Chapter 19
Sofia
I’m surprised to see him still asleep next to me when my eyes open to the sunlight streaming in. He never sleeps in.
Yesterday’s conversation immediately comes to my mind; I see him in a different light now that he has opened up to me.
I knew Marco was horrible from personal experience, but what he described was worse than I imagined.
And his mother? I assumed he had a normal early childhood before living with Marco, which was clearly not the case.
He lies next to me, no shirt and his arm resting over his head, practically inviting me in.
But I have conflicting reasons why I want to crawl towards him and cuddle next to his chest. Part of me genuinely wants to chase the high I feel whenever he touches me.
But I’m not safe behind the walls of this castle.
And I know I need to toughen up and try to seduce him without falling myself if I want to get out of this place.
I sit up in bed, hesitating and expecting this bit of shifting to stir him awake. But he continues his slow, sleeping breaths. My heart pounds in my chest in anticipation, wondering if this is too forward. If he’ll throw me off of him if I rest on him.
But I’ve seen the way he looks at me—I know he’s interested.
I crawl towards him, then move my head towards his chest slowly until it rests on his warm skin, wrapping my arm across him. His arm above his head moves, scaring me, but it’s only to move me closer to him so that we’re lying together flush. His hand rests on my ass and doesn’t move.
I freeze, feeling confined and wondering if he’s woken up already.
But being trapped like this feels… nice.
And his breathing hasn’t changed.
His arm holding me in place feels comforting rather than dangerous. The fact that he can over-power me so easily terrified me when we got married. Now? It stirs up feelings in me I’m desperately trying to suppress.
I haven’t been this close to him before, at least not in a cozy, intimate sort of way.
I trace the outline of one of his tattoos, some abstract symbol on his arm that I’ve never bothered to ask about.
I’ve never liked tattoos too much, but his I don’t mind.
They aren’t loud or even very noticeable. Black. Professional-looking.
His breathing stops for a beat, and my heart races. Is he awake?
Then the rhythm repeats and I relax, wondering how long we’re going to be like this and what’s going to happen when he wakes up.
I shift around a bit, moving my leg over his. Pulling it back quickly when my knee nudges his hard length fighting against his boxer briefs.
Oh, my God.
Was he like that before I moved closer?
His hand squeezes my backside and then guides my leg back to where I retreated from. Then he strokes my thigh up and down. I wonder if he can feel my wetness through my underwear resting on him. I’m not wearing shorts, just an oversized t-shirt and a thong.
But there’s no need to question if he can tell I’m wet or not; his other hand finds its way to my clit while the other one stays cupped on my ass. I clench my teeth together to force myself not to groan and not to thrust my hips.
There’s no way he’s sleeping anymore. I don’t think it’s physically possible for someone to make me feel this way while he’s not even conscious.
He has to be messing with me, but I’m too afraid to look up and see if his eyes are open.
I have the impulse to reach for him. Grab his length and give him the same pleasure.
Maybe that would make me feel more in control of this odd situation.
Is this how messed up the two of us are? The only way we can have a moment of intimacy is if we’re both pretending we’re sleeping?
He takes a break from swirling around my clit to put two fingers inside of me. This time I can’t fight the urge to let out an embarrassing moan. He’s being aggressive in a way that’s slightly painful but that somehow only adds to the pleasure. He’s hitting a spot that makes me want more.
Makes me want him.
He uses his thumb on my clit, and I can barely contain myself. I’m thrusting my hips against him, moaning—sometimes small, feminine, sounds—but one was low and guttural.
I feel myself getting closer to a climax with each breath I take.
Traditionally, I’m supposed to be a virgin, but no one really follows that custom too closely anymore.
That being said, I’m not terribly experienced, and I know I’ve never been able to finish with a man before.
I sometimes even struggle when I don’t have a vibrator and only have my hand.
But I can hear how wet I am. I know it’s building up, and then what’s going to happen when I come? Are we simply going to pretend to keep sleeping?
“P…please,” I moan. Not even realizing that was external until his hand pauses.
Oh, my God. Was he actually sleeping?
I freeze up as his hand pulls away from me.
I can hear him inhale my arousal as he brings his fingers close to his nose.
Then without saying anything, he throws his sheets off of him.
I question whether he’s going to get up, done playing with me, but he lifts his hips up and pulls his boxer briefs off.
My breath hitches as his hard cock stands straight up. Maybe it’s because my face is pressed against his chest, but from this angle, he looks massive.
We both stay suspended in time. Neither of us making a move. I’m tempted to reach for it, but something is stopping me. It’s like I’m oddly comfortable with him touching me and not the other way around. What if I do something wrong? What if he makes fun of me for it?
“Take off your clothes and climb on.”
His voice is soft but commanding. Smooth.
I rest my hand on his hard stomach and sit up, then throw my shirt off, and pull my panties down before I can give it a second thought. His eyes focus on my chest. He strokes himself for a bit until his eyes meet mine again. I freeze up.
He analyzes me, then he lets out a chuckle. “It ruins it for you when you look at my face, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I answer and nod my head absently before I even process the question, realizing what I just agreed to. While making eye-contact with him is intense, it’s not ruining anything. “But not because… it’s only that…”
“You fucking hate me?”
No, I don’t.
I want to look into his eyes, to kiss him, to have him make me his. But I don’t know how to express this. And I’m so confused about my own motives behind all of this that I don’t know what to think.
I must have frozen too long because he rolls his eyes and says, “Turn around and climb on.”
I bite my bottom lip, wanting to argue or just simply clarify that I misspoke earlier. But there’s something about being with him in this setting that makes me blindly follow whatever it is he says—like when he told me to bend over his desk.
I position myself over him, facing away from him. Then slide down his length. I grip his thighs as he stretches me out.
“I can’t believe how tight you are,” he groans and then shifts around a bit, going even deeper.
I’m frozen as I sit on him. I was not expecting things to move this quickly. But the way he feels inside of me—that stretched out and full feeling—makes me happy that things escalated so quickly from cuddling. I’ve been craving this for such a long time.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod, still not using my words.
“Then bounce.” I can hear the arrogant smirk on his face.
I move my hips up and down; my back arches in response to how intense it feels each time I land back down and he fills me entirely. I close my eyes and focus on the sensation.
“That’s a good girl.” He pats one of my ass cheeks, then massages it with his thumb for a moment. “Now, play with your clit.”
My hand lifts from his leg to touch myself—I’ve never felt myself so wet and swollen in my life. I continue moving up and down his shaft, playing with myself, but every time I think I’m getting close to climaxing, I seem to lose it.
He pulls my hair down towards him, making my back arch just as much as I can handle. “See, Sofia, you like being told what to do, don’t you? Once my cock came out, there was no backtalk, no being pointlessly combative.”
I pause. My mind races in a haze, trying to think of something sarcastic to say back to him mocking me. But… nothing.
A sharp smack on one of my ass cheeks snaps me back. “Keep going,” he growls, his hand still pulling on my hair enough that I’m forced to look at the ceiling.
I don’t know why I love being ordered around like that right now, but I do.
I continue on, feeling my legs shake from arousal.
I feel sweat form on my face, my back. Time passes as I play with my clit, feeling the annoying build-up and then nothing.
Over and over again. I can tell he’s wondering what’s taking so long.
After a while he murmurs, “Can you come like this?”
I shake my head, no. Feeling blood rush to my cheeks…
Alessandro
I pull her off of me and then get out of bed, grabbing her legs so her pelvis is resting near the edge. She lets out a little yelp as I yank her. I conceal my smile by kissing up her leg—I don’t want her to know how much I’m enjoying this.
I inhale her scent before licking up her folds.
Her back arches as I take in her arousal and notice how swollen her clit is.
Poor thing must have been so close while riding me.
I tease her and trace around her clit as slowly as I can manage, but I’m in just as much danger of losing control as she is.
My hands rest on her thighs, and I feel them tremble beneath me.
“You want to come so badly, don’t you?”
“Please,” she moans.
I love hearing that word coming from her lips. I know she wouldn’t be caught dead begging me in any other context.
“Want me to make you feel better?”
“Please!”
I chuckle, then she takes some initiative by lifting her knees a bit and locking my head in a vice between her legs.