5. Brody
brODY
She slaps her hand over her mouth in horror, as though the words slipped out without her permission.
“Sorry.” Caterina groans with embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that nearly dying has me thinking of all the things I’ve never done.”
“It’s alright.” I’m so impressed with how brave she’s been today.
I should check if she means that she really wants this. I should ensure I understood her implication correctly, and that I’m not about to scare this sweet creature. But I don’t, because that would mean I might not get to kiss her.
Instead, I reach across and cup her chin, feeling how small and fragile she is. I watch her eyes—like melted chocolate—as I lean in, crowding her. Stroking her face, I move my hand so my fingers comb through the hair at her nape and my thumb brushes her cheek.
“So pretty,” I murmur. Then I hold her still as I tilt my head and lightly touch our lips together. It’s as respectful a first kiss as anyone could wish for, but that’s not what’s in my mind as I withdraw just far enough for her to say something, but she doesn’t, so I go in again. I think of my cock in her pink mouth. As I tease her lips with mine, I imagine tying her down and making her melt until she begs me to take her cherry.
I keep the kiss gentle but firm, opening her mouth, and when she makes a little mewing sound like the cat she is, sliding my tongue into the slippery heat of her. And I hold her in place with my hand as I tease and tempt her.
Every part of my kiss lures her to ask for more. I carefully craft it with seduction, even as I think of holding her down, pinning her hands, and thrusting myself into where she’s soft and wet. Her mouth, yes, but more so her delicious, hidden little pink folds.
But despite the urges of my body, I just kiss her. Patient, gentle, but increasingly passionate. I’m determined to be what she needs. And it takes time, but eventually, she’s trying things on me, too. Her tongue slips over mine and she explores my mouth. I catch her plush bottom lip between my teeth, and suck, and she moans. And then when I give her the space—I could win awards for how careful I’m being—she eagerly tries the same. I don’t know whether to laugh or growl or groan. She’s innocently sexy as she learns to kiss.
I guide her with the hand still in her hair to sit over my lap, and she nestles onto my thighs, though thankfully not pressing close enough to notice the erection straining against my trousers. Kissing isn’t usually this arousing, but Caterina breaks every rule.
Because what starts off as sweet turns filthy. It’s open-mouthed, bites and licks and dragging my lips over her jaw and down her neck as she arches and whimpers. At first, it’s her tentatively resting her hands on my chest. But now she’s pushing aside my suit jacket and grasping at my pectorals, and I’m glad for the hours at the gym because she seems to like my body. A lot. But not nearly as much as I adore her lithe young curves.
I’ve spent three years watching her go to work at the bar every evening, and knowing other men would look at her, and now I finally have her on me, kissing me back. The jealous and possessive monster in me is purring. I have her. She’s mine.
Okay, she isn’t aware of this fact yet, but details. Dark creatures of dangerous emotion don’t care for technicalities. She’s in my penthouse, on my lap, having eaten my food. I’ve got her now, and I’m not letting go.
She makes a squeak, but this one isn’t the good, sexy type. It’s pain.
“Caterina?” Simultaneously, my heart breaks that she’s hurt, and I realise I’ve caused it. In the midst of my need for her, I forgot about her injuries.
“Sorry,” she says as I release her. “I’m okay, it was just…”
A lump forms in my throat that she touches her face where a bruise is darkening her skin. She’s still injured, and I’m awful for touching her in this situation.
“No more kissing where I might hurt you.”
Her brow creases in disappointment. “But?—”
“No, moya koshechka.” The denial is painful, but I’m not putting her at risk of any harm. If I now have the right to care for and defend my girl, that also includes protection from me.
She presses her lips together.
“We missed the movie.”
I think the movie has been over for a while. I didn’t notice. Neither of us did. I grab the remote and rewind until she touches my hand to tell me to stop.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. Watch the guy get the girl.” She likes a happy ending, and she’ll have it, even if I know she won’t want that with me.
“I’d rather learn to kiss,” she grouches, but obeys, huffing a sigh and crawling off my lap to flop into the cushions.
“We’re not hurting your face.”
And I mean it. I really do. I take a deep breath and will my erection down.
She’s had a trauma today and needs to be treated delicately.
But because I am a bad, bad man, a thought occurs to me as I stare blankly at the television. Who said anything about kisses on her lips? I just assumed a kiss meant a mutual one, where she kissed me back. But that was a severe lack of imagination on my part.
“I could kiss you somewhere else…” That’s as close as I’m comfortable suggesting, within the terms of my self-imposed rules.
Her gaze slides from the television to mine, and her cheeks heat. “Where were you thinking of?”
“Give me access to anywhere you don’t mind me kissing,” I suggest, patient as if I’m trying to coax out a shy creature.
Her stillness reveals she heard me, even though I didn’t make the offer at more than a low rumble.
“Like, take off my clothes?” she whispers, embarrassment in her every curve.
I sit forward, gather the extra pillows and pile them behind her.
“As many or as few as you want.”
Her eyes go wide as she looks down at her body, covered in the little top and shorts she’s wearing. Then she visibly steels herself. Big breath in, chin tilted up, shoulders back. If that wasn’t an inward pep talk, I don’t know what is. I silently urge her on.
Yes. Yes, show yourself to me.
She sits up, crosses her arms, and I watch, unable to believe my luck, as she drags her top up, revealing that she isn’t wearing a bra. She makes a squeak as the fabric tugs over her head, and I help her ease it clear of her dressings.
Then she has it all the way off, and I’m lightheaded at the sight of her exposed chest, smooth and creamy skin, little tits, the ideal handful. And her nipples, ohhh. Her nipples are pale berry-pink and round, and a bit puckered. My mouth waters.
“Fuck, so beautiful,” I rasp out. “So perfect. Are you going to let me kiss your sweet breasts?”
She nods, and that’s enough.
A sudden sound from the television makes her jolt, and she winces, touching her battered head. “Sorry,” she says quickly, pressing her thighs together oh-so subtly, and a little smile tugs at her pretty mouth. It’s so familiar from our daily interactions, and my affection increases for my shy, sunny girl.
“Don’t worry.” With a careful finger I guide her chin so she’s looking over my shoulder. “Watch the movie and let me distract you. I’ll make you feel good.”
Lowering my head to her chest, I gently cup one of her breasts and place kisses on the soft flesh, avoiding the nipple as though I’m not aware that’s where I’m headed. I keep it gentle, almost innocent, sliding my lips over to her other breast and paying equal attention there. The smallest hitches in her breathing tell me I’m going about this the right way. She relaxes as I glide down, covering her belly with kisses, until the urge to do more is irresistible, and I use my teeth, tugging oh-so carefully at her. Then love bites, sucking until she’s covered with pale pink ovals.
Mymarks on her.
As gradually as I left her breasts, I return, but this time, I bring those rougher kisses too, and luxuriate in the way her nipples are peaked and ready. I lavish attention on her perfect young body. Yes, it’s terrible that a man twice her age is the first to do this, but I’ll do it right. Give her everything she needs. Her little nipple was made to be sucked into my mouth, and when I hold it between my teeth and lave the point with my tongue, I get a whimper from moya koshechka.
I redouble my efforts, heaping sweet torture onto her nipples and she heats, shifting and subtly but distinctively pushing into my grasp.
“Does that feel good?” I ask, knowing the answer and wanting her confession, anyway.
I can’t help but take advantage of this innocent young woman. Yes, she might have dressings on her forehead, and a bruise rising on her cheekbone, but that only brings out my protective instincts in addition to my desire. She is more than the sum of her beautiful parts, and it’s the person inside as well as the pretty packaging that compels me.
“Yes,” she whispers.
Which is the perfect moment to ease back. She makes a sound of dissent as I slip onto the floor, nudging her knees to make space for my shoulders. Then as she cries out in protest, I catch her heel in my palm and scatter kisses up her calf. I languidly repeat with her other leg, and while I stop at her bare inner thighs, it’s obvious she’s turned on. She’s needy, writhing her hips.
I look up and find her distracted from the movie, looking down at me.
“What about your shorts?” I suggest softly.
She licks her lips, and the space of time where I think she won’t give me access to more of her perfect little body makes my stomach drop with leaden guilt. I’m a lot older than her. I’m the Dark Angel. I’m a wicked man, and she’s an innocent. The fact I’m her landlord and she’s a virgin college student gives my needs an even dirtier edge.
The contrast kills me as much as waiting for her response to my hint.
“Yes,” she murmurs, and returns my life to me.
I sit back, giving her space. With tentative hands, she reaches for her shorts and undoes them. And I swear that almost undoes me, too. Lifting her hips, she pushes the jean shorts down and I can’t hold in my groan as she reveals little white knickers. They have a frill of lace, and make her tanned skin seem even more golden.
So damned sweet.
“I’m going to worship every inch of you.” I sound gravelly with desire.
I’ve wanted to do this for three long years. I’m not known for being patient, or good, but I’ve genuinely believed that Caterina was better off without me.
Now that illusion is shattered, I push her backwards onto the sofa. She’s totally naked, and I’m fully dressed, and it adds to the eroticism and forbidden nature of this.
“Tell me what you want.” I’m a monster for taking advantage of her when she’s had a traumatic event and for forcing her to stay with me. But this is a line I won’t cross. “Say it, in words, and I’ll give it to you.”
“I…” Her cheeks go scarlet, and she presses her lips together. “I can’t.”
That’s a shattering, a rending across my heart. I draw back, the disappointment making it ten times harder than a simple movement should be.
“No!” She grabs my lapel and I still. “No, please. That’s not what I meant.”
I don’t move as she opens her mouth and shuts it again three times, attempting to speak as her cheeks get hotter and hotter.
“I meant, I don’t have the right words,” she whispers eventually. “I don’t even…”
“Say it.”
I think for a second she won’t. But she visibly screws up her courage and says, “I want you to kiss me between the legs.”
“Mmm hmm.” I part her thighs and place a kiss on her mons, above the soaking wet, glistening slit where she needs me, then raise my head and meet her wide-eyed gaze. “Like that?”
Licking her lips, she makes a frustrated little sound. “Lower.”
“Where exactly, moya koshechka?”
“On my… Girl bits?” Her face is scarlet, but she said it, and I’m proud of her.
Dipping my head to hide my smile, I lean into her pink sex, and put my mouth nearly over her clit, allowing her to feel my breath where she’s wet for me. Such a good girl.
“Here?”
She whimpers and shifts closer. I press my lips to her folds in slow motion, open-mouthed and soft at first, then puckering to catch her clit just a little.
“Like that?” I ask, not able to tear myself fully away this time.
“More.” She whispers it as though it’s a secret she’s keeping from herself and only telling me.
I do exactly as she asks. I take a long, greedy lick over her slit and she bucks and moans.
Tsking, I brace an arm over her hips.
“Watch the movie.” I intend to make that impossible for her. “I’m going to kiss your soft little pink folds until you get your happily ever after.”
This time I nibble kisses around her clit. I swallow down her juices, sweet and salty and heavenly. She’s better than anything I’ve ever tasted. It’s a delicate experiment as I try different movements, listening intently for what she likes best. But because of the television in the background, I mainly go by feel. Where she chases me, what makes her twitch, and when she loses her inhibitions and grinds her pussy into my face.
I gorge on her, and when she bucks, I follow, not stopping licking her. I’m addicted to the taste of this girl, and I end up holding her down to feast on her properly. Her cream coats my cheeks, and we’re making an utter mess of the sofa. I couldn’t care less. I devour her, relishing every bit of the evidence of her desire, for her movements to how soaked her pussy is.
Her hands are lost, trying to find the right place to be. Restlessly, she clenches her fingers in the cushions, drags them up her naked thighs, and tries to hover them over her belly.
Reaching up, I grab her wrist and bring it to my scalp. “Hold my hair. Show me where you need me.”
“Oh my god! I can’t…”
“You can.” I give my voice the deep authority of when I’m issuing orders to my men, and that works, because not only does she slide her fingers into my hair and grip, she makes an involuntary mewl. I redouble my efforts on her clit, and when I feel her other hand on my head, and she screams and her pussy clenches under my ministrations, I smile in triumph.
It’s long minutes of easing her through her orgasm. She’s fucking beautiful as she comes. Wild, and uninhibited, pulsing and crying out as the pleasure sweeps her away and I gentle my kisses until I’m brushing my lips over her thighs.
Still haven’t worshipped those padded beauties as they deserve, but I vow I will as I look up to find her with her eyes closed, then open and her gaze zigzagging over me and where I’m kissing her, and then glancing up at the television.
“Oh my god,” she whispers.
Your Dark Angel, I correct her internally. And your captor.
But looking at her reminds me. She’s had a long and emotional day, and while I’d love to see what else I can lure her into asking for, that’s enough for now.
Obviously, I’d like to take that little cherry, but she’s not going anywhere, so I can wait.
“Time for bed,” I say, standing and offering her my hand. The television is quiet and black, the romcom having finished while neither of us were watching.
Panic overtakes her expression of beatific contentment.
“My apartment is ruined. I really don’t want to go back there?—”
“You’re staying here,” I cut in firmly.
“I can’t do that. It’s putting you at risk,” she says miserably. “They’re dangerous men.”
“I think I can manage,” I reply, and there’s a cynical edge to my words. “And I can’t let you put yourself in danger by leaving.”
That skirts around the reality that I won’t allow her to leave me, ever. But perhaps it’s better if she thinks she’s here of her own volition? That’ll make her more likely to fall in love. I think.
Unless Stockholm syndrome is really quick? I should look that up.
I’m beginning to see the appeal of love potions.
So I lie. “Just tonight.”