8. Vanya
8
VANYA
H is fingers in my hair make me wild.
No one ever has dared to treat me this way. Tugging my head back, being forceful but in the most affectionate way.
Most of the men I’ve hooked up with or tried to be with were weak, intimidated by me.
They act tough until I take a step forward and they don’t want anything to do with me. As if a woman taking the lead is somehow shameful. That’s the problem with being in charge. Being in control.
They want a submissive, demure woman.
And I’m anything but.
Ciro Diamante is another breed of man, one I have never encountered before. He tests me, challenges me, but expects me to snap right back. Every play I throw at him, he returns.
It makes me insane most of the time, trying to keep up.
And it makes me fucking hot. The way he resists with his eyes, but obeys orders. I know I cannot break him. Nothing can.
Then he smiles…my God that smile.
It pisses me off. Turns me on.
Ciro pulls my head back, grazing lips across my throat, drawing a low moan from my lips. Turning my head, I nip at his ear, fighting back just a bit. In response, his hand swoops around my waist, pressing me to him, pinning me to the wall as he releases my hair, cupping my chin possessively and tilting my head farther to kiss my neck.
I tense, pushing back, and his grip tightens, lower.
Never in my life have I let a man grab me by the throat. But something about the gentle way his fingers clench, brushing my skin. It’s pure fire.
Closing my eyes, I let my head loll as his teeth devour my neck, my ear lobe. Lower, he licks and sucks along my collarbone, igniting every nerve in my body with heat and desire.
The tight wound tension and control I keep over myself slips, my stomach turning a flip, my center flooding with a tingling sensation. If I were wearing panties, they would be drenched.
“You…”
“What about me?”
“Make me…” I gasp, rolling my hips against him.
“Oh, I will make you…”
“What will you make me?” I whisper, dragging nails down his back.
“Beg,” he breathes into my ear.
Fuck.
I need him. So badly.
I want him to take me, to bend me over the couch right now and fuck me until I scream. But something inside me clamps down, refuses to let me say those words.
Stupid control!
It’s like nuclear warfare between my pussy, my heart, and my head. Each one wants something different. To be clear, they all want sex…
But my heart warns me against giving myself to this man.
My head says he is more than dangerous. That he will run the first chance he gets. Or betray us.
Fuck it.
I’m a little drunk. A lot turned on.
So I bite his lip and he lets out a deep, surprised moan.
“You make me fucking nuts, Vanya.”
“This coming from the man who drives me insane on a daily basis?” I growl right back at him, slapping his face gently with one hand, leaving it pressed there as I push him back down onto one of the couches. Settling next to him, I drag my lips down his jawline, back to his lips.
I can see how hard he is through his pants and the sight of that length makes my mouth water. I need to taste him.
But he has other plans. Pulling me on top of him, he rucks up my skirt, cupping my ass cheeks as I grind down on him, lashing his tongue with mine in a deep, intimate kiss. A shocking slap as one palm strikes my ass, then another, setting me aflame inside. Everything he does is a shock to the senses.
“You daring prick,” I whisper viciously into his lips as I take them once more, our tongues dancing. As I pull back, I tear his shirt open, popping several buttons. His chest is exactly as I remember, muscular, chiseled. My fingertips and nails explore, pebbling his smooth skin. There are some scars, more than there were when I sent him away, I know this. Some are still pink, fresh. And I am the reason he got them.
Something about that fact, and the look in his eye as I explore them, amplifies my desire.
He survived my challenge, my test.
Ciro is strong, stronger than I could imagine. And I want to feel that strength, taste that power. More than this, I want him to make me do it.
A moan slips through my lips as his fingers caress between my ass cheeks, spreading me apart and letting him know just how turned on I am.
“Fuck…you’re not wearing?—”
“Anything underneath. No.”
And I am soaked for him. Rising, I let his hands guide me as I turn, sitting down on his lap, sliding my ass along the length of him through his pants. Seeing it in the shower, feeling it in the closet at the estate, I have a sense of how big he is, but pressing into me, it feels even bigger, filling my ass cleft from my opening to my lower back.
To feel it inside me, filling me, stretching me to the limit. I almost cannot stand it, to hold back. It sends a thrill through me that is only matched by the sensation of his fingers drifting down around me as he pulls me close, slipping down between my thighs.
Two of them slip past my clit with a feather light touch, sending shivers through me before slipping so easily into me. The rush of pleasure has me gasping, tossing my head back against his shoulder.
Another hand cups up under my breasts, popping them out of my tight dress and squeezing sensually. Fingertips pinch my hardening nipples, the chilly air of the back room cooling my scalding skin.
Turning my head, I bite at his neck and he pinches harder, enough to make me cry out.
“You fucking asshole,” I growl, my hands slamming down onto his hips below me, sliding up under his shirt and then down into the waistline of his pants. I can barely get a hand underneath me, palming the shaft of his cock, gripping his balls a little too tightly.
“Who’s the asshole now?” he grunts, flexing to my touch.
“Still you, because you won’t let me—” I lose all track of what I’m saying as he closes one hand around my neck, the other curling deeply inside me, pressing into the sweetest spot. I’m fucking helpless in his grasp, my legs locked around the outside of his, my hands pinned between us. The lack of control is…
Fucking delicious.
Waves of pleasure ripple through me, as much from the thought of him dominating me as the feeling of his long fingers pumping in and out of me. The palm of his hand rubs against my front, tantalizing the apex of my pleasure, zinging jolts of ecstasy up my spine, into my toes and fingertips.
“Damn you, Diamante…”
“Ah, ah,” he growls into my ear, circling those fingers in a spiral, making my brain melt.
Each time I try to speak, to fight back, he changes the pace, the pressure, and I’m reeling. It’s going to make me lose my mind if I do not come soon.
A moaning growl escapes my lips as another torrent of bliss rolls through my core.
“You feel incredible.”
“You have no idea,” I grit through my teeth.
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It sounds like a promise. I am going to kick your ass if you do not fuck me!”
“Not yet. I need you to do two things first.”
Another shuddering cry blasts out of me and he tightens his grip on my torso with his arm, his fingers massaging my neck and jaw.
“What?”
“I want you to ask me, to beg me. And I want you to come.”
“How dare you talk to me like that?” The words are barely audible, my incredulity lost in the swells of torturous pleasure.
“How dare you drag me into this back room and expect me to be your fucking play toy?” he snaps right back. “You think you own me?”
“I think you want me to.”
“Only after I make you mine.” His voice barely makes a sound, so soft that I am not sure I heard him over my heaving chest.
But whether he said it or not, I am melting in his hands. Coming undone.
No one has ever done anything like this to me. Taken me and made me come.
And I want to fight it, to drive my desire higher, my anger and lust. But my body and my heart are lost in the undertow of Ciro Diamante.
I am his, at least for tonight.
For this moment.
If I could move, I would rip his pants down, drive my hips over him and take every inch of him inside me. Ride him until he fills me with his love.
Instead, I am trapped, holding on for dear life as my legs begin to quiver and quake.
Every attempt to please him is moot. Any attempt to do anything but bite my lip and wait for the rush is pointless.
The intense rapture surging through my core is scintillating, mind-blowing. He knows exactly where to touch me, how to spread me apart, how to push my button. Literally.
It’s almost infuriating how good he is.
His breath on my neck adds another layer to the ascent, another sensation to consume me.
Pressure rises, higher than I have ever felt. My voice screams out, ragged and unbridled.
“Ciro, fuck, oh, I am going to?—”
“Yes… Yes .”
The world tips, throwing me out into a raging storm, comets bursting behind my closed eyelids.
“Ciro!” I scream his name, my king, my god.
“You feel so fucking good, so fucking wet…” His words are distant in the rush of blood in my ears, but they only extend the flood of heavenly bliss destroying my world.
I can feel my legs going weak, my center erupting as I clench and tighten around his fingers. The only thing that could feel better than this would be his dick, driving into me.
And I want it so bad.
But I still can’t move. Mostly because of the aftershocks, shivering through me as much as his grip on my body. When I finally gain enough control of my limbs, he lets me turn over, rubbing my exposed nipples on his chest, licking the cleft between his rock-hard pecs.
“You…” I glare, shaking my head. And he just sits there and smiles at me. Smug bastard.
Instantly, I’m fired up again, this time a little ticked. He wants to play?
Sliding down I pop the button on his pants before he can stop me, dragging them down and drawing him out. Every rigid inch of him standing erect in my hand. Licking my lips once, I lock eyes with him and swallow him.
His skin is silk soft on my tongue, red-hot and throbbing.
Tilting my head I take him deeper into my throat and I watch his eyes bug out, his mouth dropping open in surprise. With a little wag of my head, I circle with him seated to the hilt, the muscles of his stomach tight and twitching.
Then I suck in my cheeks, pulling him out across my tongue, through pursed lips.
His eyes flutter closed, his hands reaching for my head. I slap them away, clawing nails into his abdomen for good measure. The sharp cry of delight and shock make me grin around the massive girth of his shaft, once again deep in my throat.
Harder, faster, I pump up and down on him, wrapping my fist around the base of him to squeeze him. Each time he attempts to reach for me, I simply pinch one of his balls, shaking my head and making him cry out or moan. But it’s the growing look of irate disbelief on his face that gives me so much satisfaction.
I feel him tighten as I continue, his hips setting a rhythm to my lips, and I know he will finish soon. I will make sure of it.
His perfect chest heaves, rising faster.
My lips suck him in, slick and soaked.
And then he does the unthinkable. He sits up hard, fast. Grabs my hair to pull me away from him. Lifting me up with one hand as he rushes toward the bar on the other side of the room. There he plants me down, spreading my legs.
“Yes…”
“No.” But he says it with a smile.
And then his fingers are in me again, spreading me, spearing me deeply. All I can do is groan into his lips as he kisses me deeply again, holding me around the waist as he drives me toward another unraveling.
My hand finds him again, wrapping tightly around him and refusing to let go. If he wants to do it this way, then fine.
But I will not let him win.
Even if I do not exactly understand the rules of this little game. I must retaliate.
None of this has gone to plan, although I am the one who dragged him back here. But it could not be more fun, more satisfying. Ciro has a way of twisting anything I throw at him and making it his own.
So I will play along. Make him mine.
I let go of any other thought, stroking his shaft, bucking my hips in time with his pulsing fingers. Our lips lock, our tongues branding each other.
In no time, we are panting, sweating, heading towards climax.
My moans turn to growls in his mouth, and I bite down on his lip as my legs tighten, as my ass cheeks clench and I start to unwind. The pace of his fingers increases, thrusting inside me quickly, rapidly.
It hits me like a hurricane, barreling through my legs, up through my chest, tingling in my scalp. Our moans intertwine, our lips still brushing.
He is a typhoon, a storm on the seas. I am capsizing, and the only thing I can hold onto is him.
“Just like that…harder…” he breathes, just before he starts to pulse in my fist, gushing out onto my hand, the floor.
We sit there, frozen for a moment, for several seconds, our eyes locked.
A deep, sharp ache throbs in my center, right between my legs. And I know I need him there. I will not stop needing him. It’s the only thing that will satisfy me.
“Ciro…I want you…” I breathe.
“And I want…” He backs off, pulling away. “More.”
He winks, buttoning up his pants with that smile, that fucking devil’s grin. Then he draws me close, kisses me deeply.
Right before pulling away and casually walking out.
Leaving me sitting there like a dumbstruck fool.