Chapter 4 #4
“Look at you,” he grinds out from behind me. “Like a fucking piece of artwork.” I tense as he approaches. “Acting so innocent, the perfect mafia princess, but inside you’re just as fucked up as I am.”
He dips his hands between my thighs.
No hiding my excitement now, even if I wanted to.
“So wet. You crave the darkness, don’t you?”
“Yes, Renzo.”
He winds my hair around his fist, and the loose ends trail down his arm. With a tug, he jerks my head around, and our eyes lock. “I’m in control of your body and words. You do exactly as I say. Act without permission, and I’ll punish you.”
I whimper.
“Are you my fucktoy, Fina? Mine to do with as I please?”
“Yes.”
“Louder.”
“I’m your eager fucktoy. Do whatever you want to me.”
His smile’s downright sinful.
“Oh, I want, babe. I want.”
He forces my head forward, and I eagerly listen, wondering what his next move will be.
When his fingertips curl against my nerve bundle, everything goes on sensory overload.
“Stalked me for years, haven’t you?” he demands, dragging my hood between two fingers, the pressure exquisite.
“Know all my kinks, you say?” His middle finger glides across my clit and through my wet center.
“A little nosy perv touching herself while she looked me up on social media, isn’t that right?
” He roughly circles the pads of his fingers over my sensitive clit until I’m close to bursting.
He jerks my hair. “Not yet. Your first will be on my command.”
Without warning, he pushes three fingers inside, raising me onto my toes, then thrusts in deeper, eliciting a small cry. It’s intense, exquisitely so. My pulse races while I try not to shatter.
“Fuck. You can barely take my digits.” Reverence fills his tone, and any concerns about my lack of experience and not living up to this wildly sexual man’s demands vanish.
“I’ll share a secret.” He leans in, nips an earlobe, his fingers working me into a frenzy. “I’m harder for your virgin pink pussy right now than I’ve been in years.”
“Please …”
“This why you sent me that picture? You like being tied up and at my mercy?”
My knees buckle, but the rope keeps me propped upright. “God, yes.”
His laughter rumbles in the air. “My virgin slut’s begging to be destroyed by my thick, fat dick?”
Shaking and quivering, I clench around his fingers, wanting more, the greedy girl in me growing impatient with need. “Please, Renzo.”
“Please what, Fina?”
“Please stop talking and make me come.”
Silence stills the air. He releases my hair and withdraws his fingers. All my senses come alive as I wait for his next move.
A smack on my ass makes me jump, and he follows it with several others.
It stings slightly, though the way I’m tied partially protects me.
He presses his palm over his handprint, feeling the warm burn.
I’m unsure if I like being spanked, but what I do know is, after our day together, I trust him. Blindly, foolishly so, but I do.
I want my firsts with him, even more now than in my wildest fantasies.
My breath catches, the world going utterly still at the faint rustle behind me. Then heat envelops me, his heat, as his chest presses flush against my back, his arms banding around me like iron. I’m trapped in a cage of muscle, his body stealing another demand from my lips before I can voice it.
Get on with it.
Make me come.
A calloused hand claims a breast, kneading it, while the other drags down my stomach, purposeful, hunting. My gasp splinters the silence when he pinches my nipple, sharp and electric, at the same moment his fingers breach me. Two thick digits curl deep, and my body bows helplessly into his hold.
“Shhh,” he rasps at my ear, a command ripe with menace. “You wanted me quiet. So not a fucking sound from you either.”
His palm grinds against my clit with every slow thrust of his fingers, the double assault short-circuiting my mind. Sparks scatter through me as my body ignites. His hard length hot against the curve of my ass, the heat of his skin branding mine.
“The backseat,” I beg, breathless.
His laugh is wicked, cruelly patient. “You don’t get my cock until I taste you. Until I lick your orgasm off my fingers.”
My core clenches, betraying me, betraying how close I already am. God, why did I silence his filthy mouth when every obscene word he says wrecks me?
He doesn’t give me what I crave. He doesn’t thrust harder.
Instead, he drags it out, slowing, teasing, torturing, until I’m frantic.
I push against his hand, desperate, and he rewards me with teeth grazing my earlobe, his other hand punishing my neglected nipple until pain and pleasure twist into something blinding.
I bite my lip, but the dam inside me breaks. Sensation swells and crashes, sweeping me high.
“Come for me,” he orders, voice raw, his lips brushing the tender hollow of my throat.
And I do. I shatter in his arms, riding wave after devastating wave, undone by his words, his lips, his masterful fingers, and the unbearable perfection of it all. My first time with a man, and he’s already wrecked me.
He withdraws, spins me around, then holds up his come-stained fingers.
My lips part as his tongue sweeps across them, and the soft hum that follows is the sweetest music I’ve ever heard. I’ll never forget that sound, or the feral gleam burning in his eyes.
His smirk is wicked and knowing, as if he understands the havoc he’s wreaking inside me.
Watching him lick my release from his fingers doesn’t just ignite lust. It unleashes something far more dangerous.
A hunger to be possessed. A need to be claimed so completely that nothing of me exists outside of him.
He’s my wicked fantasy gone viral.
“Fucking hell, Fina.”
Yeah, he’s feeling it, too.
He licks his lips, getting every last drop.
Turning me on, so I practically swoon.
He prowls forward, and my heart rate accelerates.
“I’m nowhere close to done, babe,” he grinds out.
Then he grips my hips, hauls me up, and with effortless strength, tosses me onto the backseat.
The rope bites my skin as he climbs over the chrome, then over me, filling every inch of space until there’s nowhere to run, even if I could run.
“Tell me what you think you want.”
“What I want is to bleed all over you and the backseat.”
His lips flatten, his eyes narrowing. “This about revenge?”
“At first, maybe.” I soften, though my pulse still riots. “But now it’s about me, and you.”
The scowl that follows cuts deep, and for a moment I’m sure he’ll spring away and leave me empty. It’s a well-known fact he’s not commitment material. The memory of a social media post I once read resurfaces: Lover of many, boyfriend of none.
Why would I be any different?
Something flickers in his gaze, something raw and unguarded, before he growls, “Fuck it.” His mouth crashes onto mine, brutal and consuming, but beneath the violence I taste his hunger, his commitment to this moment.
And right now, it’s all I need.
His tongue thrusts deep, demanding and punishing, yet desperate too, like he can’t decide if he wants to ruin me or save himself.
I gasp into him, reckless with a dangerous, desperate need.
“No,” I murmur when he withdraws.
Then I catch his expression, and everything stills. Every wicked thing he’s thinking is there for me to see. His charm. His possessiveness. And as his eyes harden, even the darker side ready to destroy me.
Eyes locked on mine, he licks two fingers, then positions them and drives home.
I raise my hips as far as the rope allows, offering him deeper access.
He increases the pressure, and I see stars.
“You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” he grinds out. “Beautifully twisted in all the right ways.”
My eyes widen as pleasure crashes through me like thunder.
His gaze darkens, startling me with its intensity. “Goddamn it. I need another taste first.”
I whimper when he pulls away, my body aching at the sudden loss. He bites his lower lip while adjusting the ropes around me, spreading my thighs wider. When he’s satisfied, a dangerous smile curves his mouth. “Nothing between me and you now.”
He pushes me back across the seat, his head lowering between my thighs.
Then the true assault begins.
I read about this. Imagined him there, devouring me. But none of my fantasies prepared me for the reality of his mouth on me.
His tongue is relentless, possessive, unrestrained. He licks, dives, explores every aching inch of my pussy until I am gasping. “Oh,” bursts from my lips, followed by a ragged, “Oh, yes.”
He pauses long enough to catch my clit between his teeth. The sharp pinch makes me cry out, but he soothes it away with his tongue, easing the sting. Is this a warning of what’s to come? Or the price of surrendering to such a dangerously sinful man?
My second orgasm strikes quickly, faster than I can brace for, stealing my breath. I throw my head back with a moan as he works me through it, merciless and masterful, leaving me trembling beneath his mouth.
“That was for you,” he informs me, rolling to his knees as he stares down at me, his lips, mouth, chin coated in my wetness. He slaps my pussy, and the fog from my orgasm clears. Another slap, and he has my complete attention.
My eyes drop to the hand squeezing his dick.
I’m struck speechless at the sight. His dick’s gorgeous. Long and thick, the head perfectly symmetrical and flushed with blood. It’s pretty like the rest of him. Too pretty for the punishment he puts it through.
“That’s right. Look your fill. Know what’s about to break open your perfect pussy.”
A low hum slips from my throat.
“I want to see your come mixed with blood dripping down me.”
He grips my knees and drags me closer, stroking himself, sending a sharp, delicious heat sparking between us.