He nuzzles his nose into my hair and inhales a long breath. When he releases it, it shakes. I whine.
“Don’t do that,” he says, his voice deceptively soft. “It’s sexy, but I don’t want that right now.” His hand digs between my thighs and urges my legs to part. He cups my sex and squeezes. “I want to hear you moan.”
I don’t moan, but I do gasp. He pulls my panties to the side and slides a finger inside me. He smiles against my ear, and the same thing causing him to smile causes me to grimace.
I’m wet. Soaking. Fucking. Wet.
Why?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
He slowly moves in and out of me, his finger crooking to massage my walls, hitting that sweet, special spot that makes my knees quake.
And he gets his moan.
My eyes close, and I curl my toes into the carpet. They rub against the plush, white threads as I move my feet apart.
“One finger is really enough for you, isn’t it?”
I don’t open my eyes as I nod.
Settimo groans like I’ve just squeezed his balls, and he presses his forehead against my skull. “I’m gonna have to stretch you then.” His once strong, steady tone is broken glass. His desire is so strong, I’m breathing it in and it’s poisoning my brain, making me want this as badly as he does.
I’ve been looked at as a pretty little doll my whole life, driving me to adjust my name, wear unflattering clothes, skip the makeup, all the things that would make me less appealing. Because I didn’t want to be valued for my looks. I didn’t want to be wanted only for my body.
But I’m drinking this shit up like water.
Settimo forces another finger inside me, and my pussy squeezes it. I’d bite my lip off if it wasn’t for the gag.
He pumps, slow at first, him still standing, but when his pace picks up, he drops to his knees.
He lifts one of my legs over his shoulders and viciously assaults my pussy with his hand. With my arms behind my back, it’s only him and my one foot planted on the floor to steady me. I wobble. My knee bends and shakes, and my head hits the post. I tilt my chin toward the ceiling and moan to the gods.
Settimo yanks his hand from my panties and grips the hem. He shreds the flimsy material and catches me when I slip.
He glances up at me. “You good?”
I shake my head and muffle my words past the gag. It’s hopeless to make any sense past this ball.
“No?”
I shake my head and try again, enunciating each word the best I can in a hopeless attempt. Settimo pulls my leg off his shoulder and stands, his hands on my hips steadying me.
He reaches behind my head and unclips the gag. He tosses it on the bed while I gasp and flex my jaw, trying to ease the ache.
“I said,” I take another deep breath, “‘take this fucking gag off’.”
He chuckles and takes my face in his hands, giving me no warning before he crashes into me with a powerful kiss.
Settimo pulls back abruptly and lowers to his knees. When he looks up at me, I feel a surge of power. It rights my dizzying lust, and I stand tall.
“Don’t interrupt me again, Alex.” The way he says it makes me think he’s serious. There’s no amusement to his tone, but after a moment he smiles and winks.
Settimo lifts my leg over his shoulder and dips his head between my thighs.
Again, my head falls back against the bedpost, and I look up at the ceiling, the same one I memorized not long ago. My hands behind my back twitch, and if I could get them free, I’d run them through Settimo’s dark hair, pulling and tugging him to all the right spots and holding him there.
I’ve never been touched like this before. More than that, a man’s never been so close, so intimate with such a private part of me. Settimo’s taking all my firsts faster than he can learn my last name.