Chapter 32 #2
Slowly, he stood and I released the hold on my pants, fighting the urge to kick him. Once more, he placed his palms on either side of my head then insisted on ghosting his lips along the arch of my neck. I tried to hold myself rigid and failed, feeling him in parts I didn’t want to.
He noticed. “Such a pity, little fox. I’m barely touching you.” His fingertips trailed a path down my arm, inciting goosebumps. “And you’re a trembling, whimpering mess,” he whispered in my ear.
My eyes flew open, unsure when I’d closed them, aware I was shaking and that I was clinging to him, my fingers curled into his shirt. “It’s anger.” Annoyed with myself, I jerked back, dropping my hands and hating how breathy my voice sounds.
“Is it the anger that’s making your pussy wet too?”
“My pu…I’m not…It’s not!” I snapped, embarrassed. How could he possibly know that?
I tried to push him back, but he was like a mountain. Unmovable, rigid, towering. Slipping a hand around my waist, he pulled me into his body until I felt his hard length press against my stomach.
My eyes lifted to find his hooded gaze on me, dropping to my parted lips. He liked what he saw, I could feel it in the twitch of his dick.
“Such denial. The way a woman pants, flushes, and bites her lip, says a lot. You’re aching for me, pressing into me, desperate to get your pussy near my cock.
” His voice was throaty with arousal. “Are you hiding something?” My brow shot up and a smirk pulled at his lips.
“Maybe you want me to fuck you against this window right now.” I gasped and he chuckled, the sound low and vibrating through the small space between us.
“Perhaps you do have some dark urges,” he murmured, eyes dancing with amusement.
“Dirty fantasies underneath that professional doctor facade?”
“You’re right.” I smiled sweetly, softening my tone until it was almost a purr. “Right now, I have an overwhelming urge to plunge a scalpel through your frontal lobe. Purely diagnostic, of course. Just to confirm there’s actually a human brain residing there.”
“By all means, doctor.” He let out a low laugh, his eyes darkly challenging. “Be warned, though, if you do find something, you might not like what it is.”
“Clearly insane,” I mumbled.
“Says the woman who drinks my cum so beautifully.” His hand slid inside my pants so smoothly, I wasn’t quick enough to stop him. “Let’s prove how wet you are.”
“Remo.” I panicked, shoving his chest, desperation giving me strength that I didn’t have.
No match for him, though, I groaned when he grabbed my hands and pinned them behind my back, his body pressed against mine.
“I can feel you tremble. Scared?” It took a second or so to feel flexi cuffs tighten around my wrists, not surprised he carried them with him.
“You need to learn a lesson, little fox. I take what I want.”
“Untie me.” Struggling was useless because another second more and his hand was back inside my pants.
“I thought being tied up and have your pussy fucked would be one your fantasies?” His fingers skimmed the top of my panties, leaving a blazing trail in its wake.
I stiffened, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me respond. “This is rape–”
“Broken record.” His gaze were pinned on the movement of his hand as he slipped a finger inside my panty, pausing there for a moment, his eyes flicking up to mine, the black pupils almost eclipsing the blue irises.
“Stop, please,” I begged, fearing my response to his touch more than the discovery of how wet I was.
His brow shot up, his smirk full blown. “I’m a man who never quits halfway.”
I glared at him and it was the wrong move because with his eyes locked with mine, his fingers parted my wet folds and slid into my pussy.
“Fuck,” his hiss filled the room as his finger grazed over my clit.
I closed my eyes, shuddering so hard, I had to lean back against the wall, not even bothered about the uncomfortable position.
“Is this for me, little fox?”
I felt his hand leave my pants and opened my eyes to Remo’s arrogant smirk, and his glistening fingers so close my face, I jerked my head back. Instead of admitting defeat though, I scowled.
“Proved your point?”
“Open your mouth.”
My eyes widened. “What?” Before I could gauge his intention, he gripped my jaw and squeezed, forcing my mouth open. He pushed both fingers into my mouth and leaned closer. “Taste what I do to you, savor your need for me.”
I struggled against his hold, barely sampling the salty taste of myself before he was sliding that hand back into my pants, the other gripping my throat and squeezing. He pushed a finger into my pussy, his thumb pressing down on my clit.
I let out a shocked gasp, clenching around the digit. “Stop.” I squirmed.
“Your pussy wants something else,” he exhaled harshly. “You’re so fucking wet.”
“Go to hell”
“Only if you come with me.” He circled my clit and I closed my eyes, my breath hitching. “Your body knows what you want. What you need. Say you want to come.”
I turned, using my shoulder to push at his chest, it was futile. He didn’t move, his grip on my throat tightening. I opened my mouth, trying to breathe.
He leaned in. “Say it and I’ll let you breathe.”
“No,” I shook my head, trying to close my legs.
With a soft chuckle, he pressed a knee between my thighs, the pressure on my clit harder now. “Moan for me and I’ll give you air.” He squeezed my throat tighter, his finger slowly thrusting in and out of my pussy.
I bit my lip, trying to stifle a moan. “Stop,” I whispered, lifting my eyes to meet his. “Please. You’ve proved your point. I was wet.”
He dipped his head, his lips brushing against my ear, his breath hot on my skin. “For who?”
I swallowed, trying not to glare. “For–”
He pushed in a second finger and my knees buckled, my pussy clenching as he massaged my clit, with the right pressure and insane control I’d never felt before. A shudder wracked my body and the moan slipped out.
“Let me go,” I pleaded, voice trembling, fighting the need to come.
“No,” he grunted. “Not until you come for me.” His fingers continued their slow assault, teasing me, bringing me closer to the edge.
“Don’t do this.” Even I knew my attempt was half-hearted. “Don’t,” I pleaded, trembling.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t...please...” my voice trailed off, my eyes closing.
The urge to give in grew stronger by the second.
He pushed his fingers deeper and I shot up onto my toes, clenching hard around them.
With each caress, each pump, my hips bucked, my breathing erratic.
My head fell back, resting on the wall behind me and involuntarily arching my body toward him.
Remo’s hand slipped from my neck to nape, the position giving him more access.
“Little fox?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m not stopping until your legs are shaking and this entire hospital hears my name fall from your lips. Are we clear?”
“Yes,” I didn’t think, just moaned, lost in the feeling of his pumping fingers.
For once, I was just a woman, letting a man touch her, allowing herself to feel inexplicable sensations that brought her body to a level of awareness that no woman should deny, even if the fingers inside her belonged to an evil monster.
His lips trailed a line up my neck to my ear, sucking the lobe into his warm mouth and unthinking shudders ripped through me. “Oh, God,” I breathed, biting my bottom lip, widening my legs, wanting him deeper. “Remo,” his name slipped out on a husky sigh.
“That’s it, give it to me,” he whispered in my ear. “Your pussy is begging for it. Begging for me” He increased his pace and my gasping sighs turned into gratuitous pants.
I could feel my juices soak my panties, the scent wafting up to my nose.
“Tell me, little fox. Who’s in control?” He shoved a third finger roughly inside me.
“Stop,” I cried out, feeling tears run down my cheeks but I refused to open my eyes, refused to look at a man who knew exactly what he was doing.
“No. I’m going to make you come.”
“I won’t,” I murmured, the words meaningless because he moved faster and I tried to close my legs, my muscles straining with the effort.
“The man you hate is going to make you come. And you can’t stop it.” He chuckled in my ear and God that sound alone made my knees buckle but his leg between mine, anchored me. “Who’s in control?”
“I can’t...I can’t...”
“Yes, you can.” He plunged deeper, harder.
I cried out, shaking wildly now, obscenely wet noises filling the room. “Remo,” the reluctant whisper fell from my lips.
“Good girl.” Pressing his thumb against my clit, he curled his fingers before his lips crashed to mine, his chest a piquant heat against my nipples pushing at my scrubs.
And I broke. The orgasm ripped through me. He swallowed my cries, my moans, his masterful mouth devouring me. His body anchored my weight as I rode out the waves of pleasure. When I finally stopped trembling, I opened my eyes, anger, fear, disgust heating my neck, my cheeks, my body.
“You’re an asshole,” I spat, weakly.
In response, I felt him scoop up the evidence of my betrayal with his fingers then slowly pull out, the absence of him leaving a raw, aching emptiness.
He brought the soaking digits to my lips and pressed them into my mouth.
I thrashed against him, but his grip on my nape tightened before his wet hand clamped over my mouth, his strength absolute.
The taste overwhelmed me for a second. Salty, slightly sweet. I should’ve been disgusted, I wasn’t.
“Swallow,” he ordered, and I did because I couldn’t breathe, because he didn’t give me a choice.
I swallowed, the humiliation burning its way down my throat, across my cheeks, stealing the post orgasmic euphoria.
“Good girl,” he said, his tone soft, mocking, then uncovered my mouth and slipped his fingers into his mouth. Done sucking, he pulled them out and smirked. “Not as sweet as your blood but fuck I’d suck you every day just to watch you drip for me.”
“I hate you.”
He tilted his head, lips twitching. “Every time you pretend you hate my touch, little fox, I’ll prove to you what a liar you are.
And I won’t stop until you’re screaming my name in pained pleasure, until you’re riding my cock like a fucking ghost train to hell and I’m the only cock you’ll beg to want. ”
Breathless, I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re a–”
“Monster?” Still holding my nape, he slipped his hand into his pocket and produced a small knife. Alarmed, my eyes widened as he brought it to my neck. He paused for moment, then before I could pull in a breath, he swung me around and cut the ties.
Eyes on the wall, I rubbed circulation back into my hands, refusing to look at him. When I finally worked up the courage to turn, he was gone.
That night, even though I should’ve gone home, I worked the late shift with the girls and when we sat down to a midnight snack, one part of me was sorely tempted to tell them about Remo’s visit while the other remained embarrassed with my submission to him.
“I heard Remo was in the hospital this morning?” Stasia said, nudging a plate with an apple crumble slice toward me.
I drew the plate closer, pretending interest in stirring my coffee but when I looked up to find three pairs of eyes on me, I caved. “Let me guess, Guiselle?” I mumbled.
Stasia nodded. “What did he want?”
“What do you think?” I exhaled wearily then told them about the tattoo and this morning’s visit.
“Oh, My God, he actually tattooed your…” Her cheeks pinking, she leaned closer. “Your pussy?” I nodded, trying not to laugh at her toss-up between curiosity and disgust. “I’d like to meet that man and stuff a knife in his eye.”
“You and me both,” Stasia scoffed, reaching out to rub my arm affectionately.
“Did it hurt?” Trixie still looked fascinated.
“Like a bitch.” I shuddered, remembering the pain. However, with it came the memory of his taste of him on my lips, that demanding mouth on mine, his intense fingers in my pussy, that punishing cock between my breasts and the reddish bruise I now sported.
Shifting in my seat to stem the sudden rush of arousal I should not be feeling, my eyes darted between my friends, guilty embarrassment slithering down my spine.
Brandi passed me a plate of grapes. “Well, at least you don’t have to worry about him anymore. The Rossi brothers are leaving town.”
Surprised, the grape I popped into my mouth went down before I could bite into it. My body erupted into a coughing fit. When I finally cleared my throat while Stasia rubbed my back, I stared at Brandi through watery eyes, my expression coaxing her for details.
“A wife of one of the henchmen mentioned it,” she explained.
“When? How?” I asked, my voice breathy with disbelief. Brandi took a sip of her coffee unfazed by the tension tightening my body. Could it be true? Had Remo really left town? “Now, Bran,” I spluttered, unsure why I suddenly felt flustered.
Her eyes went wide before she gauged my meaning.
“Sorry, babe.” She smiled her apology. “My friend Mia, who I haven’t seen in a while, is in town visiting her family.
I met her at the supermarket this morning.
Her husband works for the Rossi brothers up at their castle.
He mentioned they were flying back to New York tonight.
Apparently, the brothers were returning home. ”
“So, I was anxious for…” I trailed off, surprised by the abrupt displeasure filling my chest? I should be happy. The man practically raped me, mutilated me, I should be angry.
“You wanted him to stay?” Trixie hedged.
“What?” I barked out a laugh, my eyes darting to each woman, hoping they weren’t reading too much into the chaotic debate going on in my head that I probably wasn’t masking well.
“Sorry.” She shrugged. “But for a minute there, you kind of looked like you were disappointed.” The other two nodded their agreement.
I reined in my annoyance, mentally kicking myself. “Well, I’m not.”
“Maybe you’re attracted to the bad boy type,” Trixie pronounced, earning a slap on the arm from Stasia.
“What?” The younger woman pouted, rubbing her arm.
“I mean lots of women are attracted to the bad body type, right?” She looked at all of us, as if trying to get someone to agree with her.
When no one did, she sighed. “Okay, maybe I’m alone in this.
” My laugh had her smiling again. “I’m sorry for being insensitive, Ish. ”
“You’re not,” I soothed, wrinkling my nose. “And you’re right, plenty women are turned on by the bad boy type and loads more who’d probably kill for Remo Rossi’s attention. I’m just not sure if he’s the type of guy for me,” I added, relatively sure I was lying to myself.
Could I hope though, that he was gone? For good perhaps? If the answer was yes, what was that strange tightness in my chest I decided not to explore further.