Chapter 3 – Nicole #2
“Pain sweetens the pleasure, angel.” He stabbed the blade into the carpet, right where I could reach it. “But yes, you’re safe with me.”
I inched my fingers out, slowly reaching for the blade. He tracked the motion, not making a move to intercept me.
“Go ahead,” he urged. “Hold it if it makes you feel better.”
My fingers wrapped around the handle. I yanked it from the rug. The metal was surprisingly warm. The hilt was thick and flat; it made my hand look small.
The candle moved down my stomach. The orange glow spread over my thigh before dipping between my legs. I tried to spread them, but the monster’s weight wouldn’t let me budge. He teased the hard length of plastic along my inner thigh.
When it finally nudged against my aching pussy, pleasure rushed to my center.
“You light the candles, I’ll blow them out. That’s our game.” With that, he pushed the tip along the seam of my pussy.
I was so freaking turned on, and the panties were still covering me.
Cristiano rubbed the candle up and down, stroking my pussy. “Dio, you’re soaked for me, angel.”
I knew.
And I couldn’t bring myself to feel embarrassed.
But there was something wrong with this picture. With the knife, I reached down, clenching the fabric of my lacy bikini briefs, and with a tug, ripped it.
The thief only chuckled. The sound sent another rush of liquid heat between my legs. “So eager, little one.”
I scowled and tipped the blade in his direction. “You told me to play nice. How about you do the same?”
“Fuck, angel, where have you been all these years?” he muttered under his breath, probably not meant for me to hear.
This time, when I tried to spread my legs, he let me. With a twist of his wrist, the candle sank deep inside me. My back arched, and a strangled moan gurgled up my throat.
The fear of the unknown only heightened the pleasure.
Cristiano stroked my insides. The motion was painfully slow, a torturous tease. The sensation built in my core as the inner muscles clenched with each thrust of the hard plastic.
“Fuck, Thief,” I groaned, digging my nails into the carpet. The knife was still within reach, but I didn’t feel like I needed it any longer.
“You like this, my dirty little angel?” His voice was a harsh rasp. “You like being fucked by a thief in the night?”
Screw it. Why start lying now? “Yes,” I breathed. “More. I need…more.”
“Your wish is my command,” he growled.
Lowering himself, he wedged his large body between my legs. Those big hands clamped on my thighs, pushing them open. Then, as he resumed torturing me with the Christmas decoration, his mouth hovered over my throbbing pussy.
Cristiano hummed, greedily staring at me. The thrust of the candle illuminated his dark features for a second before plunging his visage back into darkness. He moved, and the next pass showed the mask pushed up over his nose.
There was only a split second to admire the sharp cut of his jaw, the beautifully cruel twist of his mouth, before the candle plunged back into me.
Dying of anticipation, I was close to coming just from the way he focused on me. His mouth inches away!
He leaned forward and inhaled deeply. “Fuck, angel, that’s divine.”
It was primal. The normal, straight-laced, vanilla me would have expired from embarrassment. But I was too turned on to care.
“If you decide to call the police and have me arrested, I’ll go to prison the happiest man alive, because you let me have a taste,” he growled.
And then his mouth was on me.
A sane person wouldn’t let this happen. It was obvious at this point that I didn’t belong to that category.
But who would want to be sane? His tongue flattened against my clit, stroking with long, languid licks.
“Please….” What was his name? Kris? No. Oh, right. “Please, Cristiano,” I pleaded, though at this point, I wasn’t sure for what.
The thief cursed. “Fuck, angel. I don’t know what’s prettier, you begging or my name like a prayer on your lips.”
I would say whatever this man wanted if he only gave me the release he was teasing me with.
My heartbeat roared in my ears. I was reduced to a panting, writhing mess of sensation.
The moment I tipped my hips, grinding my pussy against his mouth, he rewarded me with a nip of his teeth.
The bite of pain sent my body to a new height. Yes, he promised pain if I asked.
Between his sucking and licking and the relentless thrust of the candle, I felt the release coil tightly inside.
“Please,” I cried. “I’m so close.”
“So, fucking come for me, angel,” he growled and sucked my clit between his teeth.
The raw sensation was too much. Stars burst behind my eyelids, brighter than the lights strung over the tree downstairs.
I screamed his name, body contorted tight, as pleasure rushed through me on a series of waves.
The release hit hard. It was undoubtedly the best orgasm of my life, and I knew why.
The mask, the fantasy, it was complete. I rode the waves of euphoria, basking in the feel of everything I could ever want.
The thief continued to lick my pussy, urging me to the peak before I crashed.
With a hiss, I tightened my legs around him.
He tossed the candle. It landed on my belly with a soft thwack.
But those large hands pushed my thighs up, and he fitted his mouth over my center, sucking and teasing every drop of my release.
I let out a strangled groan, and he relented with a wicked laugh. The mask slid back over his lower face. Only then did he rise and prowl over me.
Breathing hard, spent, and with the delicious aftershock of the orgasm, I gazed up into his deep brown eyes.
I know you….
“Merry Christmas, Nicky.” He bent, pressed his lips against my rising pulse, and then rose and walked toward the door.
He knew my name.
“Cristiano,” I whispered, scrunching the heels of my palms into my eyes. There wasn’t enough blood in my brain to place the man or the title.
When I looked, he was gone. Through the delirious haze, my brain scrambled to realize what had happened. He called me by the nickname no one used. There was only one person. I shot to my feet, my liquefied muscles protesting the sudden exertion.
He was at the bottom of the stairs, turning to walk down the hall.
“Wait!” I called, clattering down the steps. The skin of my inner thighs was damp with the evidence of what had transpired. I didn’t pause, not caring that I was only in a skimpy tank top as I ran.
The masked man didn’t pause. A rush of cold air smacked into me by the time I raced into the kitchen. I shivered but yanked the back door open.
“Tino!” I shouted.
The heavy snowfall engulfed the dark visage. The wind stole the name from my lips. I thought the thief paused and tipped his head, as if debating to turn and face me. But then another gust of wind brought more thick flakes battering down. When it cleared, the monster was gone.