Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“Did you go into my room and take that, too?”
“Well, it didn’t grow legs and walk over here on its own.”
“Don’t do it again.”
I lie back, suddenly so exhausted I can’t sit up.
“I told you to eat. You can’t drink this stuff on an empty stomach.”
I look up at the pretty canopy over the bed, then at him as he comes to stand by my legs which are dangling off the bed. There’s only one word I can use to describe the look in his eyes as his fingers caress my thigh. Lustful.
“Your sister’s back,” I say.
His face tightens, that lust gone. He drinks a sip from the whiskey, then sets the bottle down and looks me over.
“Don’t worry about my sister’s back.”
“Did you really do that?”
His eyebrows furrow, and I realize my mistake. I get up on my elbows and look at him. I should fix it. He shouldn’t know I talked to her.
“My father would only take her back if she agreed to two things. One was to change Bennie’s name. She’d named him after his father. And rightfully so. But his name is now Benedict Di Santo. My father’s name.”
“Why did she agree?”
“Because she’s weak. Get on your stomach.”
I swallow. I know what he wants. I want it too.
He and I are weak too. Weak for each other.
But I push on. “The second thing was what you did to her?”
He studies me, then nods.
At least he doesn’t lie.
I shudder, looking down at his hands. Big and powerful. Able to cause that kind of damage. That kind of pain.
“Are you afraid of me?”
I bite my lip. Am I? I was at first. I still am now, in a way.
“Will you really let me go?”
“I gave you my word. Now answer my question.”
“Yes.”
His face is rigid, body tense.
“And no. Am I being naïve to think you won’t hurt me like that, Damian?” I pause, then add, “You said truth in bed so tell me the truth whatever it is.”
He relaxes a little. “You’re stretching that in bed part.”
“I answered your question. Answer mine.”
“I won’t hurt you like that. I shouldn’t have hurt her like that.”
I hear remorse in his words. I think about the dagger just underneath me, beneath this mattress. I think about Michela and about the evidence of what Damian is capable of, and I still believe him.
His eyes graze over me. That lust of earlier is a hunger now.
“Get on your stomach, Cristina.”
My belly quivers, heat pulses between my legs, and my nipples harden. I watch him unbutton his shirt and pull it out of his pants. Lines of muscle cut across his belly.
I meet his eyes. They’ve gone dark. I roll onto my stomach, my elbows on the bed. I look at the closed door as I think about what he did the last time I was in this position. But this feels different. He’s not angry.
He tugs the string of the panties. I shudder as he peels them down over my hips, my legs. Off my feet. I look back when he spreads my legs apart and stands between them. I watch him look at me, watch him crouch down behind me and open me.
I don’t know what this is. I should pull away and make him take it from me. But I want his eyes on me. And his hands on me. And his mouth on me. And him inside me.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he says, dipping his tongue between the wet lips of my pussy, licking the length of me before drawing back. “My beautiful little virgin.”
I gasp and turn away when he puts his fingers on me and smears my arousal up toward my other hole, circling that too.
“And you’re all mine.”
Keeping one hand on me, he stands.
When I hear the buckle of his belt and the unzipping of his pants, I turn again.
His eyes are on my ass. He pushes his pants and briefs down, and I lick my lips. He’s hard. And big. And my pussy clenches in anticipation even knowing it’ll hurt. Knowing I’m still raw from earlier.
He rubs the whole of his hand over my wet pussy, then takes his dick in that hand, rubbing it, looking at me as he pumps his cock.
“Put your fingers on your clit.”
I don’t hesitate. I slide my hand between my legs, spreading my legs wider and rubbing my clit.
“Fuck.” He watches, pumping his cock. “Don’t come yet. I want to watch your fingers work.”
He’s tugging harder and watching him is making me wetter, so wet it’s dripping down my thighs.
“Are you too sore to be fucked?” he finally asks.
My breathing is already shallow, and my pussy is greedy for him. I shake my head.
“I won’t be gentle this time. I can’t. And I don’t want to hurt you.”
I don’t want him to be gentle.