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At first.
By the time I’ve done it five or six times, she’s stopped bothering to try to hide how much it’s affecting her, and I grin savagely up at her.
“You sure you don’t want to fuck, Princess?” I ask, caressing the soft skin of her breasts. “You seem awfully desperate right now…”
Lucia stares up at me, her eyes dazed and half-lidded. She bites her bottom lip, and for a moment, it almost seems like she’s considering it. Then she quickly shakes her head. “No,” she says hoarsely. “I don’t want to fuck.”
She’s lying, and we both know she’s lying.
I palm my cock through my pants, wanting to just shed them and fuck her senseless until she’s begging for more, admitting just how much she wants me. If I hadn’t told her I wouldn’t, I’d already be inside of her.
I decide to take a page out of Victor’s book and be patient. As much as it pains me, I sit up and separate from her. She gives me a confused look.
“You said you don’t want to,” I tell her. “But you can’t expect me to keep pleasuring you and not want to fuck. So this is it for today.” I get up—and damn, I’m so hard it hurts—and take a few steps toward the door. I point toward the camera in the corner of the room. “Saint will enjoy the show if you get yourself off.”
Part of me hopes she does masturbate. Saint and I can enjoy the live feed together. But from the stubborn glare, I think Lucia’s going to deny herself just to spite us. That’s fine, though; I can still get off from looking at her marked body and knowing she’s just as aroused as I am.
“Unless you want to ask nicely…?”
Lucia shakes her head.
I shrug, smirking at her. “Your loss, Princess.”
After adjusting my cock one more time, I leave the room, locking the door behind me. I deserve an award for denying myself like this. I don’t know how Victor does it so regularly.
It’s a bit awkward walking through the house with my hard-on, but I make it back to my room so I can take care of myself in peace, imagining Lucia’s desperate moans. I tap into Saint’s feed on my phone so I can watch her.
She doesn’t masturbate, but she doesn’t have to. All I need is the sight of her, the look of her eyes and the way I’ve marked her body, to send me tumbling over the edge almost as soon as my hand touches my cock.
13
Lucia
I’m going crazy down here.
I don’t know how many days it’s been since I got caught trying to fuck Freddie for a get out of jail not-so-free card, but it’s enough to drive me mad. I’m tired of looking at the same four walls, tired of the same uncomfortable mattress, tired of knowing I’m being watched 24/7.
Watched doing nothing, maybe, but still being watched.
I’ve thought about putting on a show a few times just to see if anyone comes down to check on me outside of feeding me or leading me to the bathroom, but my pride won’t let me stoop that low. If I didn’t touch myself after Angelo left me throbbing and aching, I’m not going to touch myself just for them to watch in the hopes that they might come down here.
It says a lot that I’m willing to endure their company just so I don’t have to be alone.
But I’m mostly afraid that Victor would be the one to come downstairs. I can’t handle seeing him again. The fact that I came while that fucking video of Elena Pavone played is still haunting me. How could my body betray me like that? How could Victor manage to coax so much pleasure out of my body even as my mind was screaming?
The men have ironclad self-control. Saint didn’t fuck me, Angelo didn’t fuck me, and Victor didn’t fuck me. They’re all too busy breaking me down by touching me and knowing it’s driving me absolutely mad.
They want me to beg, I just know it, but I won’t beg them for anything.
When the door opens, I curl up, knees to my chest as I try to hide everything from view. I’m covered in Angelo’s marks, which I know he’s happy about, but I’m less pleased—and I don’t know how the other two will take it.
I tense when Victor steps into the room. He’s the absolute last person I want to see—except maybe Pavone himself—and I glare at him as he closes the door behind him. “What the fuck do you want?” I snarl, and I’m not sure if I’m angrier at him or myself for what had happened the last time he’d gotten close to me.
Victor’s expression doesn’t change at all. That’s what gets me about him. With Angelo and Saint, I can sort of tell what they’re thinking, but Victor just looks at me with his cold eyes that seem to penetrate my very being.
“I simply came to check up on you,” Victor announces calmly. As if I believe him.
“Right,” I scoff. My arms tighten around my knees. I’m not going to display myself in front of him. “I’m fine. Now please leave me alone. If you want to check on me, send Angelo or Saint. I’d much rather one of them.”
