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I knew exactly how she felt. I could read it on her face.
“Tell me, princess?” To emphasize my words, I gave her a vigorous rub with my thumb.
“Yes. Do it every chance you get. Santa Madonna, e così sorprendente. It feels so good. More, per favore.
She was losing her head, panting on the verge of an orgasm, and it was more beautiful to look at than a Botticelli painting.
I opened her lips with two fingers and licked her clit, circling it over and over again until she exploded. I could feel her body closing and opening under my lips, and it took the willpower of everything holy to not unzip my pants and take her right there like a barbaric conqueror taking his virgo intacta.
“Hugo,” she called for me desperately and squeezed my neck with her legs, looking for something to keep her in the real world. The way she lost herself in pleasure was a fucking spectacle, and it was worth everything. Money, my soul, my life, whatever it was, I was willing to give.
“This is it, baby girl.”
Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds. That was exactly how long it took for her body to stop spasming. I did a lot of things in this life, some good, some atrocious and some fucking glorious, but nothing ever made me feel more triumphant than satisfying Catherinelle’s needs.
I threw away everything I had worked for in this life for this woman. It only took a second. I was nine when I swore to never be at the mercy of others, and I fought – I fought tooth and nail – and here I was now, slave to a pretty pussy and a pair of lucent eyes.
“Baby,” she whispered and looked down where I was resting my cheek on her thigh. “That was amazing.”
“You’re welcome, princess.”
Her crystalline laugh filled the room.
“Cocky bastard. You have to carry me to bed. My legs don’t work.”
If she kept blowing my ego, my chest might explode with pride.
I picked her up and wrapped her in the knitted throw before carrying her bodyguard style to the master bedroom. I wasn’t anything like that fella, Costner, with his babyface and rosy lips that seemed to make all the ladies swoon, but Cat was way more beautiful than any R&B diva. She was radiating like a fucking sunshine while I was the ashy cloud that sucked her light and hid it away.
I couldn’t help but feel my life had no meaning until today. I didn’t know gentleness until I let her touch me. I didn’t know sweetness until I tasted her on the tip of my tongue, and I sinned every day, watched the life drain out of weak men’s eyes, but today I had desecrated an angel.
When I let her down on the bed, she clutched my arm and pulled me down to lay with her. I tried to not think so hard that I was on my best friend’s bed with his half-naked sister.
“Don’t leave me alone,” she pleaded, nestling into my chest.
I smiled in her hair and inhaled her sweet smell.
“Still shaken from your first orgasm, princess?”
“What are you talking about? That was not my first orgasm,” she said with an idle tone, like we were making small talk at a park when in reality she was hitting my stomach with a metaphoric baseball bat.
I jumped out of the bed like I was in a fucking trance and walked across the house, boiling with a brutish fury. When my hot-headed temper got the best of me, it was always the same – my blood started to run faster; my eyes begin to burn, and I saw the world in red. There was a beastly roar smoldering in my chest ready to come out. It was like my mind was locked on one thing – hurt, destroy, ruin, kill. That was exactly what I wanted to do.
The rational part of my brain turned off; there was just instinct now. Someone touched something of mine, and I wouldn’t feel better until I’d divorced his arms from his body. I was too caught up in my rage episode to hear her bare feet running through the halls in my direction. When Catherinelle finally got to me, I was in the living room taking off the safety of my gun.
“Hugo, what the hell?” I didn’t answer her, but she didn’t give up. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to kill a rat.”
“What’s got into you? Jesus. Is something wrong?”
“Yes, fucking hell, yes, it is. I’m going to go into the city and haunt that fucking piece of filth with blonde hair that dared to put his hands on you.”
“What? Are you talking about Nate?”
Like I would give a fuck about what his name was.
“Show me, Cat. Show me how he put his hands on you,” I grunted through my teeth, unable to articulate properly because my jaw was too tensed.
