AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You want me to…”
“I want you to make yourself come.”
I’ve never done it. Not once, and not for lack of effort. My own fingers just don’t do it, my thoughts too loud, my own body too stubborn. It’s always too much or not enough, and right when I felt like I was getting close, so close, the pleasure would evaporate. Like a misfire, something inside me slipping out of gear. It was less frustrating to just not try. For years, I have considered myself the Goldilocks of orgasms, never getting it just right. When I finally confessed the truth to Kay, she assured me it was normal and recommended toys. I told her I purchased them, that I was enjoying them and they had changed everything for me. I lied. I just couldn’t handle someone thinking I was broken somehow.
But under Salvatore’s burning gaze, I’m not able to lie. My fingers work tirelessly at my pussy, trying to stoke the ember of pleasure into a fire. The way he had done it last night, so effortlessly—
It had happened so naturally, I thought maybe I was fixed.
But I feel it now. The aching struggle to reach that peak, the pleasure there but distant. Impersonal.
I whine in frustration and try dipping my fingers deeper inside.
“No,” he orders sharply. His voice has more of an effect on me than my own hands.
“Outside only. Only I go inside. Good girl,” he says, when I listen and stroke my folds again.
I wait for him to tell me what to do. To order me into orgasm, like he can snap his fingers and make my ovaries quake with pleasure. He doesn’t. Salvatore sits and watches, a silent observer to my plight.
The sweat gathers on my brow, my body twisting on top of the fur coat. I hammer my fingers against my cunt in frustration, the cry that I utter having nothing to do with pleasure.
Suddenly, Salvatore is between my legs again. With both thumbs, he circles either side of my clit until I see stars. I buck, hands curling into his arm as he brings me to the edge in a matter of seconds.
“You think it’s an accident that you don’t have any panties here?” he asks, in that low, dangerous voice that scrapes like a blade across my cunt. My vision blurs, eyes rolling and breath hitching. “I would never allow that. I don’t want another man even thinking about your cunt.”
He roughly flicks my clit with his finger, pulses of pleasure and pain shooting through my core. I yelp pitifully, and plead for him to keep going, keep hitting it just like that.
“Look what all I can do to my good girl, and she still begs me for it—” he says, a new thickness in his voice. He’s into it.
I nod up at him, our eyes meeting.
“Fuck,” he breathes, the word ragged on his lips, as if he’s seeing me for the first time.
It all comes to an abrupt stop. His touch vanishes like a mirage in the desert, an illusion of relief that gets snatched away from me. I cry out senselessly, legs closing and clenching around the nothingness between them.
Salvatore turns away.
“Wait—” I say when he makes his way toward the door. “You’re leaving? Why?” I hear my own stunned disbelief and desperation for him to come and finish me off. I stand up too quickly, my legs wobbling beneath me, my bare thighs wet and slick.
Salvatore doesn’t look back.
“So next time, you’ll think twice before you start gossiping.”
7
Contessa
Outrages upon personal dignity and humiliating, degrading treatment both fall under violations of the Geneva Convention. And I’ve decided, in the long, frustrating hours after he leaves, that Salvatore Mori is a war criminal who should be tried as such.
Salvatore leaves me for hours with nothing to focus on except the unsatisfied heat pulsing between my legs. Ava doesn’t come back to distract me, even though she promised she would.
I wonder what kind of trouble she got in.
. . .Probably not the same kind I have.
I pass some of the time in the bath, scrubbing myself pink as if I can wash off the dirty effect Salvatore has on me. All it does is make me wish these were his hands running up and down my body. I consider sitting in the tub and having a good cry, but I don’t think that would make me feel better, either. Just more pathetic than I already am.
I pass the hours with self-care, making use of the little amenities I’ve been given. I fill up the dressing room with the clothes in my size and pick one of the mini dresses to wear for now.
