15. Rose
Rose
V altu clears his throat, stiffening a little and looking away. Whatever display of vulnerability I just saw from him has been shoved back to where he keeps the best parts of him, buried deep inside somewhere, like spring buds under a snowdrift.
But it’s not just coldness that has returned to his demeanor.
It’s heat, too. He gets to his feet and stares down at me with a look that makes a thrill run down my spine, that look that tells me all the things he wants to do to me and then some.
I used to provoke that look as much as I could.
My eyes drop to his crotch, his erection large and hard against his black pants, as if I needed extra evidence of what he’s feeling.
“Get up on the bench, on all fours, ass to me,” he commands in a husky voice, his gaze penetrating.
“Yes, my lord,” I tell him, relishing the feeling of saying those words, of seeing the way they affect him. They turn that carnality in his gaze to pure animalistic desire. The combination of wanting to fuck and to feed, the epitome of being the world’s top predator.
I bring my knees up onto the bench and then get on all fours, my ass facing him.
“Jesus,” he swears, and I know he can see I have nothing on underneath. Roughly, he reaches up and shoves up my tunic until I’m completely bare to him from the waist down. “Your ass is just as tempting as your cunt. Think I might spread you with my fingers and take it later.”
I gulp and stiffen, preparing for him to touch me, hurt me, but then I hear him walk to somewhere else in the room and hear the rattle of instruments and strings. My heart rate increases and I have to wonder if he’s about to do what I hope he’s going to do. The music we used to make together.
“Ever play the violin?” he asks idly.
I hide a smile and shake my head. “No. And I haven’t played the cello, either,” I tell him, hoping it will jog his memory.
“Hmmm,” he muses, and I hear the scrape of something being moved, the sound of strings being plucked, and I’m instantly turning into jelly, goosebumps flushing all over my body. My muscle memory is so strong with him, my skin already yearning for that sweet sting of his tender violence.
He stops behind me and I suck in my breath just in time.
Thwack!
He brings a violin bow down across my ass in one sharp, hard hit. I moan loudly, a mix of pleasure and pain as the sensations flood my body, making me jolt, my fingertips curling into the bench.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and I know he’s staring at the red marks his work has left on my pale skin. “It’s like watching a painting come to life.”
There’s another swoosh of air and then he spanks me with the bow again. Stabbing heat flares up along my ass cheeks, the sting sharp, and then he’s hitting me again and again and again.
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
Each hit harder than the last, much harder than he used to spank me.
I taste blood and realize I’m biting my tongue and my vision is getting a bit spotty and then he spanks me with extra fervour, enough that I cry out and I’m sure he’s cut the skin.
It hurts and he doesn’t seem interested in making me feel any better, not like he used to.
“I could do this for days,” he says, his voice thick with lust. “But unfortunately you’ve broken the strings. No matter, it won’t go to waste.”
I hear a snapping, plucking sound and suddenly he’s pushing between my shoulder blades so that my upper body collapses against the bench and I almost bite my tongue again, my teeth clacking together.
He reaches down and roughly yanks both my hands behind my back and then before I know what’s happening, he’s tying the violin strings around my wrists.
“You’ve been such a good girl, taking the pain like that. It almost makes me want to reward you.”
I swallow as the sound of his zipper being undone fills the room, mixing with my ragged breathing and the erratic beat of my heart.
I feel the heat from his hips as they come up behind me, and his hand takes a rough hold of my hips, fingers bruising me, while his other hand rubs the swollen tip of his cock against my entrance. I can’t help but moan and shift my hips to get more of him, but he’s holding back.
“You’re dripping wet,” he says through a gasp. “And I expect you’re a little sore as well. No pain, no reward, as they say.”
I brace myself but he doesn’t push in yet, instead teases me, rubbing his shaft up along my clit until I’m pressing down into him, wanting more.
“Do you still want this?” he asks. “Will you beg me for it?”
“I do,” I tell him, my voice breaking off as I suck in my breath. “I want everything you want to give me.”
“I’m going to give you all I’ve got,” he says, and before I can prepare myself, he’s thrusting inside of me in one hard, painful stroke that knocks the air clean out of my lungs.
“Oh, God,” I gasp, feeling full and stretched, and yes, there’s pain, but there’s also a burning desire in me that only grows as he starts to pump into me, making me rock back and forth, my back arching up and my cheek pressed against the bench.
“I don’t know what it is about you,” he grunts, his hands gripping me tightly, “but all I can think about is how to destroy you. How I’m going to fuck you to hell and back.”
“Yes. Yes!” I cry out, the pain and pleasure of his words mixing together. I angle my hips back, wanting all of him, feeling like I can’t get enough as he continues to drive his cock into me, deeper and deeper each time until I feel like my world is spinning.
“You should be careful what you wish for,” he says, his voice rough.
“I’ll take it,” I tell him. I want everything he has to give me because that’s the only part of him he’ll give. It’s the only part of him that seems to remember me, even if he doesn’t know it.
“Yes, you’ll fucking take it. Ask me nicely, like the good little whore you are.”
“I’ll take it, my lord.”
“Take what?” he ekes out through a heady groan as he pushes into the hilt, his balls pressed against me. “You’ll take my cock? You already are. I’m in your tight virgin cunt so deep you can feel it in your throat.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Yes, I’ll take your cock, my lord.”
“Ask me to fuck you harder.”
“Please, my lord, fuck me harder.”
“Louder,” he orders, and I obey, throwing my head back and moaning out loud, my cries echoing off the rock walls.
“My lord, please, fuck me harder!”
“Fucking hell,” he groans, slamming into me, over and over, until I’m crying out and shuddering, my whole body on fire.
He reaches down and wraps his hand around my throat, making my back arch and pulling me up as he leans down to whisper harshly in my ear, his hot gasping breath tickling my skin.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, “you take my cock so well. You were made for this, made for me.”
I can feel my body responding to his words, my pussy clenching around him, urging him on. I can’t help the moans and whimpers that escape me as he fucks me harder, faster, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.
“Say it,” he orders, his grip on my throat tightening. “Say you were made for me.”
“I was made for you,” I gasp out, my voice barely audible. Part of me is panicked, having flashbacks of my death in Venice, but the memory is buried by how well he’s fucking me. He’s always been so good at making me forget.
“Again,” he demands, his hips slamming into me.
“I was made for you!” I cry out, my body shaking with pleasure and pain, my mind consumed by the heat of his touch and the sound of his voice.
Because it’s true. He doesn’t know it, but it’s true. I was made for Valtu, and he was made for me, and by some divine luck we’ve come together in the way we know how.
We are primal, we are raw, we are destined.
And even though he may not know me as I know him, I know that somewhere deep inside, he knows that I was made for him too.
And I have found him again.
He continues to fuck me hard and fast, his hand still tight around my throat, until I’m keening and moaning, on the edge of shattering into a million pieces.
“Oh god, Valtu,” I cry out, and then I’m coming. I’m coming so hard my eyes roll back in my head and my mouth falls open and I clamp down on him, squeezing his cock as the spasms roll through me. I feel like I’m going to die from the pleasure but I’m too lost to care.
With his hand still around my throat, he wraps his other arm around my waist, dragging me down to the ground, continuing to fuck me hard and fast from behind. My cheek is pressed against the cold floor and I’m staring into the shadows, my vision blurring, my mind going numb.
I feel his cock twitch and shudder inside of me, his breathing ragged and his body beginning to shake. “I’m coming,” he cries out roughly. “Oh hell. Fuck. Fuck.”
I clench down tighter around him and he groans, pumping into me in short, sharp bursts.
I feel him release inside of me, the hot spurting of his cum. He pauses, shuddering, and then he pulls out of me and I feel him spill all over my back, the hot sticky fluid running down my ass and over my thighs.
I hear him panting, his whole body heaving from the exertion, and then I feel his hand on my shoulder, pushing me down to the ground.
“Good girl,” he says, gently stroking my hair. “But a dirty girl. I need to clean you off.”
I know exactly what he means to do and even though I am spent and exhausted, another thrill runs through me.
He moves back and starts licking his own cum off my back, then spreads my legs and starts licking up my thighs, like a panther lapping from a stream, strong yet delicate passes of his tongue, until I’ve been licked clean.
Then he undoes the restraints, tearing the violin strings apart until my hands are free, and straightens up behind me, getting to his feet.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, and I hear him zip his pants back up.
I laugh. How could he be hungry when he just licked the hell out of me?
I pull my tunic back down and shake out my wrists, glancing up at him over my shoulder. “For what?”