Page 29 of Kingpin's Property


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He shifted behind me, guiding me farther upright from my semi-reclined position until my breasts were no longer submerged beneath the bubbling water. My nipples pebbled instantly, the suddenly cool air making me very aware of my tight, sensitive buds.

The sudsy loofa finally made contact with my skin, gliding down my sternum. The light scrub so close to my breasts concentrated my attention on them. The cool air was almost unbearably intense in contrast to the hot water that warmed the rest of my body.

He dragged the loofa across my chest, sending little rivulets of warm suds dripping down my breasts. I bit my lip to hold back a moan. I hadn’t known the pleasure of a man’s touch since the night Stefano betrayed me. I’d locked the sensual part of myself away, until I forgot what pleasure felt like.

Now, Stefano stimulated me mercilessly, lighting up my body with awareness and stoking my need. If I hadn’t forced myself to forget, maybe I wouldn’t be so susceptible to his manipulations. I was completely unprepared and overwhelmed by carnal sensation.

“I think you need this,” he murmured between kisses against my neck. “There’s something unique between us. Something intense.” His cock pulsed against my hip, and his voice dropped deeper as he nipped at my throat. “I don’t think you’ve been able to replicate the high, either. I’ve been chasing it for twelve years, when I should have just buried myself inside you and never left.”

He rubbed in a circular motion around my right breast, then my left, not quite stimulating my aching nipples. A small whine slipped between my lips, and my back arched slightly before I could stop myself.

A dark chuckle taunted me, sending a shiver down my spine. “Oh no, kitten. You won’t be allowed to come anytime soon.” He moved his attention away from my breasts, scrubbing my shoulders. “That’s it,” he encouraged on a low rumble. “Relax and let me take care of you.”

I’m going to take good care of you. An echo of fear soured my arousal. This wasn’t right. Stefano wanted me to be his pet. He wanted to strip away all of my freedoms and reduce me to nothing more than his plaything.

A shock of pleasure pulled a sharp cry from my chest, but it was gone as soon as it came. My nipples tingled where Stefano had roughly stimulated them, but the loofa was back at my shoulders.

“Relax.” This time, he delivered a stern order rather than gentle coaxing. He worked at the knots around my neck and upper back, kneading my flesh until the tension began to ease from my muscles.

Surrendering was far easier than continuing to fight a losing battle. Each time I showed the slightest resistance, he reinforced his iron control, and a little more of my own slipped away.

I sank into warm darkness, drifting on the sea breeze scent as he worked his way over every inch of my upper body. After a while, he stopped scrubbing, and the soft spray of warm water massaged my flesh as it sluiced away the soap suds. He directed the spray around my head, soaking my hair before lathering his hands with shampoo.

I didn’t bother to hold back a moan when he began to massage my scalp. I leaned back against his muscular chest, allowing him to fully support my weight. Holding my own body upright was impossible when all of my strength melted away. The persistent tension of fear and suspicion had kept me going for years, my entire being held together through sheer determination and constant vigilance. Without that tension, I didn’t know how to function.

“You’re very sweet like this, kitten.” His words came out slow and deep, or maybe it only seemed that way because he’d placed me in an altered state of existence where everything was relaxed and warm.

He rinsed the suds from my hair, and I allowed myself to drift as he washed his own body. A soft hum left me on a sigh as I leaned against his strong frame, feeling his muscles ripple and flex while he moved.

“Almost done,” he murmured. “Don’t forget: you’re not allowed to come.”

I didn’t have time to puzzle over his words before he started washing me again, concentrating on the lower half of my body. He worked his way around my sex, scrubbing low on my belly before dragging the loofa over my legs. He slowed when he reached my inner thighs, edging closer to my core.

His arm braced around my middle, and I realized he was preventing me from rocking my hips toward his hand.

Confusion threaded through my blissful haze.

This was wrong. My behavior was shameful. I shouldn’t—

My entire body tensed when he made gentle contact with my pussy, and a harsh cry sprang from my lips when he applied direct stimulation to my swollen labia. Pleasure rushed through my system, my body primed for orgasm after years of abstinence and isolation.

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