Saved: a dark romance

by DD Prince

  I slow blink. And my mouth drops open at the sight of it.

  Alessandro pulls the blankets right off the bed, the box of unknown contents falling to the floor with them. Now there’s no option to cover myself if I wanted to. And I want to, suddenly. I really want to.

  His eyes are moving up and down my body. And he looks totally furious.

  His hand goes to his erection. He’s got ahold of his package as if he’s trying to calm it down or something. Or maybe like it hurts. I don’t know; I can’t read his expression or his body language very well. This isn’t exactly something I’m familiar with.

  “Fuck.” He looks torn.

  And I feel this overwhelming urge to go to him, to put my arms around him and give him some reassurance. I make a motion to move and he points.

  “Not a fucking muscle until I tell you.”

  He begins pacing, just the width of the bed. But he’s pacing that short distance with his massive erection and a scowl on his face. His hair is a mess. A beautiful mess. Because he’s been running his hands through it in frustration. Sexual frustration. Over me.

  “You’ve been saving me for tonight. For my eighteenth birthday. It’s my birthday, but I’m your gift. Are you gonna take me, Alessandro?”

  He jets across the room, whirls and whacks at the small desk, sending the laptop and the desk lamp over the edge. They hit the floor with a crash.

  He thrusts his hands into his hair again and then he’s back at the foot of the bed, holding the railing, white knuckled, and he’s looking at me with so much anger on his face that I’m beginning to regret my actions. Deeply.

  He shakes the footrail of the bed, with fury, with both hands, like he’s trying to strangle it. A strangled angry sound comes from his throat. The bed moves with his motion and I’m frightened of what I’m seeing. Like he’s fighting rage off.

  He takes a big breath. There’s loaded silence for a minute, maybe two. He’s just standing there. His eyes active like he’s mentally calculating, weighing things.

  “Go on, then. Present yourself to me,” he finally speaks, waving his right hand like he doesn’t even care. But he cares. His left hand is still gripping the footrail.

  “Wh-what does that mean?” I ask, stammering.

  He straightens up and looks down at me.

  “Knees up, together.”

  I lift my legs a little so that the soles of my feet are planted on the mattress. My heart is racing. But, it’s damp between my legs. It feels like there’s a pulse down there.

  “Backs of your heels to your ass, knees stay together.”

  I do what he says. My knees are up high.

  “Drop your knees. Slowly.”

  I blink a few times fast.

  “Drop your fucking knees. Right now.” His eyes are filled with fire.

  He lets go of the bed and makes a motion with his palms like opening a book. And then his hands go to his waist and he plants them on his hips. He licks his teeth behind his closed mouth and jerks his chin at me, waiting.

  My eyes move to the ceiling as my knees separate until they’re almost touching the bed.

  God, I’m mortified.

  “Soles of your feet together.”

  I match them up.

  “Eyes on me,” he says and then he grabs my ankles roughly and yanks me down a bit more so that I’m closer to the bottom of the bed. He plants my feet against one another again. I feel so exposed. I am so exposed.

  “Arms over your head.”

  I throw my arms over my head, but grab the sheets above me.

  “No. Relax your hands. Submit. You don’t move unless I give you permission. Nothing tensed.”

  His eyes are on me, between my legs. I glance at his face. He hisses behind clenched teeth.

  And then I see that he is holding his dick. His shorts are gone. He took them off at some point.

  My eyes land on it. I’ve never seen one in person before, other than a glimpse when that girl got raped my first night here, but it’s bigger than I expected it to be.

  It’s thick and long there are a few slightly puffy veins running down the length of it. He’s stroking himself. His eyes travel from my breasts to between my legs.

  “You wet, Holly?” He leans over and I see that there’s a clear drop of liquid on the head of his thing, over the small opening. His thumb grazes it and he squeezes, his eyes directly on my vagina.

  I nod.

  He reaches over and his hand moves toward me. My heart is threatening to burst out of my chest and take flight.

  His finger dips and slides between my lower lips and it slides not only due to the motion, but due to how wet I am.

  I’m quivering now, with anticipation, but I’m feeling incredibly shy suddenly so out of reflex, my knees fly up and clamp nearly shut. They don’t completely shut, though, because he slaps between my legs and the sting right across my vagina is practically ringing. He then grabs both of my knees and roughly shoves them.

  “I said, open! You upped the ante, baby. Now you face the fucking music. You’re gonna wish you never started your shit with me.”

  There’s a vein popping on his forehead.

  “Damn you for fucking doing this,” he snarls.

  My heart drops. My stomach pitches. I break out in a cold sweat. He’s so mad at me. Was he not going to do this tonight? Was he just trying to scare me and now I’ve gone and pushed my luck?

  I want to close my legs. I want to hide my face.

  “Look at me,” he demands, “Eyes on me.”

  His fingers move away from between my legs and he plunges them right into his mouth. He lavishly licks them and the look he gives me is like he wants to murder me.

  “You can’t undo it now. The monster you’ve been kept safe from? Now he’s seen your cunt, tasted it, and he’s all fucking yours. You opened Pandora’s box and you can’t shove him back in and re-lock it, Holly. You ready? Shit’s about to go down.”

  A tear is rolling down my cheek.

  That whole time, he kept stroking his cock. He kept doing it while staring into my eyes and letting his eyes wander over my naked body. He’s still doing it.

  “Ready to lose your virginity? Been dreaming of it for how long? How many times did you imagine me ripping this beautiful pussy open wide? How gently and sweetly did I take your hymen and shred it, mi pequeña flor? Did I kiss you? Did I stroke your face and cup your chin? I did, didn’t I, like you drew? Did I go slow by rubbing and licking your sweet little clit, getting your tight little cunt all juicy so it wouldn’t hurt too much? Did I hold you tight all night long afterwards? Or did I rip you open rough and leave you lying bleeding in a puddle of your tears?”

  “Stop it.” I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been.

  “Shut your manipulating mouth,” he snaps. “Unless I tell you to open it because I’m ready to ram my cock down your throat.” He’s breathing hard. “Ram it until tears are streaming down your face because I keep hitting that gag reflex, because I won’t let up until your tears and spit are mixed with my come.”

  I choke on my feelings and begin to sob. I squeeze my eyes shut tight.

  “Open those fucking eyes! Don’t make me tell you again.”

  I gasp.

  “Still think I’m your fucking prince, protecting you like my protected princess in the tower until I can rescue you?” He’s stroking faster and faster now on his cock, “Or do you think you can rescue me and make me be a good man?”

  I’m sobbing.

  “Your tears, little girl, fucking gorgeous.” He squeezes, grunts, and then creamy white streams land across me, dotting my stomach, my breasts, and a little bit on my pubic bone, just above the start of my slit.

  And then he’s mere inches from my face and his hand glides all through the mess he made on me. He wipes it all over, spreads it around. He rams three wet fingers into my mouth and it’s him and me.

  I’m not crying anymore. I’m tear-stained, sticky, and staring at him in absolute and complete
shock with his fingers in my mouth. His chest is rising and falling rapidly and the eye of that storm in his eyes? They are burning holes into me, like he’s an angry wronged beast that just got let out of the cage so that he can take vengeance on those who locked him up.

  And then his fingers are gone and it’s his mouth that’s on mine. He’s not doing what I can confidently call kissing. Kissing is something I think of as giving. This isn’t that. This is taking. Marking. He’s marked me by coming on me, put himself inside me not through sex but through shoving his come-coated fingers into my mouth.

  Now he’s kissing me in a bruising and painful way. It’s like he’s fucking my mouth with his tongue.

  He grabs a handful of my hair and is using it to hold me still against his mouth. It hurts. My scalp is on fire. He’s kissing me for what feels like a long time. I’m not really kissing him back because there’s no way to do that. He’s got me immobile. His mouth is moving so insistently, so possessively over me that I can’t participate. I’m simply taking what he’s giving to me.

  He starts grinding against me. He’s hard. Again, or still? I don’t know.

  I’m flipped over onto my stomach and I instantly brace.

  He pushes his dick between my butt cheeks and then I feel the tip poised against my opening. I clench my teeth. He shifts and fluidly rams his hard cock into me but it’s not into my vagina.

  He’s ripped right into me from behind. I know he’s torn my asshole. He’s rammed in hard and right to the hilt. I scream. He’s still for a second and I feel the tension in his body as if it is the entire room. He begins moving, thrusting, slowly, deeply.

  It hurts so badly. I’m crying and gasping. I’m struggling, kicking, and grabbing at the sheets, but it doesn’t help. He’s pumping, drilling in and out, over and over. There’s a slapping sound permeating the room.

  “Don’t struggle like this is rape. This is what you asked for. You get into my bed naked? This. This is what you get when you try to seduce me repeatedly through the mirror, when you let me catch you in my bed rubbing your cunt. No gentle deflowering for you today, baby. I’ll save the technical deflowering until our wedding night. Tonight, at least your ass was mine. If you’d been a good girl… fuck. Fuck you’re so tight.” He stops talking for a second and then growls, “Next time be a good girl and follow my fucking directions and maybe I won’t go in dry.”

  I’m thrashing and crying as the pain continues searing through me.

  He’s grunting, he’s grabbed my hands and is now holding my arms above my head, his hand clamped over my pushed together wrists.

  His other hand goes to one of my hips and his fingers are digging in hard.

  His mouth is against the back of my neck.

  “Alessandro, please,” I cry out and he slows but deepens his pace, and then I feel him come inside my ass.

  He stills. He’s put most of his weight on me.

  His hand is suddenly in my hair and then I’m turned to my back. His lips are against mine again.

  “You’re beautiful. My beautiful Holly. Mine. Only mine. But you’re most beautiful when I make you cry.”

  My lips are sore and swollen, and I can taste blood from biting my lips so hard, but it only takes a moment for me to realize that this is a different kiss from before.

  This kiss has turned tender, filled with emotion. This kiss coaxes my lips to part. His tongue doesn’t take, it tastes, then dives in to twirl around with mine and make tingles work their way through to my nipples.

  How or why that’s happening with my butt hole a ring of fire, I have no idea.

  His thumb is swiping across my nipple, which is pointy and super-sensitized, and then his hand is on my jaw, gently, sweetly. Before I can think through my actions, I’m thrusting my fingers into his hair. I desperately want to cling to him. I want to draw comfort from him. I’m so raw and sore and broken. I just need to take comfort from him.

  He lets me.

  I’m crying and kissing him and holding him tight while the tears trail down my face. And he’s kissing me like his life depends on it. He’s letting me kiss him back and I’m doing it. I’m going for the gusto.

  I pull back and look at him. The look of pain on his face is tearing a hole in me. He did this to me, but yet he looks like he’s the one who has been ripped apart.

  He still has me by the face. His eyes are closed tight, his mouth is contorted painfully. His jaw is hard. He keeps clenching. His eyes open and lock with mine for a beat, two beats, three. And then he looks like he’s about to roar in anger.

  He abruptly lets go of me and I tense up. I’m afraid of what’s next, but then he rolls over me so that he’s behind me. He spoons me and his mouth is on the back of my head.

  His fingers go between my legs. He’s rubbing me.

  He’s rubbing me and I’m hurting. Hurting and hurling through some strange world of conflicting sensations. My rear end is killing me.

  He sinks his teeth into my shoulder as he keeps rubbing circles between my legs and I begin to tremble. Pleasure and pain are braided together. My eyes are closed and I’m warring in some sort of confused and pleasure-driven state. It’s a three-way tug of war between pain and embarrassment and arousal. He’s rubbing faster, harder, and then he’s kissing the spot he’s just bitten. And then he rises on an elbow and his mouth moves over to my mouth and he’s kissing me again while circling faster. I cry out into his mouth as I come, hard. Harder than I ever have before.

  He rubs my asshole, which I can tell is all puffy and bleeding. I wince, sucking in a hiss as I shudder, floating back to the earth from some otherworldly place.

  “Sleep,” he orders and then kisses my head and moves away for just a beat and then the blankets are thrown over me.

  His left arm is around my waist and my hand is on top of his hand. My eyes close and my fingers tighten, threading with his. He squeezes, too.

  I sink down to a place where I don’t have to process this. Where I don’t have to think about the fact that he came on me and inside me and gave me an orgasm, but that I’m still technically a virgin. He kissed me painfully and then kissed me sweetly.

  We’re both naked and my bum feels like it’s bleeding. It stings so badly. My stomach and breasts are sticky.

  But I’m in his arms. He’s holding me like he loves me. Like he needs me.

  I feel his strength at my back, around me. His other arm snakes under me and wraps around my chest and now I’m completely wrapped up in his arms.

  He’s not making a sound. He’s holding me so tight I’m almost struggling to breathe. But I’m pretty sure those are tears, his tears, that are making the back of my neck feel wet.

  I obey his order to sleep. I’m absolutely shattered, so shattered I can’t even process everything that just happened. I only know that thing he and I have? We’re in this together.

  Happy birthday to me.

  ***

  I wake up alone. It’s finally light out. I’d woken four or five times, at least, through the night, wrapped in his arms, nuzzling in, running my hands over his warm hard naked body, and falling back to sleep. And he’s nuzzled back. Touching my hair, kissing my face, my shoulder. Asleep together, him vulnerable to me? I can’t describe how intimate it felt, how much I adore it. Until I wake alone.

  I feel so alone. Like part of me is missing.

  I sit up and wince at the pain in my backside.

  There’s still a mess. The room looks like a tornado has been through it. I throw the blanket back and look down and see darkness spotted and streaked on the navy-blue sheets. My blood. But not from where I thought I’d bleed.

  I get up.

  I move to the bottom of the bed and see the box. It’s the size of a box you’d get a dozen roses in, but it’s black and has a suede finish to it.

  I lift the lid off carefully. Inside is a figure eight of dark grey velvet ropes with a spring closure hook at each end. I look up at the ceiling and see the silver rings glinting from the canopy. I c
hew my lip and close the lid.

  He was going to suspend me last night. Was he just gonna scare me?

  I pad to the bathroom, past the large open area that has a shower and a bath as well as a long marble vanity, to a door that leads to where there’s a toilet, bidet, and another sink.

  I touch back there with my fingertips while I’m sitting on the toilet in his big luxurious bathroom with a sunk-in tub in the corner and a shower stall that’s large enough to hold a football team. It feels almost normal again back there. But, it still hurts.

  I step in to the massive shower with multiple heads and turn it on. It’s soothing. There’s only some manly stuff for shampoo and body wash. I use it, luxuriating in the scent, as it’s him.

  But, shouldn’t I feel disgusted?

  I should.

  I don’t.

  After how it ended? Him making me climax. Him holding me all night.

  I spent the night with him. We both came, him more than once. But, I’m still a virgin.

  I wander back out to the bedroom wrapped in a towel and see the bed has been stripped and the black box is gone. I grab my housecoat and the bra and panties that were on the floor but are now on the chair beside the desk. I take them back to the bathroom and dress in them. When I come out, I see that Maria is coming out of Alessandro’s large walk-in closet with a suitcase.

  “Hola, Holly,” she says with a smile and then goes into his armoire and has several pairs of socks. She drops them on the bed and then goes back to the closet and returns with several suits., throwing them across the end of the stripped bed.

  Where is he going?

  “Food es you room?” she asks.

  I guess she’s telling me my breakfast is in my room.

  “Senor Romero say… you bed room. To go.” She waves at the door.

  I nod and tighten the sash on my peach satin robe, and go.

  Romero. Alessandro Romero. Information is flowing at me these days. Mere weeks ago, he didn’t have a name. Now he doesn’t just have a name, he’s said he’ll be my husband if it comes down to it. Will it come down to it? That means I’ll be Holly Romero.

  But what else does that mean?