Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
My heart hammers in my chest, instincts flaring into me that I should run away from this man, flee his rage.
He glares hard, paralyzing me with his indomitable attention.
“Touching myself,” I whisper.
He nods a matter of factly.
“That’s what I thought,” he says. “I heard you from outside. You’re lucky I ordered my staff to steer clear from this room. Otherwise one of them might’ve heard you, too, and I would’ve been forced to do some very dark things to make up for it. You know those moans are just for me.”
I bite my lip, my hole soaked, my lips swelling.
“Where have you been all day?” I ask.
In a sudden violent movement, he springs around the bed and leaps at me.
Whoosh, he pulls the sheets away, revealing my bottomless thighs, my panties all twisted around from where I was touching myself.
He stares hard for a few moments, jaw pulsing.
“You don’t ask questions,” he tells me. “You do what I tell you when I tell you. You’re not in charge here, you wet-as-fuck virgin nympho. Turn on the light.”
He turns without waiting for me to obey, walking across the room. I reach across and switch on the bedside lamp, filling the room with a soft yellow glow.
Arturo grabs one of the armchairs and lifts it as though it weighs nothing, casually holding it by the arms as he carries it back over toward the bed and sets it down, adjusts it leisurely, and then sits down and lays his hands on the armrests.
“Go on, then,” he snaps.
“What?”
“If you’re such a horny little thing, go ahead. Touch yourself. Make yourself come for me.”
It’s like one of my romance-novel-fueled fantasies has come to life, but it aches and shimmers with so much more intensity in reality.
My lips ache and pulse and beg me to scream at him, No, just take me, just fuck me with that big cock and put a baby in me.
I still the words, nerves dancing in me.
Fantasy and reality are two different things.
There’s no guarantee I’ll be able to please him if I take the reins.
It’s better to let him lead the way.
“Did I stutter?” he growls. “Touch. Your. Virgin. Cunt.”
I slide my hand down my body, toward my sex, staring into his eyes. They’re so hard and steely, so concentrated, as though whatever’s beyond the bedroom door – my parents, the mafia war, whatever dark business he’s been busy with all day – doesn’t exist.
Just us.
Only us.
Forever.
“Wait a second,” he says when I’m about to slip my hand down my panties—the lacy red ones he left for me along with the clothes.
He leans forward and grabs them, his fingers brushing against my drenched hole, and then yanks them hard.
They snap away, the fabric biting into my skin before it’s gone, a crumpled mess on the floor.
“Ah,” I moan.
He leans back, resting his hands on the armrests again. The only sign that he’s struggling to maintain himself is the way his fingers twitch, clenching and unclenching. Otherwise, he just stares, utterly in control.
“Open your legs as wide as you can. I want that sticky hole gaping. And then focus on your clit. Don’t you dare touch that hole. I don’t want you cleaning up any of that wetness. That’s all for me.”
I do as he says, spreading my knees and staring at him, wide eyed.
“Do you have any idea how pretty your blue eyes are when you look like that?” he murmurs. “Fucking hell—”
Something hardens in him, as though he realizes what he’s saying.
“Cunt—touch it. Hurry the fuck up.”
I’ve never met somebody as hot and cold as him, a raging emotional inferno one second and a blunt iceman the next.
I press my finger on my clit and start rubbing it softly, tingles dancing up and down my thighs, all over my body.
I rub harder, adding pressure, a moan escaping my lips.
“No,” he says sternly. “You can make only noises when I give you permission.”
I bite down, grinding my teeth as I work my fingers around my clit, teasing more and more buzzing pleasure out of the movements.
The buzzing gets deeper and fiercer, as Arturo clenches his jaw, his fists, gazing at me so hard it’s like he’s going to tear in half.
“Are you close?” he growls.
I nod, fighting the urge to moan, moving my fingers quicker, firmer.
“You’re about to cream for me?”
“Mm-mm,” I sigh.
“Good. Now stop. Stop, Aida.”
It takes a gargantuan effort for me to remove my hands.
“Put them at your sides.”
I lay them sideways on the bed, grabbing big fistfuls of the sheets, unable to stop my thighs from squirming as the orgasm whispers and tickles me, as though telling me to come here, come closer, keep going … the fireworks are so close, just one more touch, just one more.
“You’re mean,” I whimper.
He smirks, not giving a single fuck.