Chapter 20 #2
When I pull back, her lips are slightly swollen. I groan, “Just one more.” Then I close the gap and devour her mouth.
She clutches at me as I shift, rolling her beneath me.
My cock settles between her thighs, heat bleeding through the thin fabric. She rocks against me, hooking one leg around my hip.
My hand slips beneath her shirt—my shirt—skin burning beneath my palm.
“Enzo,” she gasps when my fingers brush over her nipple.
I trail my lips down her throat. Her nails rake across my skin.
“We shouldn’t…” I murmur. But I don’t stop. I push her shirt up, exposing her breasts, nipples taut and begging for my mouth.
I take one between my lips, biting gently.
“I know,” she breathes, hips arching into mine.
My palm glides down her body, featherlight, until I reach her panties, stroking her through them. She’s soaked.
She mewls, hips chasing the friction as I rub just shy of where she needs it most.
“Tell me you’re mine—just for tonight,” I whisper, pushing the fabric aside, still not touching her.
“I’m yours.” Her voice breaks on the last word.
I sink two fingers into her, massaging her clit with my thumb.
“I need to taste you again,” I groan, lips brushing her skin as I move down. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you coming on my tongue.”
Her breath hitches. “Please.”
The desperation in her voice undoes me. I spread her thighs and hold her open, then spear my tongue into her.
Izzy’s thighs lock around my head like she wants to drown me in her pussy. What a fucking way to go. I eat her like the five-star meal she is.
She moans and cries out, nails scraping my scalp, hands in my hair, until she’s trembling from the force of her orgasm.
When her legs fall open and she collapses into the bed, I chase her mouth and kiss her—let her taste herself on my tongue.
Her small hands fumble with my briefs, the only barrier between us. She tugs them down, freeing my cock, wrapping her hand around the shaft.
I hiss at the contact.
She strokes me until I push her hand away, gripping myself to guide my cock to her soaked entrance.
“I’ll be gentle,” I promise, kissing her again.
But she frowns. “I don’t want gentle.”
I freeze.
“Iz—”
“Please,” she whispers. “Fuck me like you hate me.”
I search her face, looking for something—hesitation? Deception?—but there’s nothing.
A switch flips. This isn’t the sweet Isolde who curls beside me in bed. This is the woman who put a bullet in a man’s skull without blinking.
“Tell me to stop, and I will.” My final check before I lose myself completely.
She nods.
I snap.
I wrap my hand around her throat as I thrust into her, filling her to the hilt. “You want me to fuck you like a whore?” I tighten my grip, watching her gasp for breath. Her pussy clenches around me.
I release her, let her suck in air. She smiles.
Then I tighten again and start to move—hard, punishing thrusts.
Her face flushes red, fingers clawing at my wrists, but her walls pulse around me, slickness coating her thighs. She fucking loves it.
Sitting up onto my knees, I grip her hips and angle them just right, hitting that perfect spot.
“That’s it. Take it like a good girl.”
She detonates—screaming, unraveling beneath me.
But I’m not finished.
I flip her over, shove her face into the mattress, and thrust back inside. My fingers bruise her hips with every slap of skin against skin.
I slap her ass, reveling in the crack, her soft cry, the red blooming across her skin.
Then I spit. Watch it pool over her asshole.
She moans into the sheets, fists clutching them, back arching as she pushes into me.
“You love this don’t you, filthy girl?”
I don’t slow. I let go of her hip with one hand and circle her tight hole. She freezes—for half a second—then pushes back into me.
“Tell me. Tell me how much you love it.”
She whines. “I love it. Fuck.”
“You’re my perfect little toy, aren’t you? Mine to do what I want to.”
I press the tip of my finger inside, feeling her stretch around it.
Fuck. She’s so tight here.
She gasps. “Yes!”
“Yes what?” I growl, smacking her ass cheek as I push my finger deeper.
Her voice trembles, breath shallow. “I’m your toy!”
A few thrusts are all it takes. She shatters again, coming hard around my cock.
It’s too much. I still, grunting as I spill deep inside her.
I collapse over her, careful not to crush her, pressing soft kisses to her sweat-damp skin.
Pushing off her, I grab a towel, wiping away the evidence.
Then realization dawns. “Shit. We didn’t use a condom.”
Izzy places a hand on my chest, reassuring. “It’s okay. I’ve got the implant.”
Goddamn. I’ve never forgotten protection. Never fucked anyone without it. It felt too good being with Izzy raw, feeling her tight heat wrapped around my cock.
“Was I too rough?” I ask, fear clawing at my chest. God, after everything that's happened to her, everything she's endured, and I—
She reaches for my face, cupping my jaw, making me look at her.
“No. It was perfect,” she whispers, smiling sleepily. “Thank you.”
I swallow hard.
She continues. “I needed that… after what they did. I needed to know I could still enjoy it.”
Her words are soft, full of vulnerability. They make sense. But they stab me straight in the heart. This can never be more. She doesn’t love me. She was just lost in lust. In the need to feel normal.
“This can’t happen again, Iz,” I tell her.
She stiffens, then nods. “I know. This doesn’t change anything.”
I don’t answer. I just hold her closer, painfully aware of how fragile this moment is. Izzy curls into me again, leg slung over mine, our feet tangling.
When the lust fades, shame creeps in. I shouldn’t have fucked her like that. Not after everything she’s been through. Hell, I shouldn’t have fucked her at all.