Chapter 12 #2
I can’t change the past, and by the stubborn glint in her eyes, if I relent now, she’ll always think she can sway me.
This is partially her fault, too. She never indicated she was unpracticed. In fact, every interaction between us was laced with lust, and she never once hinted at her virginity.
She was wet and ready in the dressing room just by wearing the panties I sent her.
Her pinched expression when I inserted the vibrator surfaces as though my mind knew I’d need it again.
I grind my teeth together and take a deep breath to calm myself, but the motion shifts her tight, wet heat around my cock, and I teeter on the edge of losing control again. Her sharp inhale and attempt to free her hands snap me into action. I pull her wrists to the front of my suit.
“Unbutton my shirt,” I demand.
She balls her hands into fists and wedges her heel against my hip as though to push away.
“No. Get it out of me,” she says through gritted teeth.
I release her leg, cup her breast, and pinch her nipple. She gasps and writhes. I groan and pull her balled hands tighter against my chest as her pussy flutters around me.
“You have two options, little one. Refuse me and I’ll fuck you nonstop for the next three days or take off my clothes and I’ll let you rest all day tomorrow,” I say.
“Why won’t you take it out?” she whimpers.
“I will after you strip me,” I amend.
She trembles and commands my full attention with wide, sky-blue eyes.
“Promise?”
She could rip my commitment to shreds with a single look. Even with my emotions in check, she steals a tiny sliver of my heart with her doll-like perfection.
“Will you believe me if I say yes?” I growl.
“I… I want to.” She shudders.
Her response isn’t what I expect, so I study her with as unbiased eyes as I can manage.
With every fiber of her being, she strains to escape the monstrosity lodged inside her. Her blown pupils and tear-streaked temples attest to her distress.
The sheen of sweat covering her body glistens in the evening sun streaking through the windows.
In my haste, I didn’t turn on the bedroom light, but the curtains open and close on the same timer as the main lights.
“Why? I’m a traitor according to your father, aren’t I?” I snarl.
Disgust twists her fingers.
“Don’t mention him while we’re like this. It’s gross,” she says.
I concede, even if her overreaction seems childish.
“What’s your decision, paperotta ? Undress me or spend the next three days on my cock.”
She swallows and closes her eyes, and for a moment, vicious glee rises in me as I imagine all the debauched ways I can enjoy her body over the next seventy-two hours, but she loosens her fists and hooks her fingers into my lapels.
“I’ll do it. Let my hands go,” she says with tons of bitterness heaped into her tone.
I chuckle and tweak her nipple. She squeaks and jerks.
“That wasn’t specified in our deal. Figure it out, mia moglie .”
Panic widens her eyes before mutiny overtakes her expression.
I tilt my hips. She fights my grip on her wrists, wriggling our joined bodies.
Her gasp as my tip prods sensitive organs is enough to swell my pride to bursting.
I enjoy teasing her nipples and kneading her ample breasts for a few minutes, slowly rebuilding the fire in my veins as she tries to break my grip by force. When she realizes how futile it is, she sobs in frustration and shuts down, closing her eyes and turning her focus inward.
I thrust my hips. Her body convulses in sensual agony.
She parts her long lashes and reveals resolute eyes. I gentle my grip and rub the pad of my thumb over the veins in her inner wrist.
As she loosens my tie and opens the top button of my shirt, I work my cock in and out of her pussy in shallow, slow increments.
She shudders and wraps her legs around my waist as though to prevent me from moving. I smirk and pinch her nipple. Her jerking pulls me balls deep inside her.
“You’re evil,” she gasps.
I chuckle and tilt my hips.
“The devil himself,” I rumble.
Shock flows through me when she wraps her hands around my throat. I tighten my hold on her wrists, but she teases her fingers over erogenous zones I didn’t know I had, exploring my jawline and ears with curious digits.
“Kiss me,” she breathes.
I almost give in and fall for her ploy, since devouring her mouth is so delicious, but I angle my hips and grind my shaft against her G-spot.
She grimaces despite the growing blush on her freckled cheeks.
“You took my first kiss, too,” she confides.
I believe her. I shouldn’t, but I do.
I bracket her head with my forearms and pour every ounce of my devotion into worshipping her mouth. She whimpers and duals her tongue with mine, but after a few moments, her concentration breaks.
I pull back and look down our bodies in disbelief.
The minx unbuttoned my suit coat and half the buttons on my undershirt while I lost myself in the depths of her mouth, but the straps of my chest harness block her descent.
Mio Dio , she’s pure perfection. I cup her head in my hands and brush the dampness from her temples before lowering my lips to her ear.
“You don’t think this will be that easy, do you, paperotta ? I can play dirty, too,” I whisper.
And I do. I tease, ravage, and devour every inch of her exposed flesh.
Annoyance flashes through me as her dress impedes my exploration, but I don’t dare distract myself by taking it off as she struggles to push my coat off my shoulders.
She writhes, gasps, and curses, her focus torn between the pleasure I build within her and her desperation for freedom.
By the time she rids me of my tie, coat, weapons harness, and undershirt, we both teeter on the edge of combustion. Her stiff nipples, heaving breasts, hard clit, and sopping pussy weave a spell around me. I never want to leave.
As she pushes my unfastened trousers off my hips, her hands brush against the raised scars on my back.
I growl and suck her earlobe into my mouth. She bucks. I wedge a hand between our bodies and circle her clit with my fingertip.
“Come for me, paperotta ,” I growl into her ear.
She does. Once. Twice.
Just before she launches into a third, full-body convulsion, I lick the sweat and tears from her temple and nip her cheek before murmuring against her lips.
“Mine.”
She opens her mouth on a silent scream.
I claim her with teeth, tongue, and cock as she writhes in agonizing bliss, helpless against the waves of pleasure slamming through us both. My tip spurts my release deep inside her body.
Despite her euphoria, she doesn’t claw at the scars on my back. Instead, she flattens her palms to the ruined flesh and splays her fingers, touching as much of me as possible as she pulls me closer.
With every tiny gesture, she steals another sliver of my soul.
I was a fool to think I could lock my emotions away. She owns too much of me now to pretend indifference.
I love her as much as I hate her.
Valentina Luciano is mine. My wife. My revenge.
My heart.