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His answer is rougher and punishing thrusts.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Marco
I don’t pause to allow her to become accustomed to my body, I pause because she feels fucking amazing. She feels like wet, hot silk—unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
I’ve fucked a lot of women in my life, but every time, I’ve worn a condom. None of them had been virgins and I didn't want to chance that, or a child. Lorena Rose Saracino is my first bare, wet virgin and now, she’s completely mine. I own every part of her and although that shouldn’t fill me with bliss, it does.
I move my hand from her hip to her hair, wrapping around it and pulling her head back so that I can lean down and whisper into the shell of her ear.
“You’re mine now, princess. The dragon has won and no prince will ever be able to save you,” I hiss, a whimper leaving her full lips at my words.
“Your fear, your pain, your suffering and your pleasure—they’re all mine. And now,” I lean back to grip her hips with my hand that has left her hair, my cock thrusting inside of her at a rough and fast pace.
“Now this is mine too,” I say, fucking her like a mad man as her pussy blooms for me like a flower, opening and weeping for me as my cock hits places no other man has touched before.
That shouldn’t make me feel good, the fact that I now have something no one else has the pleasure of coveting, but it does. It makes me feel really fucking good and it only fuels me to fuck her harder and more thoroughly, my balls hitting her ass as I own her with every hard inch of my flesh. I let go of her hands, both of mine gripping her hips now as I continue to slam into her, her fingers grabbing onto the velvet duvet and wrapping it into her fists as shocked and pleasured cries leave her lips.
I spread her knees further apart with my hips, our bodies no longer separate as we merge and become one with every grunt, thrust and moan. A delicious sweat beads at the small of her back and before I can stop myself, I bend down and lick it, the head of my cock kissing her cervix as she cries out, her cheek pressed against the mattress. My fingers bite into the skin of her hips, surely to leave marks after this, but I don’t care. All I can think of right now is how fucking phenomenal her pussy feels around me. It is tight and it is greedy, pulling me in with each thrust and clenching around me with each retreat.
“Tell me. Tell me this is mine.” Her sex twitches around me in response.
I slap at her ass, her little yelp pleases the tortured bastard in me.
“Tell me!” I shout and she lets out a long cry, like she’s howling at the moon.
“It’s yours! Goddamn you, it’s yours!” She shouts and I fuck her even harsher, my hand moving to her back as I press her down hard onto the bed, her ass lifting higher and providing me with an angle that allows me to fuck her even deeper.
It feels like heaven and it shouldn’t.
We are two creatures born to hate one another, but this lust is undeniable for us both. As much as I want this woman to suffer, to beg and plead for mercy, I want her body even more, I want her body more than I’ve wanted anything in a long while. I want to dive in and live there, to never come back out and see the light of day again and that knowledge makes me even angrier. It makes my thrusts even more aggressive.
I let one of my hands leave her hips to travel down to her clit, my fingertips pinching it as her pussy tightens like a fist around my cock, milking me as I roar like a beast above her. She starts to tremble, quaking movements of her flesh that tell me she’s close. But I won’t give her that satisfaction. I told her she would suffer and I am a man of my word.
I release her clit and slap it with my hand, her breathless moan muffled against the mattress. I grip her hip once more and fuck her with all of my power, thrusting her into the bed as she shakes and cries out beneath me, my balls drawing up in response. I know this orgasm is going to be colossal. It’s going to unman me, but I don’t care. I chase it for all that I’m worth until I’m thrown into another dimension, pushing all the way to the hilt and coming deep inside of her tight womb, my growls echoing off the walls.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, my cum dripping out of her as her pussy continues to suck greedily at me for release, but I don’t give it to her. I pull out of her slowly, looking down the small bit of red that decorates my cock, the rest painting the inside of her thighs and swollen sex. I stare at it for a while, waging a war inside of me. A war where one side says to undress her, to pull her into my arms and carry her to the bathtub where I should hold and soak her. The other side of that war telling me to run far, far away. To leave her with her suffering of not being able to finish, to make her pine for me.
The problem is, both sides of this war are wrong. Both sides are thinking of her and they shouldn’t. As I tuck my cock back into my pants and put my belt back on, I shouldn’t be thinking of her at all. I should feel relief, should feel free of her, but I don’t. Instead, I feel even more haunted. Tormented by the witch that she is, the spellcaster that has infected my brain with festering thoughts of her.
When she starts to move, I back away. I swallow the strange lump of confusion that sits in my throat and quickly retreat to the door, where I pause like the idiot that I am. I steal one more glance, turning my head to look at her on the bed, where she now lays, curled up into a ball with tears spilling from her bright, hazel eyes.
“Don’t go,” the witch whispers, forever at work.
I don’t answer her. I don’t make a sound as I turn and walk out of the room slamming the door closed as I rush down the stairs to my office, in desperate need of a drink.
When I get there, I lock my door and go straight to the bar area, not even bothering to search for a glass as I open my bourbon and toss the remainder of the bottle back, the liquid burning my throat. I stare at my reflection in the mirror above the bar, the look on my face a foreign sight.
I don’t look unhinged, I look unmasked. I look like the twenty-seven-year-old man who just buried his father. I look like the boy who had to take on an entire legacy’s worth of business into his own, unknowledgeable hands. My mother would be ashamed of me and I have no doubt that when she sees Lori again, she’ll know what happened. She’ll come running back down here with more venomous words and biting slaps. My mother will call her uncles and follow through with her threat, derailing my ten-year-old plan of vengeance once more. But the sick part of all of this? I don’t care.
I don’t care if she calls the old family from Sicily. I don’t care if she helps Lori escape. Honestly, at this point, it would be for the better. It would get her far away from me so that I wouldn’t be bothered with thoughts of the woman anymore, but even then, I know I would still think of her. She has her claws so far deep into me that no matter what happens, she will haunt me forever.
I slam the bottle down and march to the adjacent bathroom I had installed in my office, stripping my suit from my body as I step into the large glass stall. I turn all six of the jets on, hot water blasting me from all angles as I brace my hands on the shower wall and lean forward, my eyes pinned to my softening erection as the blood of her innocence slowly washes away and down the drain. I know that she wanted it, her body begged for more as I took it, but I know the way I took her will likely sit with her forever. Every girl dreams of her first time in candlelight with flowers all over. They dream of a man taking them with care, with gentleness that I do not contain. It has never been making love for me, it has always been fucking. I don’t think there's a single bit of gentleness inside of me, but for some stupid fucking reason, I wonder if she could bring it out of me.
Her body craves mine, there is no doubt about that. Although her mind may hate me to the ends of this Earth, and God knows it should, her body does not follow. It took me just as much as I took it, coaxing me and calling out of me like the siren that she is while I plundered her sweet depths, and I stole her away from any good man that may have had a chance.
When I think of another man taking her, a jealous rage fills my soul. It breeds and festers through my entire body and, suddenly, I am punching the tiles of my shower.
