6. Eliza
6
Eliza
It hurts, of course it does. However, everything that comes with Urzo Bertelli does. He gives pain every time he touches me, and this is no different.
Yet, my body screams with need, and I can’t even grit my teeth to contain my moans.
It’s fucked up. I should be fighting him, begging him to pull out. Instead, the low throb of pain is only making me clench around his cock as I ache for friction.
This isn’t going how I wanted at all. My first time was supposed to be full of sweet kisses, gentle words and light touches that make my body sing a pretty tune. Deep down, I wanted a sweet happy ending with the love of my life.
Yet, here I am, being split apart by a cock bigger than my fucking arm. I’m sure of it. Otherwise, how would he be making this feel so good by touching every single nerve inside of my body?
It shouldn’t feel good. I shouldn’t want this as much as I do. Later, I’ll blame this on it being in the heat of the moment. We’re both bound tight, the tension enough to make us both snap. We don’t want each other. Not romantically, anyway. This is just us caving to our need for sexual pleasure. It happens to the best of us.
The way my nipples tingle against the table and my pussy clenches around him, my body is all on board to move this along. To seek the release he just teased me with.
My hips move when he doesn’t thrust. He’s stilled long enough to threaten to clear the fog. Well, I don’t want it to be clear. Not now. I need him to finish what he’s started.
Cursing under his breath, he gives me what I want. Drawing himself out, I feel every inch he has to take away. “Fucking tight. You’re going to make my dick snap in half, princess.”
He’s hard enough that I believe him. Thankfully, he’s not as worried as he’s making himself seem. Why else would his hips move? Slowly at first, I cling to the pull and push of our bodies meeting.
“ Please.” There it is again, that word. The one filled with need. I’m begging this man, something I’d never do if he hadn’t cornered me.
“Please what? ” He sinks his thick fingers into my hair and tugs my head back. The stinging pain earns him a gasp from my lips, but my pebbling nipples pressing against the front of my shirt reveals my secrets. “Stop? Is that what you want me to do? Your pussy is begging for me, Eliza.”
He purrs my name in a way that makes me arch. Not filled with disdain or disgust.
The problem is that “stop” isn’t even in my vocabulary. Right now, it’s the last thing I want.
Fuck, what do I want? I don’t even know.
This pleasure he’s making me feel by the simple snap of his hips, that’s it. That’s what I want.
I tell him, not because I want to, but because his teeth find my neck. He bites me, returning the favor of what I did to his lip. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark. He’s giving me a memento, something to remind me of what we’ve done. A reminder of my submission and the reward that comes with it.
Releasing me, his hand finds the middle of my back once more. Shoving me back to the table, he keeps my body from chasing the pleasure. Keeping me where he needs my body to be to set his own pace, his cock continues sliding in and out, using my juices to his advantage.
My body welcomes the invasion, clenching each time he thrusts. Nerves standing on edge, every shift, every movement, leaves me feeling on fire. His tongue was nothing compared to this weapon he’s pushing inside of me.
I can’t control my voice, or the moans that come with it. Filling the room with each slap of his hips against mine, all the noises flood together like a symphony.
We lose ourselves to the motion. Everything outside of the room doesn’t exist, not now. Not while we’re chasing… whatever this is.
Urzo touches more than just my back. Like he’s allowed himself to freely roam, he leaves goosebumps in his wake. Finally settling at my hips, I feel his fingers against my skin.
He curses under his breath, squeezing my hips hard enough to bruise. Groaning under his breath, the noises he’s making are doing the opposite effect of what I want.
Instead of turning me off, he’s adding more fuel to the fire burning in the pit of my stomach.
One look over my shoulders, and I immediately regret it. Seeing his normally stoic expression replaced by a hint of flush and a dazed stare at where our bodies are connecting is enough to make my pussy tighten.
He looks like he isn’t even in control of what he’s doing. He looks like he may… want me. More than just my pussy, but my entire being.
That can’t be it. I’m imagining things. I have to look away before I get ahead of myself and think something so stupid can actually be a thing.
The tension in my stomach is going tighter by the thrust. He’s pushing against spots I’ve never known to exist. Aiming at them with purpose, it doesn’t take much before I’m crying out, my orgasm hitting me hard enough to leave my head spinning.
“Fuck, you’re going to milk every drop, aren’t you?” He growls low in his throat, and I swear I can feel the vibration run all the way straight to my clit.
I don’t have time to absorb his words or figure out what he means. He rocks faster, thrusting harder until he buries himself deep.
My fingers curl into fists as I feel his cock pulsate against my fluttery walls and the heat of his release fills the tight space.
I’m so dizzy. My throat hurts from the noises that have forced their way out.
My body feels good, but I’m so confused as to why.
This man should not make me feel as good as he had. It’s him, after all. I’m meant to loathe him.
We stay like this, fighting to catch our breaths. Seconds turn into a minute, and with that, the heat starts to seep through the cracks, replaced by an unsettling coolness.
I just gave this man my virginity and didn’t even try to put up a fight. I let him chase his pleasure while giving me my own.
I gave myself to this man. To the one I’m forced to call my soon-to-be husband.
I signed the paper. He didn’t force me to pick up the pen, I signed it. Willingly.
A chill rolls up my spine, and a groan falls from my lips as he pulls out, leaving nothing behind but the wet sensation of his release.
Even worse, we did this without protection. I can already picture the consequences of our actions.
I close my eyes tight to stop from looking at him. I bite my lip hard enough to cause pain, because I should be feeling something here.
Something that isn’t the tingling fluttering around in the pit of my stomach.
He’s going to rub my face in his victory here. He got what he wanted. We’re going to be married now. Good for him.
Instead of mocking me like I expect, I’m surprised when he helps me back into my pants. Then, even more, he picks me up like a newlywed bride.
How embarrassing. Even more so that I don’t fight him. Rather, I tuck my face into the crook of his neck to hide my flushed cheeks.
I was loud, I know. Others will know what we’ve done, and what I’ve lost. I’m humiliated, and sticky, and…
I don’t want to think about it.
“I hope you’re happy,” I mumble against his skin, hoping he’ll say something that will piss me off. Something that will calm my racing heart.
Instead, his throat vibrates with a grunt. Giving me absolutely nothing to go off of, he carries me to his room and drops me off in the bathroom.
Before I can even think about telling him to pretend this never happened, or to ask why he did what he did in the first place, he’s leaving the bathroom, shutting the door with more force that is needed. From another matching thump, I realize he’s left his room too.
Now alone, I don’t dare look at my reflection. I already know I won’t recognize the woman looking back.
A married woman. Maybe not officially, not yet. However, it won’t be long. The way Santino wanted to make this happen the day he put down the order, I’m sure they’ll have someone notarize it before the sun lowers.
Shaking my head, I step toward the shower, and my legs shake. My pussy is throbbing, aching, and warm from our shared release.
I feel sick. I feel horny. I feel so many things I don’t understand.
Hoping a shower will do the trick and wash away all the confusion I feel, I strip away my clothes and hop inside.