Chapter 11 Katarina #2
“Interesting way of questioning someone,” Massimo said, and carefully withdrew the IV from my arm, letting the end drop.
A little blood ran down my arm, but the hot sensation at the injection site immediately faded. Thank God. Massimo pressed a cotton ball from the nearby instrument tray over the trail of blood, blotting it away, and then tossed it to the side.
“He gave you MDMA,” Massimo mused, sounding far more entertained than he had any right to be. He was checking my notes.
“What’s that?”
“Some people’s party drug of choice. Increased happiness, less filter . . . increased libido.” He set the clipboard down and ran his gaze over me. “Unfortunately, you seem to be experiencing at least one of those effects.”
“How did you know I was here?” I murmured. I toyed with the top of my sweatpants. I felt like if I didn’t touch myself again, I’d die, but Massimo was watching me. Only shame kept my hand from sliding between my legs.
“You weren’t anywhere else,” he said shortly. “We have a deal. I need you in one piece to satisfy it.”
“You were looking for me?” I asked. My fingers had crept below the waistband, and I couldn’t even bring myself to care.
“Hmm, yes. It’s becoming a habit. Whatever room I walk into around here, I’m looking for you.”
He stared down at my hand, which was now fully snaked beneath my sweats. “Are you touching yourself while speaking to me?”
I nodded and wet my lips. “Does that mean I have your protection until the end of our contract?”
“No one touches what’s meant for me,” he said slowly, and then his shadowed eyes flickered to mine. “That includes you.”
He reached out and grabbed my wrist, taking my hand away from its inept groping.
I groaned, the disappointment too much for a second.
“Wait it out. It’ll pass,” he told me, still gripping my wrist.
I shook my head. “I can’t. It hurts. I just want, need something, please.”
“I won’t take any of your firsts like this, drugged up and confused.
I want to look in your beautiful clear eyes, little stray, when I take what you promised me.
” Then he brought my hand to his nose and inhaled.
My fingers felt wet still, coated with my juices.
He closed his eyes as he inhaled, as though he were breathing in the finest perfume.
Heat scalded me, made so much worse by this man, a man I actually wanted.
“Please, make it stop hurting, Massimo, please,” I asked.
His mouth quirked up at the corner. “You sound so pretty when you beg. Do it again.”
I had no shame in this hot, desperate place, and so I did.
“Please, take this feeling away,” I pleaded.
He was quiet for a moment and then sighed. “I won’t take any of your firsts this way, but I don’t like to see you suffer, either. Get up,” he instructed.
I immediately complied. He unbuttoned his cassock and pushed it open. He had a black button-up shirt on with the clerical collar, and black pants.
He sank into the wide, leather armchair Blackwood had been sitting on and patted his lap.
“I won’t touch you, micetta, but you can touch me. Take what you want. What you need.”
I wasted no time slinging my leg across him and sinking onto his lap.
Reason whispered to me that I had no idea how to take anything I needed.
I’d never felt like this before. I had no idea what to do.
Then, I felt it. Long and hard and lying right against my center.
Massimo, my own personal devil, was hard.
He was big as well, or seemed to be by the way he was filling out his pants.
The bulge was an impressive size, rigid and demanding even through the rough material of his slacks.
I pressed my core on him, my pussy perfectly lining up with his cock. Then I moved on him. Back and forth, right and left, shamelessly grinding as much of my center on his as I could. It felt like cool water after wandering in a desert.
“Does that feel better, Katarina?” he murmured, catching a handful of my hair and tilting my head back just enough so my ear and throat were exposed to him.
“Hmm . . .”
“Use your words.”
“Yes, it feels good. So good. I wish it was inside me, but this feels good, too,” I moaned, moving faster and faster, spurred on by something only my body knew how to do, chasing the pleasure that spiraled up my spine.
“Soon I’ll be inside you and all around you. There won’t be a hole on this beautiful body that I haven’t marked as mine.” His filthy words only turned me on more.
I humped my hips against him, rising and rising, knowing that there was relief coming, so close I could taste it.
“From now on, you want relief, you come to me. You need to come, you come to me. You feel like touching yourself . . . you come to me. You gave me all your firsts. Don’t forget it.”
His final growl sent me over the edge. I bucked into him, grinding along his length. He jerked beneath me, stiffening suddenly, his hips nudging up toward me as if he wished as much as I did that the material between us was gone.
He let out a soft sigh of curses as I continued to grind into him, squirming against his pulsing bulge, drawing out every last second of pleasure.
The roaring need inside me dulled to a gentle ache when I finally sank down on him, spent and relieved.
He opened his arms, and somehow, I was sinking into his chest. Still astride him, I felt his arms close around me, and I was .
. . warm from the inside out. Warm in a way I’d never felt before.
Safe, even.
It was new. It was terrifying. It was addictive.
I breathed out in a long, grateful exhale.
“Better?” Massimo said, his chest rumbling under my ear.
“Better.” I tilted my face up to look at him. “Thank you.”
He stared down at me, a curious expression on his face.
“No one thanks me, little stray. No one, until you.”
I found a smile touching my lips. I felt light and happy. Maybe I liked the MDMA cocktail after all.
“Well . . . no one’s ever helped me, until you.”
Then I closed my eyes and fell asleep.