by Sam Mariano
Well, if a kiss from the villain woke up the princess. According to Isabella’s story books, that’s not how that usually works.
She offers me a sleepy smile and I brush my lips across hers again, and again, and again. Finally, I break away from her lips and roll her onto her back, moving in to kiss her neck. In anticipation of my ravenous mouth on her sensitive skin, a sigh drifts from Mia’s mouth and goes straight through my veins. I don’t know what it is about every noise she makes that sets me on fire. I’ve never been a stingy lover, certainly, but ordinarily it doesn’t excite me this much to hear the evidence of a woman’s pleasure. Her pleasure matters to me, and I don’t know why.
Since she’s still drowsy from sleep, her defenses are down, her instincts relaxed. For just a moment, she forgets that she’s not supposed to want me and her arms go around me like I’m her lover. She pulls me close, her body arching, her soft skin brushing mine. Desire surges even harder through my veins. Her touch, freely given, is intoxicating. Her fingers skim the muscular surface of my back. Faint moans drift from her soft lips. For this moment, she is really mine.
But then she remembers where she is. Who I am. What I’ve done. Her arms fall. Her interest drops off. It aggravates me. She gave me a hit and then yanked the supply. I want it back.
“Put them back,” I murmur roughly.
“What?” she asks, her voice hoarse from sleep.
“Put your arms around me.”
She hesitates a moment and her brow furrows faintly, but she ultimately obeys. Even though she doesn’t, she holds onto me like she wants to.
Even if she required a little nudge, there’s something softer in her this morning. It’s certainly not the first morning she’s awoken to my ministrations, but it is the first morning it’s felt like she’s giving to me instead of I’m taking.
Her legs open for me without prompting this time. My hand slides up her smooth thigh and between her legs; her head falls back with a sigh of pleasure.
Something’s different this time. There’s an energy that wasn’t there before. Her energy.
She wants me to touch her.
A slide a finger inside her and she moans my name.
Oh, fuck.
I push deeper, her arousal making the passage easy, as I claim her lips. She kisses me back, clutching me against her body desperately, like she needs me. Like she’ll die if I stop.
Jesus Christ.
Is this what consensual sex with Mia is like? How does Vince ever let her out of his room?
How did Vince, rather. Fucking idiot.
I don’t really want to think about him while I have my finger inside his girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—so I drop that thought and dive back into the ocean of Mia. She makes it pretty easy to get pulled back under. Now her hips rock forward against my hand, wanting more. I push a second finger inside her and she gasps, grabbing my hair and pulling me back in for a kiss.
“More,” she whispers against my lips.
I might give her my house if she asked like that. All desperate and sweet, holding onto me like she needs what only I can give her.
I plunge my fingers deeper, harder, watching her face. Her eyes are closed. She wants my touch, but she can’t entirely face it. She wants more, but she’s ashamed to ask for it.
I want to make her come, but I don’t know if she’s ready. Watching her face, soaking up every pleasurable noise that escapes her as she moves restlessly, I adjust my focus, drawing from the pool of her arousal and spreading it as my fingers move to her sensitive clit.
Her body jolts and she gasps, surprised. Clutching my left bicep, she pushes her head back into the pillow and emits a string of moans before her grip on my arm tightens.
“Mateo, please. Don’t make me come.”
I continue my ministrations, paying close attention to her body’s cues. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice edges on desperate. She’s afraid I won’t listen to her.
Not an outrageous concern, I guess.
“Please,” she says again, now trying to move her hips away from the pleasure instead of toward it. “I’m not there yet. I’m trying, but I can’t—I don’t want…”
“All right,” I say, simply. I touch her lower, deeper. The tenseness in her body eases up, but I keep my tone even. “Here’s what I’m going to do. Your orgasms aren’t your responsibility anymore. I’m not going to give you an orgasm because I say it’s not time for one. You’re not ready. But I’m still going to give you pleasure. I want to, and it’s my call, not yours.”
She holds my gaze, curious.
“I will make you come eventually, but you won’t know when. That’s up to me.”
“I get no say?”
I manage not to smile, but the interest in her voice gives legs to some theories I’ve been playing with. Maintaining an authoritative tone, I tell her, “You get no say. Your pleasure is my domain now. When I tell you it’s time, when I tell you to come for me, you will. No fighting me, no stalling, you obey me without question.”
She bites down on her lower lip, considering, then asks, “What if I don’t?”
“You will,” I say simply.
“You can’t just tell a person to have an orgasm. That’s not how orgasms work.”
I grin, circling her clit with my thumb. “Do you really presume to tell me how orgasms work, Mia?”
She’s too overcome by the sensations washing over her to respond.
“I’m still going to give you pleasure,” I tell her again, as I rub her sweet little pussy. “But gentle pleasure. I won’t make you come. I’ll bring you right to the edge and stop. Then I’ll do it again, and again, and again.”
Just my words seem to excite her. “That sounds like torture.”
Pleasure hums through me and I smile again. “Exquisite torture. But I think it’ll get you through whatever the hell this is.”
“Is that your professional opinion?” she asks lightly, eyes still closed.
“It is,” I shoot back, rubbing her until she can’t even moan properly. Her eyes open and she gives me a desperate little look like she wants to tell me to stop. I raise my eyebrows, challenging her to do so.
She doesn’t, but her fingers dig into my bicep as she struggles to resist the orgasm I’m building. Her legs shake, her nails bite into my skin. I don’t stop. I haven’t given her enough orgasms to have the level of mastery over her body I’d like to, but she has to know she can trust me—in this, at least. I have to see if she’ll fight for control when I’m about to do what she asked me not to, or submit and let me do whatever I want.
She submits. I’m pushing her too close to the edge, she’s afraid, but she doesn’t try to take control. If I push her over a line she’s not ready to cross, even if it breaks her mind, she’ll let me.
I ease off. She settles down. Her eyes close and I caress her some more, rewarding her with calm, steady pleasure. Now she’s content as a kitten. I’ve convinced her I know what I’m doing and now I’m making her feel good without the threat of escalating it past a level she’s comfortable with. Without the burden of responsibility, she can now drift along on a sea of pleasure, accepting whatever I dole out.
I watch her face as I start to kindle another orgasm. Her little noises slay me. Her fingers dig into my bedding, leaving impressions that will last long after she’s gone. Maybe not in the fabric, but in my mind.
As her pleasure nears its peak this time, she accepts the euphoric feelings without fear, without shame. She already trusts me not to make her come. I don’t know why she trusts me with anything, but I run with it.
I deny her orgasms four times before she can’t take it anymore. Not bad for her first time. As I pull her back from the brink, though, her whole body trembles and she drags her hands desperately down over her face.
I withdraw my fingers, readjusting my weight, and lean in to kiss her. She’s more pliable than she’s been before. She wraps her legs around my hips, still aroused and coasting on a
blissed out but sexually frustrated wave of affection.
Oh yeah, I’m gonna own her. When I do make her come after all this, it will be the most intense orgasm she’s ever had. She’s already open and vulnerable, easily controlled by sex, but that’s going to be a game changer.
I can’t help thinking about those nights in Vince’s bedroom, the last time I gave Mia orgasms. Now she knows I’m the one in bed with her, but she still has her legs locked around me, her soft lips still open for me. Even after all I’ve done to her.
I reach down to caress her breast as I kiss her. Her back arches naturally, pushing her breast into my hand. I give it a squeeze, brushing my thumb across her nipple. She inhales sharply, her lips breaking from mine. I smile against her mouth, running the rough pad of my thumb over her sensitive, pebbled nipple a few more times.
I flick it and she gasps. I take advantage of her open mouth to deepen the kiss and she pulls me closer with her legs, grinding her pussy against me.
Jesus Christ.
My control snaps for a second, but that’s all it takes. I release her breast, bracing my weight on the bed, and grab a fistful of her golden locks. I don’t give them a loving tug; I yank her hair so hard she yelps and drag her sideways across the mattress. Her legs fall open and she appears startled, bringing a hand to my chest like she’s going to push me away.
I grab her arms and pin them over her head, gazing down at her. Uncertainty flickers in her fearful blue eyes, but there’s still arousal, too. I secure her wrists with one hand but she doesn’t try to break free. When I reach down and shove my cock inside her, she winces, but only briefly. We’ve done this dance before so whether she’s up for it or not, she knows the steps. Her body adjusts within a few hard thrusts. She squeezes her eyes shut as I pound inside her. I’m rough with her this morning. After the tenderness she awoke to, she wasn’t prepared for this, but she takes every bit of the brutality I dole out.
When I feel myself getting close, I release her wrists and impulsively grab her by the throat.
Her eyes fly open wide and she instinctively grabs at my hand. I don’t squeeze hard, not hard enough to damage—only hard enough to scare her. It works, too. There’s fear in her eyes as she looks up at me, waiting. Am I just going to fuck her, or am I going to kill her?
Of course, I don’t kill her. I didn’t want to, even before her fearful blue eyes plead with me to spare her. I certainly don’t after that. She doesn’t know what goes on in my head though; she only knows the dangerous man who’s fucking her suddenly grabbed her by the throat.
I come deep inside her tight pussy and all the violence drains out of me. I collapse against her, so I can feel her heart pounding, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to catch her breath.
Once I’ve had a minute to recover, I pull back and look down to check on her. “You okay?”
Confusion flickers in her gaze again like she’s not entirely sure, but she nods.
“Did I hurt you?”
Swallowing audibly, she murmurs, “I’m just sore.”
Poor girl, she can’t keep up just yet. She doesn’t know if she’s displeased me in some way and we regressed, or…?
Just or. I’m sure she doesn’t know what the alternative might be.
At least, that’s what I figure, but then she finds her voice and asks, “Did you want to hurt me?”
I move off her and roll back into my spot on the bed. “No. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have.”
A few seconds pass, then she scoots back to her own spot, pulling the comforter up to cover her naked body. She drags it all the way up to her neck again, like she needs the cover. I pay close attention. I want to push her, test her limits, see what she’s interested in. Vince has done absolutely nothing to cultivate this virgin territory he fell right into. She has no idea what she likes (neither does he) and he’s not helping her figure it out.
This is why virgins should have more experienced lovers.
Well, aside from their tendency to attach. Some virgins get clingy.
I like clingy, though. I probably should’ve picked myself out a nice little virgin to train instead of goddamned Beth.
Not that Mia isn’t close. She was a virgin a mere month ago and now here she is in my bed. That’s quite the adjustment. I probably should’ve eased her in so as not to scare her off.
Then again, where can she go?
I realize I’m thinking this over like I’m keeping her. I don’t want to deal with that, so I shove it away.
Mia is still processing what just happened. She peers up at me with those big blue eyes, not sure which box to put this in. “You just wanted to scare me?”
“It can be fun to be scared sometimes,” I tell her. “As long as you’re actually safe, what’s the harm?”
“Am I, though? You said as long as I keep you entertained you won’t kill me. Is this what it takes to—?”
She stops short and I can’t refrain from letting cynical amusement roll over me. Is this what it takes? I realize I had no right to hope she was allowing me to fuck her for any other reason—I’m not even sure we can call it fucking; I don’t share her need for boxes, so I don’t frankly care what she wants to call it—but I still manage to feel disappointed.
My voice is a little colder than I intend when I ask, “Will fucking me keep you alive? Sure, for now it will.”
She flinches, her face flushing. “That’s not what I meant.”
I don’t have the patience for it, so I clip, “Sure it is. You don’t have to lie. I understand.”
“No,” she insists, turning on her side and moving closer to me. “That’s not… It sounds horrible when you say it like that. That wasn’t what I meant. It sounds like I’m using…”
I fill in the blank for her. “Using your body to stay alive? Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you? That’s just good sense.”
“Everything you’re saying is awful,” she states.
“Reality often—”
Before I can finish my cynical statement, a cloud of coconut aroma drifts my way and Mia surprises the hell out of me, pressing her bare chest against mine and cutting me off with a kiss.
It does effectively shut me up. Something in my chest doesn’t work quite right—there’s a flood of surprise. A flood of pleasure. I can’t resist kissing her back, even if it’s an apology kiss. Especially if it’s an apology kiss. She certainly doesn’t owe me any kind of apology. Even if she blatantly stated she was using her body to stay alive, how could I possibly fault her for that? Her position is precarious and she’ll do what she has to in order to survive. People use each other for far worse reasons. That’s humanity.
But she tries to make amends, even though she’s not at fault. She feels guilty at the thought of having wounded me, even though I more than deserve it.
Her soft, sweet kisses are the opposite of every cynical thought I was just having. There’s no selfishness here. She’s not trying to smooth down the feathers of her ruffled meal ticket; she’s just trying to say she’s sorry if she hurt my feelings.
God, she is something else.
I’ll have to tuck this knowledge away for future use. I wouldn’t cash in on this often, but it’s good to know I can play the wounded card and her soft little heart will cave right in.
Once she has adequately made her amends, Mia snuggles up against my side, casting me a tentative look to see if her offering was sufficient.
I lean in and drop a brief kiss on her lips to let her know it was.
She smiles up at me, somehow lighter, like it would have weighed on her if she hadn’t been able to fix it. It’s difficult not to note and file away each one of these weaknesses to use against her later. I don’t really want to do that; I just can’t help my instincts, telling me I can run right over her. She’s so goddamn easy to take advantage of, with her big heart and forgiving nature.
I’m unsettled. My chest feels tight—almost like indigestion, only I haven’t eaten anything. Not even her.
That’s a damned shame.
I need to get on that soon. It’s been far too long since I last tasted her.
For now, it’s enough to wrap my arm around her, pull her against my body, and feel her nestle into me. Like last night, she doesn’t wait to unconsciously cuddle me—she chooses to.
I lie awake as she drifts back to sleep.
I don’t deserve her kindness. I know that. I don’t know why she offers it. Even if she wanted to make the best of a bad situation, even if she could stomach fucking me after I outright raped her, there’s no reason for her to be so nice to me. There’s no reason for her to feel guilt at the prospect of hurting my feelings. Just a minute before, I used her body so roughly I might have hurt her.
She’s sweet. I’m sure it’s because she’s young—certainly younger than I would’ve picked out for myself. If I let her live, life would change her, season her with the dirty reality of people, harden all her softness. She would learn to protect herself and worry less about other people.
The sound of my alarm fills me with a foreign sense of dread.
I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to leave my bed. I want to stay right here and enjoy holding Mia while she sleeps. I want to see what she does with her day when she wakes up.
It occurs to me that I can. It’s not what I usually do on a Saturday, but what the hell? I never take days off.
I ease over to grab my phone off the nightstand. The screen lights up and I glance at Mia to make sure she’s still asleep. She is, so I type out my message to Adrian.
“Not going to make it to the gym this morning. Won’t need you to guard Mia, either.”
Not a minute later, he shoots back, “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. I’m taking the day off, so I’ll keep an eye on her myself.”
“You’re taking the day OFF? Are you sick?”
He’s being annoying. “No, I just want the day off. I have work to do from home, but no business today. You can spend today looking into that issue we discussed regarding Mia’s past.”
