She doesn’t say a word as I release her wrists and push the dress off her shoulders. It slips to the floor so she’s standing in a black lace bra and panties. I draw back just a little to look at her before stepping backward. I cross the room to pour another whiskey and take a seat on the armchair setting one ankle over the opposite knee.
“Take off the rest.”
She swallows, glances around again. There’s no escape. She knows that.
For a long moment I just watch her as she battles herself, see an array of emotions pass through her. The most prominent being rage. Eventually she reaches back and unhooks her bra, no slow strip tease for me. Nothing erotic at all as she strips off the rest of her things, stumbling as she tries to step out of her panties before walking toward me, standing just inches from me.
“Is this what you want?” She glances down at my crotch then drags her gaze back up to mine. “You hard for it, Cristiano?”
I let my gaze slide over her naked body, take in the lines of slender, toned muscle, small breasts barely a handful, the neat little triangle of dark hair. I’m slow to return my gaze to hers.
“I am, Little Kitten. I’ve never been this hard for a woman before.”
“I’m flattered,” she deadpans.
I finish my drink, setting the glass down and standing before her. I don’t even have to touch her to walk her back to the bed, my chest brushing hers.
When the backs of her knees hit the bed, her legs bend but she rights herself, standing tall, nipples poking against my chest.
“Now turn around, bend over and spread your legs wide so I can decide which hole I’m fucking first.”
Her hands slap my chest. “Fuck you!”
“That’s my girl.” I grab hold of her wrists and spin her around, breathe in her scent at her neck where her pulse throbs.
“You’ll bend to me, Little Kitten.” I bite the curve of her neck.
“You’ll have to make me.”
“With pleasure.”
I lean over her, pushing her torso down. Keeping her wrists at her lower back, I straighten and use my knee to widen her stance.
She goes still as I take her in, her beautiful ass open to me. My dick is a fucking steel rod.
When I touch her hip, she jumps like she wasn’t expecting it. She’s up on tiptoe, lean calf and hamstring muscles tensing.
“Stay,” I tell her. I let go of her wrists. She remarkably does as she’s told.
Hands on her cheeks, I splay her open, look at her. At her tiny asshole, the open lips of her pussy.
She tries to clench her cheeks, but I keep her open.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this. Your pussy open and wet for me. Your asshole so tempting.” I touch my thumb to her asshole and she clenches.
“Cristiano—”
But her breath catches as I crouch down and extend the tip of my tongue to her clit and lick all the way up through her wet folds to her other hole, laying the flat of my tongue on her as I repeat downward then back again, tasting her, wanting her. Wanting every fucking part of her.
“Oh god,” she whimpers, and I draw back to watch a slow trickle of arousal slide down her inner thigh.
“Fucking perfect,” I tell her, standing. “Stay.”
She does and turns just her head to watch me strip off the rest of my clothes. She licks her lips when I take my cock into my hand and run it through her folds. Her eyes close as I smear her wetness over myself.
“So fucking perfect.” I lean down for one more taste before tugging her to stand, spinning her to face me and kissing her hard.
She doesn’t bite but I wouldn’t care if she did right now. I want this. And she wants this. And neither of us can deny it.
I lay her on the bed, holding my weight on my elbows as I draw back to look at her. My cock is nestled against her wet cunt.
Her eyes have gone dark. I kiss her again, put my hands on her inner thighs to open her wider and when I draw back to look at her, I see a tear.
It sobers me.
She’s probably scared. Doesn’t quite know what to expect.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Scarlett.”
“It’s not…I just don’t understand why I want this,” she admits, another tear sliding down her temple.
I smile to her, kiss her. She kisses me back.
Drawing back, I place a hand on her chest to keep her lying back, using the other to keep one leg spread wide. She doesn’t try to close her legs, however. From here, I can see she’s slick and in spite of her fear, I smell her arousal.
I need to make her come before I take her. It’ll be easier for her.
I dip my head and hear her gasp when I close my mouth over her. Twirling my tongue in a circle around the hard little nub before sucking, I open my mouth wide to take the whole of her, tickling her other hole before returning my attention to her clit.
She gasps my name, her hands to my head, fingers pulling my hair.
“Come, Scarlett. Let me feel you come.”
It doesn’t take long for her to come and I drink it in, the taste of her intoxicating as she calls out my name in a long string. She’s just repeating, repeating, repeating, making my dick throb as if it’s confused why it’s not inside her. Only when her legs relax do I straighten and meet her eyes, a soft caramel now.
She’s so fucking beautiful. So perfect.
I lift her higher on the bed, settle between her legs, my cock at her entrance. I kiss her again, realizing she’s kissing me back, and I don’t think I can get enough of her.
When she feels me at her entrance she tenses.
“I won’t hurt you,” I mutter against her mouth but I’m not sure I’ll be able to help it. Her first time will hurt.
I take her hands in mine, weave my fingers with hers and I push in a little farther. The effort of holding back is taking every ounce of energy I have. I need to take care with her, though. I move slowly, in and out, inch by inch when the animal inside me wants to thrust hard, wants to feel her resistance and rip through it, feel the warm rush of virgin blood.
She’s tight. I swear she’s tighter than any woman I’ve been with, but it’s been a long time, so what do I know. And when she begins panting again, her passage slick, I know she’s ready.
I hold onto her, want to give her something to hold on to. I push deeper, still controlled, expecting resistance, expecting blood.
There’s a moment suspended. Something not right.
Because it doesn’t come.
The fact registers slowly. I pump in and out twice more then stop.
She makes a sound when I do and opens her eyes to meet mine, forehead wrinkled in disappointment.
“You’re not a virgin.”
I can hardly process the silence.
“You’re not—”
“I never said I was.”
I think back and she’s right. She didn’t. I assumed it.
I blink, pull out. I’m still hard. I look down at myself, still searching for evidence to the contrary of what I know is true. But there’s nothing there. No blood.
“You let me believe it.”
I walk away, run a hand through my hair not sure why I care. Why it matters.
No. I know why.
She’s right. She never said she was. But she didn’t correct me either. And it feels like a betrayal. Because after everything, I was still counting on her. On one person I could trust.