” I stay excited. My body bounces up, and Nero pulls me back down into him.
“What did you wish for, Manikà?” He asks, and I shrug, suddenly feeling very childish about the sentiment.
I wished for you.
But I don’t say that. For once, my mouth is shut because, by the looks of it, Nero is ready to have that intense conversation.
“We need to talk about what happened.”
Here we go. Keep it together, Ariella.
I prepare myself for the worse. For him to tell me that this was a one-time thing. To hear the regret.
“If we’re going to do this, Ari, we need to have a clear line of communication at all times.”
The relief that washes over me is surreal.
If we’re going to do this.
“Okay.” I agree, turning my focus to him.
“I’m more than happy to give you anything you need from me, but I also need you to know that emotionally, I can’t commit to you. To anyone, really. Have you ever been in something where there were no strings attached?”
“No,” I answer truthfully.
He strokes the edge of my jaw with his knuckles. My nipples harden beneath the fabric of my bra.
“I want you, Ari. I want you for me, but I’m not sure you’ll like the things I’m into.”
“Like the dominant and submissive stuff?” I ask.
“Yes, like the dominant and submissive stuff.”
“I looked it up after you told me about it. I had an idea before, well, before you know.” My cheeks flush, and he smiles at me.
“And? What did you find?” he asks.
I pause to think about it before I reply.
“I read over different kinks and fetishes. One article I read explained the roles of the Dominant and how he mostly works to gain the submissive’s trust.”
“Did any of those kinks interest you?”
He keeps his eyes on me as he continues to massage his fingers into my legs, working up to my upper thigh.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“What turns you on?” he asks, his voice low and husky.
His hand moves higher, massaging up my inner thigh, his rings slightly grazing my folds. I suck in a breath and keep my eyes on his. I think back to the hours of reading I did on Reddit while caring for him.
“There was an article on Praise Kinks. I notice you do that. Call me a good girl, or tell me I’m beautiful.” I bit down on my lower lip.
“And did you like that?” His rough hands leave my thighs. His knuckles trail down my outer calf, and he rubs light circles around my ankle.
“Yes, Sir,” I reply, watching as the words unravel him.
I see it in his eyes, the way they darken when I call him that. It excites me.
“What about when I call you my whore?”
I shift slightly on his lap, and the small groan he lets out causes blood to flow to my clit. He pulls my face to his, and I nod slightly.
“Use your words, Manikà.”
“Yes. I like it when you call me your whore.” I confess.
“Is it weird I like that?” I say immediately after.
My hands spring up to cover my face. Why was it so embarrassing talking about this? Nero pulls my hands from my face.
“There’s nothing weird about you. Your body wants what it wants, and I want to be the one to give you that.”
My heart aches at how perfect he is. How he makes me feel everything at once. Sexy, smart, and confident.
“I want you to make a list of the things you want and things you don’t want. Boundaries are important for this to work.” His hands move to my feet, where he gently massages the arch.
“Mmmm. What if I don’t know what exactly I want? I’ve only ever been with you.” I ask.
“Then we can explore. I’ll ask, and you tell me if it’s too much.”
“What kind of things would we be exploring?” I ask in a whisper.
He pushes my hair behind my ear. The delicate touch sends shivers down my spine.
“Things that the world might see as wrong, but for you, they feel right.”
My eyes feel heavy, and I let out a small sigh.
“Okay,” I say, dropping my head to his shoulder.
I was horny, but I was also exhausted, and exhaustion was winning. Nero kisses the top of my head.
“Nothing is really bad or good, Ari. It’s not about one versus the other. I can do bad things to you, and you’re still my good girl.”