He gathered my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head. With his other hand, he spread my thighs as far as they could go. There was a flash of fever in his gaze, a glitter of lust, when his eyes raked over my body, open and spread out for him. His chest rose and fell and a trickle of sweat slid down into the ridges of his stomach as he pushed in with heavy strokes.
“You feel that, baby? You feel how hard your tight, little body makes me? Oh God, put your feet up on my shoulders—just like that.”
He released my wrists and seized my ankles, pulling me close as he sat back into a kneeling position. His lean fingers dug into my calves and he pushed his mouth against the arch of my right foot as he hammered into me. His tongue snaked out and then he bit my ankle, his teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh.
I cried out and he paused, his barren eyes fixing on my face. My heart thudded and, for a brief second, I entertained the possibility of fleeing from him. But it was no use, he would always catch me.
He leaned forward, my ankles still up on his shoulders. His hand snaked around my throat, his fingers pressing into the sides of my neck.
“I thought I told you to be quiet,” he whispered. “Were you quiet? Answer me now.”
I shook my head quickly.
“You want to know what happens to bad girls?” he asked, cocking his head.
I shook my head again.
“They don’t get fucked gently,” he said hoarsely. “They get fucked like little whores, on their knees with their face in the bed.”
He flipped me over and took me by the back of the neck, pinning me down. His heavy cock breached my pussy again, thrusting all the way home until a twinge of pain went through my hips. He put his hand on the headboard to steady himself and his hips began driving into me in a relentless rhythm.
My life flashed before my eyes. This was another level. He’d never even come close to fucking me like this, even the night of the opera. His cock hammered into me, hitting my innermost point and dragging across my G-spot with every stroke. I dug my fingers into the bed, turning my head just enough to let me breathe, and gave everything up to him. He wanted to use me, to mark me, to claim my body, and if this was how he did it, so be it.
He wasn’t a good man. His desire for power, for control, consumed him and turned him into something terrifying. But despite knowing he was the villain in this story, I still wanted him. I needed him to own my body like this, to exert his will over me. He was dangerous like fire, but I wanted to ride that edge and feel him burn my flesh, to make me feel alive.
“Take it,” he said through gritted teeth. He spat onto my back and slapped me hard across the ass, the crack reverberating through the room. “You’re already on your knees, so go on, beg for me, baby.”
I tried to obey, but the only thing that came from my mouth was a desperate whimper. Everything in me screamed for release. His body was relentless, driving into mine without mercy. Pain spiked through my hips as he slapped me twice and I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. My God, if he didn’t stop I was going to break into a thousand pieces.
His cock grew even harder, filling me until I was whimpering silently, teeth gritted and breasts heaving against the strain. The unrelenting thrusts sped up even faster and he released a groan from somewhere deep within.
“You can talk now,” he panted. “Beg me for it, baby. Beg for my cum inside your sweet, little cunt.”
“Please, please, I want your cum in me,” I panted, barely able to get the words out.
He growled, slamming into me hard enough to make the bed crash against the wall. “Fuck, I’m going to cum in your tight pussy. Fill you up, get you pregnant, baby.”
He collapsed, his body almost crushing mine as he emptied himself inside me. Every nerve in my body tingled, shocked by what had just happened, but even more shocked by his words. Did he have some kind of kink or had he made a Freudian slip? Did he actually want to get me pregnant?
I kept still, suddenly embarrassed by what he had said and done. He pulled himself slowly to his feet and went to the bathroom without looking at me. My body tingled and soreness throbbed through my pussy as I lay on the bed, my eyes fixed on the ceiling overhead. I didn’t move even when I heard the bathroom door open and he went into the closet to dress.
Then he stepped up to the side of the bed, his face so bleak it sent a shiver through me. He pressed my legs apart and pushed his fingers into me, gathering his cum and spreading it across my breasts and stomach.
“Wear that, baby,” he said, his tone light and distant. As if he hadn’t just fucked me hard and threatened to get me pregnant. “Put your dress back on, fix your hair, but don’t clean my cum off your body.”
Then he was gone, disappearing through the door. I closed my eyes, my mind a confusing mess. I was torn between wanting to be angry with him or cry because he’d left me without a word of comfort. It was so unlike him. From the very beginning, he’d been gentle and attentive to me. But now that he admitted his feelings, he was more distant that ever. He’d walked out without giving me an orgasm. I always came before him and sometimes during, but he’d never walked out without bothering to pleasure me.
I squeezed my eyes shut and put my hand between my thighs. My clit was hot and pulsing and it took less than a minute for an orgasm to ripple through my body. The immediate frustration faded, but the pain in my chest remained.
He had hurt me with his insinuation that I had put myself on display for Romano and the other men of the outfit. Did he really think that? Or was he just horny and jealous and it was making him say things he didn’t mean? I rubbed my eyes, wiping away the tears, and sat up slowly. Everyone downstairs had to know what we were doing and the prospect of facing them again sent a wave of shame through me.
But it had to be done. I stood and put the red dress back and went to the bathroom to fix my hair and makeup.
Chapter Seventeen
Lucien
Guilt churned in my stomach as I watched Olivia play the part of the gracious hostess for the rest of the night. She chatted, sipped champagne, and made sure to personally bid each guest goodbye as they left. Then she helped the servants clean up the front room before going upstairs to get ready for bed.