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Another nod. This time I can tell it’s a real nod, not just a spasm or involuntary reaction. Instead of trying to stop me, she touches my back, resting her palms just above my ass and over my t-shirt. Her hands would feel better directly against my skin, so I pause to pull off my shirt.
I lean down to kiss her again, and her hands come up to rest on my back. I can feel the tips of her nails, digging into my skin, and it makes me smirk. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but she’s not fighting against me anymore.
“Time to take that breath,” I say, wrapping my hand around her throat. I give her a few seconds to inhale, and when she’s filled her lungs, I squeeze.
Her body’s reaction is instantaneous. Her cunt goes even tighter, pulsing around me, and it feels amazing. Her fingers claw at my back, but the discomfort is washed out by the pleasure. I bend down to kiss her open mouth, nibbling on her lip, but it’s hard to be coordinated when my mind is this fuzzy.
I can feel my orgasm building. My balls draw tight, and I let go of her. With her first sharp inhale, she comes, convulsing around my cock. I pull out and thrust in a few more times, and that’s it. I give over to pleasure, emptying my balls into her.
Fuck, that was amazing.
I draw out and collapse next to her on the lawn, pulling her close. I feel completely drained, but in a good way. My anger isn’t gone, but it’s less present. More of a simmer now.
“You have fun, Princess?” I ask jokingly.
There must be enough mirth in my voice to reassure her that I’m not going to suddenly stab her in the chest—even though the impulse is still there, in the back of my mind—because she replies raggedly, “Tons,” before collapsing down onto the ground, breathing hard.
Idly, I push my hand between her legs to smear the cum dripping out of her. “You came. I felt it.”
She’s silent, not giving me the satisfaction of an answer—a verbal one, anyway. Her body has already told the truth.
“If you liked being choked, you should have just said. I’ll give it to you anytime.” Probably not with Victor or Saint in the room, though. Saint especially is too soft for this kind of stuff. “You really didn’t fuck Ricci?”
Not that she’d probably tell me if she had, not after all that. I search her expression, demanding the truth.
“Really. I’ve never even been alone in the same room with him,” she says, her voice rough.
Between her voice and the beautiful bruises around her neck, I can’t hold myself back. I kiss her again, a lot slower this time. Gentle, really. I’m gratified with how she kisses back, going soft underneath me.
After a few moments of lying on the hard ground, I get up, even going as far as to offer a hand to her to help her up. She takes it, wobbling as she gets to her feet. She leans heavily against me for a moment until she steadies herself and takes a step back. I reach down to grab the knife, and she freezes.
I flash a smirk at her. “Just don’t want someone to step on this. Sorry if I scared you, Princess.”
She doesn’t look like she believes my “apology” at all, and I only like her more for her skepticism.
16
Lucia
Iwake slowly, stretching in the bed before freezing as I realize that I’m not in the basement on that miserable mattress under that thin, uncomfortable blanket. It takes me a moment to figure out where I’m at: the suite they’d first given me when I’d started cooperating with them.
I barely remember showering after Angelo’s brutal fuck in the garden, but I remember soft hands helping me into the bed and tucking me in. Saint. It had to be Saint, because he’s always the gentle one with me.
My surprise at being alone fades quickly enough, though, when I open my eyes to see Victor sitting in the chair across from the bed.
He’s reading a book, not looking in my direction, but somehow he knows I’ve woken. “Good morning, Lucia.”
My entire body aches. The water had been cold by the time I’d gotten back upstairs to find it still running from when Angelo had pulled me out of the shower. I’d hoped for something warm to soothe my body, but I hadn’t been that lucky. The only mercy had been the comfortable, warm bed. “Good morning,” I say, touching my throat when my voice comes out a little rougher than what I’m used to.
Victor turns the page and says nothing. I’m content to let him play his game, because I’m in no mood to speak to any of these assholes. I just want to rest. If it’s morning, then I must have slept over ten hours, but I’m still exhausted.
I close my eyes. I’m not going to beg for his attention. If he’s in here, he’s here to see me—I wasn’t the one to seek him out, and I could probably turn over and go back to sleep easily.
“Well done,” Victor says calmly, and I hear him shut the book.
Well done? I haven’t done anything. I glare in his direction, but now he’s only staring at me. The urge to pull the covers completely over myself is strong, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me unnerved.
He doesn’t say anything else though. No follow up, no prompting, just his creepy stare. Hiswell donecircles in my mind. What is he talking about? What is he praising me for when he’s been so cold up until now?
