19. Rork
19
RORK
I watch, mesmerized, as Bianca comes undone, her eyes closing, moaning into my mouth. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to lose myself right there with her.
As the waves of her climax subside, I pull my fingers out, holding her close as she catches her breath. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and vulnerable, and I know that this is just the beginning. There’s so much more I want to do, so much more I want to show her.
My heart pounds as I’m hit with a realization that rocks me to my core. When I brought her here, when I set this whole plan into motion, I never imagined that I would find her so incredibly enticing.
She was supposed to be a means to an end, a pawn in my game of revenge against her father. I thought I could use her, manipulate her, bend her to my will without ever getting emotionally invested. But now, as I watch the way her chest heaves as she catches her breath and how her body fits perfectly against mine, I can’t deny the intense desire that courses through my veins and right to my dick.
It’s not just her beauty, though she is undeniably gorgeous. It’s the fire in her eyes, the defiance in her voice, the way she refuses to cower or break no matter how hard I push her. There’s a strength to Bianca, a resilience that calls to something deep within me.
I’m overwhelmed with the need to take her right here, to rip off my clothes and claim her, filling her up with my cock and pounding into her until she’s scrabbling at my back with her nails and screaming my name. I want to feel her writhe beneath me as I worship her body.
But I’m also intensely aware of Bianca’s innocence. As my fingers moved inside her, I could feel just how tight she is, how responsive she was to my touch. Every little movement, every brush of my thumb against her clit, made her gasp and shudder. It’s like her body was experiencing everything for the first time, and it was overwhelming.
I am beyond satisfied that I will be the first person to claim Bianca, the first one to intimately touch her, to feel how slick and warm and wet she is, to feel her come undone on my hand. No one else should ever be with her. She will never know the touch of another man. I don’t even want to know if she’s done anything with another man. I’ll want to kill him if I do—for daring to touch Bianca without my permission.
Fuck, this is a problem.
As much as I crave her, as much as I want to fuck her, I hesitate. Because for all my cruelty, I’m not sure I’m capable of shattering her in that way, of stealing that gift that should be given freely, not taken by force.
It’s a moment of weakness, a flicker of conscience that I quickly try to bury. I’m not here to be her savior or her protector. I’m here to break her, to use her as a weapon in my quest for vengeance. I can’t let sentiment or desire cloud my judgment, can’t let her get under my skin in a way that compromises my plans.
I need to take control back. I focus on my anger, on the bitter resentment that has fueled me for so long. I remind myself of all the reasons I hate Nico Marino, of why I want to see him suffer and bleed.
But even as I do, I can’t shake the image of Bianca from my mind. The way her hips bucked into my hands, the way her cry of pleasure felt in my mouth as she shattered, how her breasts felt as they brushed against my chest. It’s a sight that will haunt me, a temptation that will gnaw at my resolve until I either give in or go mad.
I can’t give in.
But even as I make that decision, I can’t help but imagine all the other ways I could satisfy Bianca. Fingering is one thing, but I know how to bring a woman pleasure, how to tease and tantalize until she’s writhing beneath me, begging for release. What happened now would just be a tease, a sneak peek of what I am capable of doing.
And with Bianca, with her fiery spirit and her lush, responsive body? I have no doubt that I could make her see stars.
But even as my mind races with fantasies, I can see her inner struggle. It’s in the way she trembles under my gaze, torn between fear and fascination. The way her eyes flicker with a mix of anger and unwanted arousal when I invade her space.
Bianca may be attracted to me on some base, primal level, but she also hates everything I represent. She despises me for holding her captive, for using her as a pawn in my game. And no matter how skillfully I might play her body, I know that her heart and mind will always rebel against me.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow, a harsh reality that cuts through the haze of my lust. Because as much as I crave Bianca’s surrender, I know that any pleasure I bring her will be tainted by the circumstances that brought us together. She’ll always resent me, always see me as the monster who stole her freedom and her choice.
Despite the immense amount of restraint it takes, I slowly pull my fingers out of her, her body shuddering one last time at the loss of contact. It’s almost painful to step back, to put some distance between us, but I know I need to. Before I do something I’ll regret.
The room is silent as she sits on the bed, not even bothering to cover herself up. She stares at me, and it takes all of my self-control to not look down at that beautiful pussy of hers, to not bury my face in between her legs and lap up her juices. I bet she tastes so good.
Speaking of that…
I can’t help but taunt her a little. While holding her gaze, I bring my gleaming fingers to my lips, licking them clean, savoring the taste of her arousal.
“Rork,” she gasps, her eyes widening in shock, cheeks flushing a deep crimson. She looks so stunned and mortified, it’s almost comical. “W–What are you doing?”
I smile slowly, savoring her reaction. “Tasting you,” I reply, my voice low and teasing. “You taste incredible , Bianca.”
Her mouth opens and closes like she’s trying to find the words but can’t quite manage it. “I–I can’t believe you just?—”
“Oh, believe it,” I interrupt, my grin widening. “Sweet dreams, Bianca.” I can’t help but let a bit of amusement seep into my voice.
“You’re unbelievable,” she mutters, finally finding her voice. She tries to sound angry, but her voice is too breathless, too affected by what just happened.
I chuckle, stepping back and heading toward the door. “We’ll see how you feel about it tomorrow.”
She stares at me, her expression a mix of shock, embarrassment, and something else—something that tells me she won’t be able to stop thinking about this moment. About us.
Before I close the door behind me, I give her one last look, my eyes lingering on her flushed face, her lips still parted in surprise.
She just watches me leave, rendered speechless once more. As the door clicks shut and locks, the taste of her still lingers on my tongue. The memory of her pleasure, the way her body responded to me, is imprinted in my mind.
I head straight for the shower, my mind racing with thoughts of Bianca. The taste of her still lingers on my tongue, and the memory of her cries of pleasure echo in my ears. Stripping off my shorts and underwear, I step under the hot spray, hoping to wash away the lingering tension.
But it’s useless.
The water cascades over me, soaking my hair and running down my body, but it does nothing to calm the storm raging inside. I lean my forehead against the cool tile, steam rising around me, my thoughts consumed by her—her softness, her responsiveness, the way she fell apart under my touch. I can still feel her, smell her, hear her moans of pleasure.
“What am I going to do with you, Bianca?” I mutter to myself, the question hanging in the steamy air. I wrestle with my thoughts, torn between wanting to protect her and an overwhelming desire to possess her completely.
Despite my best efforts to control myself, my body betrays me. My hand drifts down, wrapping around my throbbing erection. I close my eyes, the memory of her flushed face, her gasps, her body writhing under my touch fueling the fire inside me.
“Fuck,” I groan, the word lost in the sound of the water. I start stroking myself, slow and deliberate at first, but quickly losing control as the images of her become more vivid. Her taste, her scent, the feel of her tight, wet heat—it all drives me wild.
I imagine her here with me, her body pressed against mine, her skin slick and warm from the shower. Her moans echo off the walls, her hands clinging to me as I take her higher and higher. The memory of her climax, the way she shattered under my fingers, pushes me closer to the edge.
My strokes become more frantic, more desperate. I brace myself against the wall, my breathing coming in ragged gasps. The slickness of the water adds to the sensation, heightening my need. I can’t hold back the sounds of my own pleasure, my groans mingling with the rush of water.
“Bianca.” I groan her name as I come, the release intense and overwhelming. My body trembles, my hand working through the final pulses of pleasure as I lean heavily against the wall. The water washes away the evidence of my need, leaving me spent and breathless.
As the waves of pleasure subside, I’m left with the stark realization that this isn’t just a passing desire. Bianca has gotten under my skin in a way no one else ever has. I finish my shower, the heat slowly easing the tension from my muscles, but not the thoughts of her from my mind.
Toweled off and dressed, I stand in front of the mirror, my reflection showing a man who is deeply conflicted. I need to figure out what to do next, how to handle this tangled web of desire and responsibility.
But one thing is for certain. Bianca has changed everything .