Chapter 10
Francesca
Stefan held up what was left of my bikini. “Francesca. Be reasonable. There's nothing left of this to repair.” He'd been trying to talk me into going shopping for more clothes. But I didn't need anything. If I couldn't fix the bikini, I was sure Giselle could.
“I'm not wasting an entire bikini because you were impatient,” I tried to reason right back.
But that only made him give me a smexy grin. “I'm always impatient when it comes to removing your clothes.”
This was true.
Stefan had made it a habit to rip my panties with his own two hands. Like it was some kind of sexual challenge or something. I'd pleaded with him over the last pair he’d ripped. I really loved them. But—
No.
He ripped those, too.
“Besides, I'm buying you more bikinis. And panties. I don't think you have many of those left either.” He didn't seem the least bit remorseful for ruining so many pairs of wonderful panties.
“I have a few,” I lied. It was more like two. Giselle and Eve had packed a good amount. But Stefan and his ridiculous ripping had dwindled down my stash in a big way.
Besides, who cared if I had to wash a pair of panties every day? It wasn't like I was busy.
Well—okay, I was busy.
In Stefan's bed. And on his patio.
And in his shower.
We—were busy.
A lot.
Stefan and I had been very busy having sex. A lot of sex.
So much sex that I was actually starting to get sore. Not devirginized sore. But still sore. That was the only positive part about going shopping. My poor lady parts would finally get a break.
I mean, I didn't want a break from sex. I was absolutely, one hundred percent great with all the sex we'd been having. Stefan taught me a lot during the last two days.
And he was right—sex did take practice. You don't know what you don't know. Right? That was what my granny always said. Not about sex. We never talked about stuff like that. The only relationship advice she'd ever given me was, “Never rely on a man.”
And up until the auction—I'd done a good job of doing exactly that.
Right now, though, my granny would be disappointed in me. Because at the moment, I was completely dependent on Stefan for everything.
And while that bothered me, I was also living the life of a queen here. And that had never, ever happened before. Staying in a freaking castle with an ocean view, the likes of which most will never see.
Eating fresh, delicious food.
Drinking the best wines and champagne every day.
It had been like a dream.
A dream I knew would end. And I'd have to go back to my dreary, castle-less life.
“Bullshit. You have maybe one pair.” Stefan pointed to my lower regions. “And the pair you have on.”
Hm.
The man paid attention.
To panties. But other things as well. Like what I preferred to eat and drink. If I was hot or cold. And the man listened when I spoke. He wasn't just letting the things I told him go in one ear and out the other.
Not to mention the guy could cook. So far, I hadn't lifted a finger in the kitchen. Other than carrying plates back and forth from the kitchen to the patio and back again.
And while I enjoyed the heck out of watching Stefan cook for me—I was also itching to get into that gorgeous kitchen and cook and bake like crazy.
Stefan had some kind of “issues” about feeding me. And making sure I was eating. Something told me not to push the matter. But I knew the time would come when I could finally have the kitchen to myself.
“Two pairs of panties are enough. It's not like I have them on for long,” I said before I even realized what exactly I was saying.
Stefan burst out laughing and pulled me into his arms. “That's the fuckin' truth.” He kissed me. “I do prefer you without panties.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “If you’d give me a break, then I'd have reason to buy more panties.”
His body stilled, and he backed up slightly. “Do you want a break from our activities?” he asked. His eyes glued to my face.
I shrugged and said, “I am getting a little sore.”
He swallowed and nodded. “Sore—” he drew out the word, “like after our wedding night? Or just uncomfortable?”
I felt my face start heating at his question. “Just a bit uncomfortable.”
His eyes scanned my face like he was waiting for me to say more. “At the beginning? Or during the whole time we're having sex?”
I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him. “I'm fine. Forget I said anything.” I wanted this conversation to be done and over with.
“Francesca,” he said into my hair. Then he kissed the top of my head. “We need to be able to talk about these things openly.” He grasped my shoulders and pushed away so he could see my face. “Answer my question, please.”
I let my head fall back as I sighed. “I don't know. Just a bit in the beginning. And at the end, I guess. It's nothing. Really. I shouldn't have brought it up.”
Stefan exhaled loudly. “You should always bring up the fact that you're having pain or discomfort with me. There are things I can do to help.”
I frowned at him. “Like what?”
He kissed my forehead. “Like using the lubricant, we bought. And bringing us to a climax sooner. And there are other ways to have fun in the bedroom. We haven't explored all of them yet.”
My jaw dropped open. “We haven't?” I asked, making him chuckle. I wasn't laughing, though. I'd thought Stefan had taught me a whole lot so far. “There are definitely more avenues to explore. But we're taking it slow.”
My jaw dropped open further. “We are?”
This time, he laughed right out loud. His chest shaking against me.
“But we can go slower. There's no rush. We have the rest of our lives.” He tipped back my head and kissed the heck out of me. When my toes started curling into the carpet, one of my hands slid down his chest, down his hard abs—to the undeniable bulge in his pants.
“Stop,” he whispered. “We're not having sex for the rest of the day.”
My eyes popped open. “We're not?” I asked in a high-pitched, surprised voice.
Stefan really laughed. “Fuck, I love you. Nobody makes me laugh like you.”
Oh.
My.
Heart.
I wasn't sure there was anything in the world I loved hearing more than Stefan's laugh. And for him to say that—I—made him laugh like no one else—well, that made me feel like a billion dollars.
I placed my hands on either side of his face. “You're actually very sweet. When you want to be.” I lifted up on my tiptoes and touched my lips to his.
He immediately moaned and took over the kiss. He grabbed my behind with one hand and my breast with the other. When his fingers pinched my already hard nipple and rolled it deliciously. “Stefan,” I muttered between kisses. I started undoing the buttons on his shirt. I needed to touch him.
“We're not having sex, Francesca,” he said, nearly out of breath. The look in his eyes told me that even he didn't believe what he was saying.
“Yeah, we are.” My hands slipped down to his belt, and I undid that, too. His bulge had turned into an out-and-out threat at this point. And I loved it.
My hand found its way into his boxer briefs and circled him.
“Fuck. If you don't stop that—” he began saying, but I cut him off.
“I'm not stopping anything.” My hand stroked his hot hardness, and I smiled.
“Francesca, we're taking a break,” he said very, very unconvincingly.
I shook my head and giggled. “No, we're not. That's a dumb idea.”
He smirked and shook his head. “We're not doing anything today.”
I let go of him and walked toward the bed. “Well, somebody's doing something.” I unzipped the back of my dress and let it fall to the floor. Then I pulled my panties down—glad I could save that pair from impending doom at least.
When I lay on the bed, I touched my breasts and spread my legs. My nipples were so hard already. “Mm, that feels good,” I said in a sultry, heady voice. Because it really did feel good.
Great even.
And when I let one hand drift down between my legs to feel the wetness there—“Oh, yeah. Mm.” I rubbed myself there for a while. Playfully at first. And then with more purpose. And that purpose was to orgasm. If Stefan wouldn't do it for me—then I'd do it myself.
Stefan took his shirt off, then he pulled his pants down and stepped out of them. Then he headed to the bathroom. He didn't take long to come back with the bottle of lube in his hand.
After he yanked off his boxer briefs, he squirted some of the lube into his hand and stroked his wonderfully hard cock up and down for a minute or so while he watched me. “Spread your legs more, Francesca. Let me see your pretty, pink lips.”
I felt a wet trickle drip out of me from his words. But I obeyed and opened my legs, showing him what he wanted.
“That's very nice. You're beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Now, I want you to slip your middle finger inside your pretty little pussy. Can you do that for me?”
I clenched hard at his naughty request.
But I still did it. For him. And for me.
Because I was hot and wet. And ready to come any minute.
“Oh,” I said as my finger slid inside easily. “I'm so wet, Stefan. I love this. But I want you instead.”
He flipped open the lube and squirted more into his right hand. “Fuck yourself with that finger now. In and out, Francesca.” His voice had a smexy, rough edge to it. “In and out.”
I did what he asked and closed my eyes at the sensation.
“Yes, just like that. Keep doing that. Christ, look how wet you are. Your pussy's dripping.” And it was.
All of this felt incredible. But it wasn't what I wanted.
So, I removed my finger and brought that hand up to my other breast.
“Francesca, I didn't give you permission to stop finger fucking yourself. Go back to what you were doing. Now,” Stefan ordered while he continued stroking himself. Watching him do that to himself should probably feel weird or awkward. But it didn't.
No.
It was a huge turn-on.
I shook my head on the pillow as I kept playing with my breasts. This wasn't the first time I'd played with my breasts. And this certainly wasn't the first time I'd touched myself down there. But having Stefan's eyes on me—well, it seemed to amp it all up. Make everything more erotic.
“Francesca.” His tone was more insistent now.
I just smiled and said, “No, Stefan. I don't want my finger in there. I want your cock.”
His eyes grew dark, and he squirted more lube onto his hand and then onto himself. Then he knelt on the bed and moved between my legs. Where he unnecessarily applied lube between my legs. I was more than wet enough to take him.
After he tossed the bottle onto the bed, he slid himself inside and started fucking me. “You're a little vixen, Francesca.” He leaned over me and kissed my mouth. “And the best part is that you have no fuckin' idea.”
About two seconds later—I felt it—and I knew I was going to come. Even though he'd only been inside me for less than a minute—I knew I was going to come right away.
“Stefan, I'm coming. Oh.” I sighed as it came over me.
Hard.
My pussy contracted around him, and he thrust into me one more time—
And.
“Fuck. I'm coming, too.” Stefan slammed into me and grunted out his release.
We stayed connected for long minutes afterward—just kissing and touching. Until he finally pulled out and lay beside me.
“I guess our break didn't last too long,” I said, rolling over and laying my head on his chest.
He laughed, making my head move up and down with his chest. “Apparently, I can't keep my hands—off you. Or my cock out of you.”
I sighed and closed my eyes. It felt so warm and perfect. Lying in his arms was the most natural thing in the world. “I'm not complaining.” I snuggled into him even more and closed my eyes.
His fingers grazed up and down my arm, making me even sleepier. “This isn't getting you out of shopping.”
I whimpered into his chest and begged. “Please? I was a good girl. Wasn't I?”
Stefan inhaled sharply. His hand instantly landed on my behind. He grabbed it. “You've been a very good girl, Francesca.” His voice—and his tone—gave me shivers. “But that doesn't mean you don't have to listen to me.”
I grinned and lifted my head. “I almost never listen to you.”
He squeezed me harder and said, “I'm aware. And we'll be fixing that. Soon.”
I tilted my head and asked, “How exactly?”
Now it was his turn to smile. “You'll find out.” Then he pulled my head close and whispered in my ear, “But I'll give you two hints. It includes my hand. And your perfect, round ass.”
And then—
He spanked me.
Not hard.
Nothing that would leave any kind of mark whatsoever.
Even so—
The man—spanked my behind.
“Did—” My voice squeaked. “Did you just—” I had to take a breath. “Spank me?”
And that big jerk—laughed.
“That was barely a tap. But yes, Francesca. I'm going to spank your ass one day. One day soon.” He kissed the side of my face. “And you're going to like it.”
My eyes widened, and I sat up. “I think we should go shopping now.” I scooted out of bed, grabbed my dress and panties, and hurried to the bathroom.
The whole time—Stefan laughed at me.
Jerk.