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“Alma isn’t a virgin. She told me so.”
“I’m not Alma,” I remind him.
He swallows thickly, and his jaw works furiously as he peers down at the mess again. Then, without another word, he pulls out of me, eliciting a cry at the abrupt emptiness he’s left.
As if I’ve caused some great offense, he dresses in a hurry and leaves, slamming the door so violently in his wake that it bounces open again. But he doesn’t return to close it.
I remain there with my thighs still spread, my core aching from the loss of my virginity, and my clit still throbbing with the need for release.
It takes me a long while to sit up, and when I do, I see why Luca freaked out. There’s so much blood. No one ever told me there would be so much. His once crisp white sheets are ruined.
Is that why he’s so upset? He just got his jollies while all I got was a sore pussy, andhe’smad?
Indignation fills every cell as I slide off the bed. Absolutely livid, I stomp to the door and slam it. Once again, it bounces off the jamb, and I’m forced to shut it gently.
Then I go into the bathroom to clean myself. It stings when I wipe a moist cloth across my slit, and I wince. There’s too much blood for this type of cleaning. I’ll have to shower. He was too big and too rough.
You said you like it rough. I hope that’s true, because your pleasure will be the least of my concerns.
His threat comes back to me as I step under the cool jets. He certainly followed through. It was a merciless fuck, just as he intended. I didn’t come. He made sure of that too.
But…
Closing my eyes, I relive every second of it. The feeling of his calloused hands on my skin, his brutal kiss. So much of it hurt, and yet, I didn’t want it to end. It was almost as if the more punishing his fuck was, the more it set me on fire.
Even now, I find myself getting wet. Heat once again pools in my center and makes me needy for that release he denied.
Before I know what I’m doing, I slide one palm over the hardened peak of my breast and down my belly, then gently press it against my core. It doesn’t take much to create the exact pressure I need. Though I never had sex until today, I’ve had years of practice with my own two fingers to know exactly how to pleasure my own damn self.
Except I don’t have to do it all alone this time.
I conjure up the image of Luca. He may have refused to finish the job in person, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make him do it in my mind.
Suddenly, my hand is his, and he’s delving between my folds, searching for my clit. I bite my lower lip when he finds it and touches it lightly. He teases it, running the tips of his fingers over it. Back and forth, again and again, until I’m swollen and on the edge.
“Come for me.” His order is a faint whisper, created with the memory of his deep voice.
Yet my body responds to it as if it were real and, this time, I do come on command.
My release is short and almost painful within my flesh that’s still tender. When the last of the throbbing ebbs, I drop my hand and rest my forehead on the cold tile. I’m relaxed, but not satiated. Not really. For some reason, I wasn’t able to achieve the same level of satisfaction I have in the past. It’s sort of like when you want steak but settle for a burger.
Disappointed, I remain in the shower for a long time, wondering if somehow losing my virginity broke me. Hoping it’s just a matter of exhaustion.
When I finally come out of the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy white towel, I find that the bloodied sheets have been replaced. Someone came in, cleaned up the room, and even left a silver tray with an assortment of cheese, fruit, and bread on the dresser. I pick a sliver of moldy cheese and sniff it.
“There are other options in the kitchen.”
I scream and clutch the cheese to my chest in an effort to keep the towel in place as I whirl around to the sound of the feminine voice.
A plump woman dressed casually in khakis and a white button-up shirt, her salt-and-pepper hair in a bun, is standing by the closet door with a gentle smile on her face. She’s holding a pair of hangers and a few shirts, as if she was in the process of hanging them when I came out.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says. “I’m Nan.”
Laughing nervously, I shake my head. “It’s all right. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be in the house.”
“Well, I’m under strict instructions to do the bare minimum. But in a house this size, that still means a full day’s work.”
“Are you the housekeeper?”
