"I can't," she admits as she ducks her head shyly, staring up at me through her thick lashes. "It's my guilty pleasure."
Guilty pleasure.
"Are you ashamed you love it?"
"Always."
"Are you ashamed you love me?"
She hesitates for a second before whispering, "sometimes."
She says it like she's afraid for me to hear it, like she's afraid of my reaction.
But the thing is, I know how she feels.
I know the shame and the turmoil.
I know how it feels to love someone you shouldn't.
I fell in love with her.
It was my worst nightmare.
But sometimes nightmares are simply fueled by fear... fear of something we don't understand. A clown isn't scary when it takes off its makeup. A monster isn't so terrifying when you turn on the light. My enemy was my enemy until I looked inside of her and realized we weren't so different, after all.
She talks to me about regret, but what she doesn't realize is that even if she destroys me in the end, I'll never want to erase what we have. I'd never want to take back a single moment of this.
I'm not heartless—my heart is just hardened, while the rest of me is hollow. But she breathes life into what long ago stopped trying to live.
She's oxygen, and without her, I'm dead.
Her eyes dart to the floor as her head lowers even more. My hand trails further up, cupping her chin so she'll meet my gaze. "I know how you feel."
"Do you?"
"I told you before—I like you, and that's a problem for me."
"Have you found a solution to that problem yet?"
I smile, my thumb gently caressing her face. "I have."
She's silent for a few beats before she whispers, "What is it?"
"Marrying you."
All at once her expression shifts as she rolls her eyes. "How is that a solution?"
"Well, you won't be a Rita anymore."
As soon as I say it, she pushes against my chest, catching me off guard as she slips around me. I reach out and catch her wrist, holding her there before she can walk away.
She spins back in my direction, sighing exasperatedly.
I can't help it.
My cock twitches as the sound comes from her lips.
"I'll always be who I am, Ignazio," she says seriously. I hate when she calls me that name but once again my cock twitches. She's furious. And that? I fucking love it. "You could drain every drop of blood from my body and it wouldn't change anything. It's in my cells. My body. It's in me, every single part of me."
She yanks her arm from my grasp, but she stands there, not walking away.
"I'm not going to marry you because I'm a Rita. That's not a solution. I'd rather you just kill me now if that's all this is to you... if it's just some stupid alternative to ending my life. When I marry you, it'll be despite that fact, just like I'm here with you right now despite it."
She's upset, ranting, and continues to go on and on, but I'm caught on something she said seconds ago.
When I marry you...
Not an if.
A when.
I catch myself smiling, and she catches it, too. Eyes narrowed, scowling, she spits venom at me in the form of scathing words. "What the hell do you find so amusing?"
"You," I admit, laughing and stopping her when she tries to walk away from me again. "Ah, don't be that way. It's your fault, really, for being so beautiful when you get angry."
"You're crazy."
"I am," I say. "You make me that way."
There's no arguing that fact.
She merely glares at me.
"Come on," I say pulling her closer. "I want to know what turns you on. Is it role playing?"
She slowly shakes her head.
"Threesomes?"
She scrunches up her nose. Thank God. I'm not sure I could share this woman with anyone.
"Dirty talk?"
She lifts a shoulder in a half shrug as her cheeks flush. I take that as a 'yes'.
"Being watched?"
There's the reaction I've been waiting on, the flush extending down her neck, her lips twitching as she averts her eyes.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
I pull on her, and she doesn't resist, letting me slip my hand into hers and lead her outside, onto the balcony. It's near dusk, the sky a vibrant pink and orange swirl that's slowly fading into darkness. I pause on the balcony and gaze at her, eyes raking down her body.
This is going to be fun.
Letting go of her, I take a step back, holding my hands up to stop her before she follows me. Her brow furrows, but she listens, watching me warily as I take another step and sit down on an oversize lounge chair, long and wide enough that I can stretch my legs out and still have plenty of room.
I settle in, relaxing back, and kick my shoes off before looking at her again.
She's fidgeting nervously. Good.
"Strip."
The word sets her face on fire, cheeks bright red, eyes widened with shock. "What?"
"Strip," I say again. "Take your clothes off."
She doesn't move an inch. "I thought you wanted to play around, that we would..." Her eyes dart toward the glass doors leading back into the room. "That you'd, you know..."
"Playing around isn't always about me. I was rough on you last night. Tonight we'll try something different."
"Oh."
That's all she says, like she never considered we could play around any other way that didn't involve violence.
I nod toward her as I say the word for the third time. "Strip."
This time she doesn't question it.
Reaching down, she grasps the bottom of her dress and quickly pulls it over her head before letting it drop to the floor, leaving her in a strapless black bra and a matching thong. She kicks off her shoes before hesitating, eyeing me questioningly.
I nod, encouraging her to go on.
The bra hits the patio floor within seconds before she hooks her thumbs on the sides of her thong, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes as she yanks them down. She stands there afterward, completely naked, but positions her arms in front of her in an attempt to shield her body.
I just stare at her, taking in every curve that she'll let me see.
She fidgets more from the unabashed attention.
"Well?" she says, a bite to her words. "Are you happy now?"
Huh. Defensive.
I like it.
"Very," I confess. "Although, your stripping skills could use a bit of work."
"Yeah, well, excuse the fuck out of me. You just said take them off... wasn't aware I was supposed to put on some Def Leppard and make a show of it."
"Now you know for next time."
She rolls her eyes, and I can't help but laugh.
"So is this how we're playing around today? Humiliating me?"
"No, but I'm intrigued by the fact that you're humiliated. I was under the impression being watched turned you on."
"This is different."
"How so?"
She groans with frustration. "It just is. You're looking at me, and you're not saying anything."
"What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know." She throws her hands up in exasperation, forgetting she was trying to cover herself. "Anything!"
I motion for her to come closer and she obliges, stepping right over to me. As soon as she's close enough, I grasp her hips, pulling her down onto the lounge chair with me. She straddles my lap, her hands resting between her legs.
"I love every inch of you," I tell her. "Every part of your body that makes you nervous gives me pleasure. I see no flaws, nothing for you to be ashamed of or humiliated over... nothing you should hide from me. I've seen it all, and I love it. You're beautiful, baby."
Her expression softens, shoulders relaxing. "That's the first time you've ever called me that."
"Called you what?"
"Baby,"
she says quietly. "You never call me that."
"Does it bother you?"
"What? No, of course not." She looks at me like she's legitimately confused. "Why would it?"
"Some women find it degrading."
"Not me. It makes me feel..." She smiles softly as she trails off. "Well, you know."
"Makes you feel what?" I ask curiously.
"Like I'm special," she says. "Like you cherish me. Like you love me."
"I do," I say, my hands drifting from her hips up to her chest, my fingertips grazing her breasts, thumbs brushing against her erect nipples. "I'm in love with you, baby."
She smiles when I say it again, biting down on her bottom lip to fight off a full-blown grin. Had I known the word would have such an impact on her, I'd have said it long ago.
And I would've said it over… and over… and over again.
I kiss her softly, tweaking her nipples as she squirms against me. My lips move from hers, tracing her jawline, before I whisper in her ear. "Touch yourself."
Her eyes widen as I pull away, relaxing back in the chair. "Seriously?"
I nod, my hands moving back to her hips. "I want to watch."
"I, uh..." She's nervous again. "I don't know."
"Just lay back and close your eyes," I say. "Show me how you pleasure yourself."
It doesn't take much more coaxing before she lies back on the lounge chair between my legs, her head at the end near my feet. She shifts around, inching closer. Her hands cup her pussy, just covering it for a moment, before she slowly starts touching herself. It's stiff at first, her movements rigid as anxiety eats at her, but the more she rubs, the more her body loosens up. She traces circles around her clit, my eyes drawn to her red nail polish against the glistening pink as she spreads her legs wider, giving me a better view.
My cock is so hard it hurts, straining my pants as it throbs. I'm desperate to pull it out, to stroke it fast for some much-needed relief, but I'm frozen, awestruck, watching her. I caress her skin, my hands gently running from her knees up her thighs and back again.
She writhes, rubbing faster, harder, as she starts to whimper. She's getting close already. The sound, I'm convinced, is going to fucking kill me.
Death by orgasm... and it's not even my own.
I was wrong. I thought she was most beautiful doing nothing, but no other moment touches this one. She trusts me, I realize. Trusts me enough to let go, to show me the her no one else ever sees, the her she is when she's all alone.
The her that only Karissa really knows.
Her whimpers turn to cries. Her back arches. I feel the muscles in her legs clench, her knees locking and toes curling as orgasm tears through her.
"Oh God," she moans. "Uhhh, Naz!"
Eyes closed, giving this to herself, and she cries out for me. Me. I nearly come in my fucking pants. A groan vibrates my chest as my hands settle on her inner thighs, gripping hold as she trembles from pleasure. It only lasts a few seconds until she stops rubbing, until she collapses back onto the lounge chair.
She doesn't look at me. She just lays there, her breathing strained as she cups her pussy again. I loosen my grip on her thighs, my hands coming to rest on her knees. My thumbs lightly stroke her kneecaps and it only takes a few seconds before she giggles.
She's ticklish.
Her eyes peek open and meet mine. I can tell she's still nervous, but she's smiling like she's relieved.
"I'm glad that's over," she says.
"Oh, but you're wrong," I reply. "That was only beginning."
I slip off the lounge chair and grab her hand, tugging her to her feet. Her legs are wobbly as I pull her across the balcony.
"Wait, where are we going? What are we doing? Wait!"
I don't respond. Answering is senseless. She knows exactly what I'm doing as I tug her over to the wall surrounding the balcony. It's only a few feet tall, stopping in the middle of her torso as I pull her in front of me, her back to my chest, and press her up against it.
Her hands immediately come to rest on her breasts. We're too far up for anyone on the ground to get a good look at her. She'd be nothing but a vague shadow in the impending darkness at that distance. But tall buildings surround us, wide-open windows facing us.
Plenty of opportunity for the overly curious to appreciate the gorgeous view she's giving the city of Rome.
"Naz," she hisses as I unbuckle my belt, doing just enough to grasp my cock and pull it out. "What do you think you're doing?"
Stroking a few times, I press up against her, having to bend my knees. I push her legs further apart with my own, rubbing the head of my cock along her entrance. She repeatedly says my name, trying to get me to answer her, resisting with words but her body buckles to my every whim. She seems to instinctively arch her back, sticking her ass further out, as she rises up on her tiptoes for me.
"Naz, dammit," she says. "You're crazy."
"You already said that," I groan as I slowly push inside of her. "Now you're just repeating yourself."
She's always been tight, but it's even more constricting at this angle. Her body hugs mine as I slide right in home. She says my name again—Naz—but this time it's not a sign of protest. It's a sigh of surrender, a moan of pleasure, as she sags against the cold concrete and welcomes me inside of her.
One arm snakes around her waist, holding her there, pulling her back into me, as my other hand slips up her chest, between her breasts, coming to rest at the base of her throat as I force her upright so she can't try to hide anymore. She grasps my forearms tightly but doesn't fight me, holding on like I'm stabilizing her.
I move slowly. I have to. The angle is shit, our heights mismatched, the universe working against us, but it's enough to do the trick. It's not about fucking—it's about feeling. About giving her what I know will get her off. And I can tell, the way she lets her weight rest against me, succumbing to my hold, that I got her right where I want her.
She's practically waving a white flag.
She's mine.
"Baby," I whisper into her hair. "Baby, baby, baby…"
She shivers. I can feel her body tremble in my arms, like her insides are melting from the word as she thaws for me. My hand around her waist shifts down, just low enough for me stroke her clit to the rhythm of my thrusts. She squirms, her breathing labored, as she relaxes even more, growing comfortable. Goose bumps coat her skin. I can see them crawling up her arms, making their way to her neck as I lean down and trail kisses along her shoulder. Her hold on me tightens, nails lightly digging into the skin, body nearly dropping as the orgasm sweeps through her. I keep her upright, bearing her weight, as I ride her through it, loving the sounds of her cries as she tries to swallow back my name.
It's Heaven and Hell, hearing it. Beautiful torture, fueling an ugly need.
As soon as I'm sure she can stand on her own, I let go of her, pulling out. She tenses, surprised, words halfway from her lips when I spin her around, grasping her hips and lifting her up, planting her ass right on the edge of the wall. She gasps, clinging to me as she lets out a startled cry.
"Relax," I say, laughing. "You're not afraid of heights, are you?"
"No, but—"
"I got you," I say, meeting her eyes, cocking an eyebrow at her terrified expression. "Trust me, Karissa. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
The terror turns to confliction, like she's torn between believing my words and fighting to get away, leaving her stagnant in the middle with tears building in the corner of her eyes. I'm not sure why she's about to cry, but it sure as hell looks like she is.
"I swear to God, Ignazio," she grounds out between clenched teeth as she loosens her hold just a bit, giving me room to breathe. "If you let me die, I will haunt your every waking moment and find a way to kill you personally."
The sheer ferocity in her words makes me smile. I keep one arm securely around her but move the other, running the back of my hand along her flushed cheek. "I know you will."
"I mea
n it."
"I know you do."
"I die, you die."
"I don't doubt that for a moment."
"Good," she says with a sigh, her arms resting on my shoulders as her fingers run through the hair at the nape of my neck. "Now fuck me, before I change my mind about this."
A light laugh leaves me as I push inside of her again, filling her deeper at this angle. I have to lift up some, but it's easier than bending down. I pull her closer to the edge, closer to me, giving me better access as I thrust harder than before, increasing my pace.
She's tense at first but gives in fully after a moment, her restrained moans becoming full blown shouts as darkness falls around us, the only light nearby coming from behind us in the room. We're nothing more than shadows dancing along the wall, the obscurity making her brave.
Oh so brave.
Closing her eyes, she tilts her head back, trusting me to hold her there, to keep her from falling off as I fuck her now, harder and harder, faster and faster. The melodic skin slapping echoes through the silence, mixing with her whimpers and cries.
"You like it, don't you?" I ask, my free hand running through her hair before fisting a handful of it, making her yelp as I pull on it, exposing her neck to me. I kiss her throat, running my tongue along it, tasting her sweat, before digging my teeth in near her chin. "You like it when I'm rough with you."
"I love it," she says breathlessly.
"Because you still trust me to take care of you," I say. "You trust me to be careful with you."
"I trust you."
"Because you still care about me," I say, my lips near her ear. "You love me."
"I do," she whispers. "God help me, I love you."
Before it's even fully from her lips, I force her head back down. Her eyes open, startled, before I smash my lips to hers, kissing her hard. It takes her a second to kiss me back as I let go of her hair and grab her hips, pulling her toward me on the balcony. She slips off the edge of the wall, right against me, my body pinning her there to the concrete. I thrust hard, fucking her with everything in me, grunting as my muscles grow taunt, tension building inside of me.
Fuck, I'm going to come.
I pull from her lips to take a deep breath, my eyes darting over her shoulder, drawn to the building right across the street. A figure stands on an adjacent balcony facing us, close enough to see exactly what we're doing. My lips curve involuntarily, a laugh escaping my lips. "We've got an audience, sweetheart."
Torture to Her Soul Page 21
