20. Enzo
Damn this woman.
Kennedy could practically make me come in my pants just by looking at her.
I stare down at her, memorizing every line of her face as she breaks. Her walls crash down so spectacularly that the only things left in their wake are lust and sin.
My eyes trace a path along her heavy tits and pert, pink nipples before soaking in every soft, sculpted curve.
She’s not skinny, thank fuck. But hours of grueling dance moves keep her body toned yet sensual, and her stamina off the charts.
Part of me says to let her rest. Give her a minute to catch her breath. But that trace of arousal in her eyes is enough for me to say fuck that.
“Turn around,” I demand. “Show me that gorgeous ass.”
Fear flashes across her beautiful face. “What?”
If she’s read anything about me, she has every reason to be scared. Every twisted, sadistic rumor is true. “I’m not fucking your pretty ass, Bella.” My voice darkens. “Not yet.”
“Yet?”
I skate a finger between the glorious mounds of her breasts and past her naval. “In one week, there’s no part of this body I won’t claim.”
I know she hates what I’m doing to her. Hates how good it makes her feel. Her tears tell me that. She bites her lip so hard, I have to lick the blood off her delicious mouth.
Not that it’s a fetish or anything. And not because I give a damn about the two thousand dollar sheets we’re fucking on. But because triggers are funny things. Seeing her own blood afterwards could breathe life to some demon in her mind.
And we can’t have that. Not when her pussy is weeping so sweetly.
I slide a finger into her slick, tight pussy. Then two. When that little whimper of hers turns into a purr, I stop.
“Please,” she moans, the feral noise wrapping around my cock like a goddamned fist.
I paint her wetness over her lips before licking it off. “Hands and knees.”
A small flood of tears breaks through as she swallows hard. “But?—”
“Now, Bella,” I growl.
Her hesitation is fleeting. Then, she does as she’s told, slowly shifting onto her hands and knees.
She blinks away more tears as I count the scars along her back. Thirteen. A fraction of mine, but still thirteen too many. It brings the count to twenty-two, though I’m sure I’ll find more.
I trace the ridge of each cigarette burn with my finger, one by one. “Is this what you didn’t want me to see?”
Her head falls, in shame, perhaps.
When she doesn’t answer, I’m not sure which pisses me off more; her shattered spirt or her silence.
I grip a handful of her hair, tight enough to make her gasp. “Answer me.”
“Yes,” she says pained. “He did it so no man would want me.”
I could press her. Demand to know who he is. But no demon will come between me and Bella, and I’m sure as fuck not inviting them our bed.
I force her to face the mirror. “Watch,” I growl. “Watch how beautiful your pain looks to me.”
Slowly, I pump a finger in and out of her.
Then two.
Then three.
Her body takes control, moving of its own accord, riding my fingers like her cunt’s about to swallow my hand as she stares at her reflection in awe.
“That’s it,” I breathe, feeling her tension build as she soaks me to the bone.
I love how she fucks herself. How her pussy tightens. How she’s so close to finally letting go.
“Does my good little girl want to come all over my hand?”
When she doesn’t answer, I move my thumb to the crevice of her ass. The shock of sensations slows her rhythm, but doesn’t stop.
She can’t stop.
“Answer me.” The warning in my voice is dark and controlled.
Whatever logic was left dangling in her mind snaps away. “Yes,” she pants, obeying me.
“Yes, what?” I fist her hair tighter. “Use your words.”
It’s strange how much I needed to hear her give consent with her outside voice. To tell me exactly what she wants and how she wants it.
And to know that no one other than me can give it to her.
“Yes,” she cries out through raw lust. “I want to come.” Her body takes all three fingers deeper. “I want to come. All. Over. Your. Hand.”
Fuck me.
Hearing those filthy words come out of her sweet lips nearly has me coming all over my pants.
Her eyes squeeze shut. God, she’s so close.
I grip her chin with enough force, her eyes snap wide. “Then open your eyes and fuck me, Bella. See what I see. How lovely you are. And how beautiful my sweet little girl is when she comes.”
Her moans rise to cries, and then screams. “Enzo!” Her body shudders in waves, her fists clutching the sheets as she crushes my fingers to oblivion.
I should ease up, but I don’t.
The tip of my thumb presses into the vulnerable bud of her tight hole, as my deep, punishing thrusts rip an orgasm through her so hard, her body collapses on the bed.
An angel like Kennedy should glide down from heaven and drift through a gentle tide of emotions. But not my Bella.
Curled into a ball, the dam finally bursts, unleashing a torrent of raw, ugly, crashing waves of emotions that an hour of sobbing won’t completely wash away.
I want to show her that this is why there is nothing more terrifying than me, and why she should run.
How a week with me will break her.
Will break us both.
Instead, I lick every last drop of her off my fingers and whisper, “Good girl, Bella.”
Such a goddamned good girl.