5. Caterina #2
My frantic movements only succeed in creating a devastating friction between us.
He groans, a harsh, animalistic sound, and drops his mass fully onto my hips.
He captures both of my wrists in one of his large hands, freeing his other hand to grip the neckline of my silk dressing gown.
He yanks downward, the expensive fabric tearing down the center with a loud, violent rip, exposing the delicate lace bralette underneath.
"You belong to me," he asserts, his rough palm sliding aggressively over the exposed skin of my chest, his fingers tangling in the delicate lace. He rips the undergarment aside, freeing my breasts to the cool air, before replacing his hand with his mouth.
He bites down on the sensitive peak, dragging his teeth across the flesh with enough force to elicit a sudden, involuntary cry from my throat.
He sucks the bruising flesh, his tongue lashing mercilessly, sending a shocking, agonizing rush of pleasure straight to my core.
I hate him. I hate him with a passion that burns my insides to ash, yet my body is betraying my mind, melting into a puddle of needy, desperate heat beneath his punishing assault.
I arch my back, my fingernails scraping uselessly against the marble, a contradictory mix of curses and whimpers leaving my lips. "Bastard," I sob, twisting beneath him, chasing the horrific, magnificent friction.
Alessio releases my wrists, his hands traveling down to grip the hem of my silk panties.
He rips them down my legs, tossing the ruined scraps of fabric aside, leaving me completely bare and vulnerable on the floor of my own foyer.
He doesn't bother undoing the buttons of his trousers.
He simply yanks his zipper down, freeing his thick, rigid erection, his eyes locking onto mine with a terrifying, victorious gleam.
"Tell me you hate me," he commands, his fingers finding my slick, wet center, pushing inside me with two rough fingers. He stretches my unyielding walls, drawing a shattered gasp from my lips as he hits a bundle of nerves that sends fireworks exploding behind my eyes.
"I hate you," I sob, bucking my hips against his hand, unable to stop the wet, desperate sounds escaping my mouth.
"Say it again," he insists, pulling his fingers out and replacing them with the blunt, imposing head of his cock.
"I hate you," I scream, right as he drives his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal, unforgiving thrust.
The stretch is agonizing, a magnificent, tearing fullness that leaves me completely breathless.
I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively, my nails digging violently into the muscles of his back, drawing crescent-shaped bloodlines across his skin.
I want to hurt him just as much as he is hurting me, to make him bleed for every ounce of dignity he stripped from my life.
We are engaged in a chaotic, filthy power struggle, rolling across the unforgiving marble, trading vicious bites and frantic scratches instead of tender kisses.
The cold floor saps the warmth from my bare skin, while his scorching body provides the only source of heat in the expansive, drafty hall.
He sets a punishing, chaotic pace, withdrawing almost completely before slamming back into my heat.
The collision of our bodies slaps loudly against the stone, a vulgar, degrading soundtrack to our mutual destruction.
He grips my hair, tilting my head back to expose my throat, his teeth sinking into my collarbone, marking me with dark, blossoming bruises.
"You are mine," he snarls between thrusts, his sweat dripping onto my skin, his face a mask of primal, unhinged ecstasy. "Every inch of this body, every drop of this blood, it belongs to me."
I fight him for control, gripping his shoulders and forcing myself upward, meeting his thrusts with an aggressive, matching ferocity.
I bite his jaw, tasting the salt of his sweat, refusing to act like a submissive victim.
I am riding the monster, taking his violence and throwing it right back in his face.
The realization strikes me like a devastating blow, a terrifying epiphany that crashes over me amidst the blinding pleasure.
I am not a civilized princess forced into a cage.
The depravity fueling his thrusts perfectly matches the twisted, dark hunger clawing at my own insides.
We are both savage, vicious creatures, and this aggressive, punishing intimacy is exactly what my body craves.
He slips his hand between our bodies, his rough thumb finding the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves at my core.
He presses hard, maintaining the ruthless, grinding pace of his hips.
The dual assault obliterates the final remnants of my sanity.
I shatter, my vision whiting out completely as a magnificent, helpless scream tears out of my throat.
My inner muscles clamp down on his length with crushing, unforgiving force, milking him relentlessly.
My violent release destroys his control.
Alessio roars my name, a guttural, triumphant sound that bounces off the vaulted ceiling.
He drives his hips forward one final, devastating time, emptying his release inside me with a shuddering, violent climax.
His massive frame collapses against my chest, his forehead resting on the cold marble beside my head as he fights to drag oxygen back into his lungs.
We lie there in the center of the foyer, the alarms still ringing faintly in the distance, our bodies slick with sweat and bruised from the chaotic battle.