Page 47 of A New Days Don

His confession makes my head spin, and I whimper under his hand.

“You know where to find me… Why did you stay away for so long?” The question makes my chest skitter with anticipation. Butterflies explode in my core as he turns off the main road onto a darker, less popular side street and parks the car.

“I’m not the kind of man women like you date.” He mutters, but I don’t have time to consider the question or contemplate what he means before he pulls my mouth to his, locking our lips together and consuming me. Heat licks my skin and muddies every thought I had, replacing it with nothing but need.

The hand not resting on my thigh grips my ponytail, pulling it tightly, making little pin pricks of pain bloom. I shouldn’t like the pain, but it's carefully administered with control that delicately walks the line of pleasure, sending all the wrong signals through me. Liquid pools between my thighs, soaking through the panties I’m wearing.

The same broken sound I have made before while we kiss escapes my throat. My core begins to throb and ache, making my toes curl.

“Fuck, I love your little moans.” He grunts into the kiss, tugging on my hair, and tilting my head up. His stubble tickles against my jawline as he peppers kisses. His lips reach a sensitive spot below my ear. I moan again.

“Please,” I whimper, wanting more of this, more of everything. The ache that’s building makes my eyes cross, but it's addictive.

“What do you want?” Massimo growls against my neck.

“Something… Anything… More.” I stammer out. My hands grip the armrests on either side of me as his hand slowly trails up my thigh. His mouth works its way down my neck.

My jaw goes slack as my vision tunnels. No, please don’t. I want to feel this. I want… Whatever this is.

The button on my shorts pops open, and the backs of Massimo’s knuckles caress the sensitive skin above the ache that begs, whines, and throbs.

The alley is the first thing to flash, and I shake my head vigorously. I’m not there.

Then his blurry image. It’s not him.

“Come back to me, angelo mio.” Massimo grips my ponytail firmly, causing little sparks of pain that pull me back to the present. Massimo’s other hand is gently pressed to my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin. Slowly, he detangles his fingers from my hair.

No…

Anger. Shame. Sadness.

I grit my teeth, trying to avoid his eyes, “We should go.”

“We aren’t going anywhere.” Massimo growls, and my eyes dart to his. My breathing is still ragged, and my vision is still narrow.

“W-what do you mean?” I stumble over the words.

Massimo isn’t James; he won’t trap and hurt me.

You barely know him. How do you know he won’t? The toxic voice in my mind croons.

“What we are going to do is talk. You are going to use your words and tell me what’s going on. Then, if you want to leave, we will continue what we have set out to do. Otherwise, I’m going to make you cum all over me one way or another.” The fire I had thought had gone out is stoked by his words and comes back raging.

I want that. So badly, but it’s no use.

Frustration billows through me, building up behind my eyes. Tears threaten to spill, but I hold them back.

“I… I can’t.” I shrug, trying to pull away from his hands.

“You can’t what? Talk about it? Or be touched?” He pushes as if he already knows exactly what is going on inside of me. If he only knew the half of it, I don’t think he would want to ever touch me.

“Be touched. I…”

Once this is out, there is no taking it back, but maybe it won’t be so bad if he knows. One thing is for sure, the years of therapy have given me the tools necessary to become a better communicator, and I know better than anyone else why communication is important in any relationship.

I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the words out as fast as I can before I can stop them, “My body doesn’t like to be touched. Even if I want it. It… Panics.”

There is a pause between us. One that lasts far too long. Oh, God. I just dumped my trauma on some random man, a hot, random man whom I have kissed now three times, but we aren’t dating.