Chapter 9 – Nicole
It was hard to believe it worked. The plan was full of flaws.
One of which was the late delivery. But by the time the cab dropped me off, the boxes of equipment were waiting at the front door.
I rushed to set the trap, hoping against hope that Cristiano wasn’t going to walk in on me setting up this whole scene.
The next problem, the biggest, proved to be the waiting.
I downed an entire energy drink and gobbled up half a dozen cookies, but I found myself yawning around midnight.
Just when I thought he wasn’t coming, I heard the steps at the back door. The burst of adrenaline was cataclysmic. I was sure he’d hear my heart racing from the caffeine and sugar overload.
Everything happened so fast.
I knew it was his exhaustion from the fight that tipped the scales in my favor. While I felt bad for the physical assault of trapping him, it worked. The monster was at my mercy.
What a beautiful sight.
Heat drenched my panties as I sat back on his thick thighs, gazing at the sexy masked man who was at my mercy. Reaching into my back pocket, I set the steak knife down beside us and used both hands to tie a red ribbon around his throat, catching the fabric hood of the ghost mask under the binding.
“There.” I drew my fingers down his chest. “Almost done.”
I flicked the strap of his belt, shimmying the material through the buckle, but the wheeze in his breath snagged my attention. I snapped my gaze to his chest. The right side was a macabre scene of purple, angry bruises. I brushed the tip of my fingers over the mess, and Cristiano tensed under me.
If there was any doubt in my mind that this wasn’t Cristiano Messina, the boy from the wrong side of the tracks, this bruise was all the proof I needed.
“Looks like your reindeer kicked you good,” I murmured. “Didn’t give them enough carrots?”
“Something like that,” he said tightly from behind the mask. “Don’t stop on my account.”
I caught my lip between my teeth. That injury looked bad. It couldn’t be comfortable for him to be bound, with an arm caught on each side.
“We could make this more vanilla if you need—”
“Don’t. Fucking. Stop.” Cristiano’s voice was granite. “If you set me free, I’ll only turn the tables on you, angel.”
I shivered. This might be my only chance for the foreseeable future to have my way with him. “Fine, but your safe word is cinnamon.”
“Cinnamon?” he spat. “Ah vaffà, dai!”
Italian. I’d missed the subtle clue the first night in my terror.
Now, the vicious curse was music to my ears.
I giggled. I wished like hell I could see his face. “If you’re in danger of real physical harm, I want you to use it.”
“I’m not using a safe word,” he snapped. “Get on with it.”
Such big talk.
I picked up the knife, placed the blade between my teeth, and drew the belt from the loops around his hips. Tossing it to the side, I held the material of his pants away from his skin. The delicious hitch of his breath made me smile as I pierced his pants with the tip of the knife.
“Cinnamon,” I repeated and tore a cut clean through the material. “Don’t forget.”
A purely animalistic growl was my only response.
I cut another line perpendicular to the first on the other side of the zipper.
Yes, I could have unbuttoned his pants and pulled down the zipper, but using the knife was a hell of a lot more fun.
He would be walking out of the house in a broken, torn pair of pants later… and I cackled inwardly at the thought!
Taking the flap of material, I tore the crotch of the black cargo pants down. Fabric ripped through the dark. His thick cock pulsed under the boxers. I lifted my gaze, let him see the mischief in my eyes.
Large black holes in the mask stared back at me.
I plucked the boxers from his skin and, without looking, made a long cut.
He didn’t flinch. Brave man.
The moment the material peeled away, his cock sprang free, heavy and eager to play. I pulled another length of ribbon, looped it around the base of his shaft, and tied a pretty bow.
There—Santa was wrapped, ready to play with his naughty girl.
“Red suits you. So does surrender.” With those words, I bent over his cock. I meant to tease him with my tongue, but I was greedy, hungry for a taste.
My lips slid over his crown while I grasped his erection in one hand. As much as I wanted to take his whole length in my mouth, there was no way I could swallow it all before I choked.
Cristiano’s groan of pleasure filled the room. He strained against the straps on his wrists, body curled tight.
Having this monster at my mercy was the biggest turn-on. My own orgasm threatened to release as the inner muscles of my core coiled. If I rubbed my thighs, if I lay flat and brushed my clit against his leg, it would have come right then and there.
I stayed put, breathing carefully through my nose and focusing on him.
I sucked his cock deep, lathing my tongue against his smooth, velvety shaft.
“Ma che cazzo fai?!” Cristiano rasped.
The filthy string of Italian was rough and sultry on my ears. It sent a shiver down my spine. I palmed his balls, feeling how tight they were. So ready for me. For a moment, I considered letting him explode down my throat.
But that wasn’t how I was playing tonight.
My captive would have no mercy.
I pulled my mouth free, flicking my tongue against his tip as I gazed up at him.
The monster let out a desperate sound, part breath, part bellow.
“What? You don’t want me to stop?” I grinned. “I don’t hear you begging, monster.”
“Monsters don’t beg,” Cristiano ground out.
With a laugh, I pushed to my feet. “Then I’ll have to try harder.”
The monster snarled, yanking hard at his restraints. I almost wished he would break free, but I wasn’t sure I would survive that.
I slid the zipper of my hoodie down and pulled the long sleeves off my arms. Reaching for my cotton shorts, I shimmied them off my waist. The red, satin night gown that had been bunched underneath slid down my body. I shook it out as I plucked the claw clip from my hair and gave it a fluff.
Kneeling, I tugged his pants farther down his thighs before rising to pepper kisses along his shoulder.
“When I get my hands on you…” he promised, leaving the rest unspoken.
“I know,” I whispered. “I can’t wait.”
I straddled his lap again. Between us, his cock bobbed, long and stiff.
The small red bow shivered at the base. I reached for him, gliding his tip through my pussy, and braced my other hand on the wall of the counter beside his head.
I would have held his shoulder, but I didn’t know what parts of him hurt, and I already felt bad enough tying the wounded fighter up.
Guiding him to my entrance, I sank down on his shaft. I moaned loudly, relishing the feel of being stretched full. The connection was bare. Skin to skin—as it should be.
Cristiano was breathing hard.
I gazed into the soulless black slants, meeting his gaze behind the material covering the eye sockets of the mask as I lifted my hips and drove down on him again.
“Is it killing you to not be the one in control?” I rasped.
His wicked chuckle was full of dark humor. “Oh, angel, if you think I’m not in control, you don’t know anything.”
This time, I hovered over him, teasing his crown as I flexed my hips up and down.
“I can feel how greedy your tight little pussy is for me,” he growled. “How badly you need to come. I can see your muscles straining as you hold back, thinking you’re going to win this game.”
The warning in his voice only made me hotter.
I dropped, burying him deep inside me. Rocking back and forth, I clenched my jaw to keep the pulsing bursts of pleasure at bay.
Cristiano flexed his hips, thrusting deep inside me. I fell forward on his chest. The mask brushed against my cheek. “You’re so tight. So wet. And I feel everything.”
I knew what I was doing, putting him inside me bare. “You said you wanted to fill me up.”
“I do,” he rasped. “Now. Fuck. My. Cock.”
I slid back, my swollen clit rubbing against his pelvis.
“Put your weight on me and fucking ride,” he urged, yanking on the bindings hard enough to make the cabinet base of the island groan.
I did.
I flexed my hips in time with his thrusts. My pants turned into garbled sounds of pleasure as I ground against him.
“Look at you riding my cock,” he said in a throaty voice, muffled by the mask. “Look at your hips, moving so greedily. You never stood a chance of being on the nice list. My angel is such a bad girl, fucking herself on my dick.”
I whimpered.
“You wanted me to beg?” His voice was dominant, full of control. “You gave me a safe word? Well, look who’s begging now?”
My eyes rolled into the back of my head, pleasure coursing through me.
I should have known better. Everything about tonight was me being in control.
And yet this beast opened his mouth, and I melted at the filthy things he said.
But this wasn’t over. I wasn’t done. With more strength than I knew I had, I pushed back.
My nails scored over his shoulders, down the plane of his cut stomach.
“I haven’t finished with you yet, monster,” I gasped, reaching over for the candle. “Last chance. Say the magic word.”
Cristiano’s hard breathing was the only sound filling the silence.
I lifted my hips, sliding all but the tip out. My insides wept in protest, but I didn’t sink back down until a bead of wax fell on his chest.
“Again,” the monster snarled.
I rose above him and sank down, tipping more wax on his skin.
His body shuddered under mine. “More, Nicky.”
This time, I leaned forward and let the hot liquid trail along my chest before it fell on his. The bite of pain melded with the sweet bliss of pleasure.
“Fuck, angel.” His voice was a prayer. “Touch that aching pussy. That’s it. Just like that.”
I rose above him, rubbing my fingers against my clit, and sank down as I tipped more wax on us both.