I cried out, but Luca didn’t hesitate, he pressed his chest against my back while he held me captive with one arm around my chest, and then he started pounding into me hard and fast. I bit down on my lip. It hurt but it felt also good. Every time he pushed into me, he hit a spot deep in me that sent sparks of pleasure through me. Luca reached down, his hot breath against my neck, and rubbed his fingers over my clit. I cried and gasped and whimpered. I could feel the tension building. The sound of Luca’s pants and growls turned me on even more. His fingers twisted my nipple almost painfully and he bit down on the crook of my neck, and stars erupted before my vision as I exploded. I screamed Luca’s name over and over again as I trembled in the wake of my orgasm but he didn’t slow. He drove into me hard and fast, his fingers on my clit relentless as his breathing grew labored, and then I came again, shattered into thousand tiny pieces of pleasure. My legs crumbled but Luca pinned me against the backrest with his body. With a growl, he gripped my hips and fucked me even harder. I’d be bruised and sore tomorrow, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. When he shuddered against me and bit the other side of my throat, I hung limply over the sofa. Too sated and exhausted to do anything as he came in me.
I thought it was over, but Luca lifted me off the backrest and lowered me to the ground. He shoved my legs as wide apart as they would go. I was oversensitive and couldn’t possibly come again, but Luca’s eyes pinned me with their intensity. He grasped my wrists and pushed my arms up above my head, then he rubbed two fingers along my folds, back and forth, before circling my opening and sliding them in inch by inch. My eyes rolled back in my head as he fingered me in a torturously slow way. My walls clamped around his fingers and I heard sounds coming from the back of my throat I didn’t recognize. He didn’t touch my clit, just fucked me with his fingers with an intense look on his face.
“Is this a fucking lie?” he asked roughly as he curled his fingers in me and made me gasp in pleasure. “Tell me Aria. Tell me you enjoy this as much as I do.” The despair in his voice startled me.
He curled his fingers again and I whimpered. “Yes, Luca. I enjoy this.”
He flicked my clit with his thumb and I arched off the ground, but he pulled his thumb away despite my mew of protest and kept fingering me. “So you lied? Why?”
He was driving me insane with need. I wanted him to touch my clit, wanted him to finger me faster, wanted him to fuck me. “Yes, I lied!” I squirmed in his hold, wanting to free my hands to reach for his cock. He was already growing hard and I wanted to convince him to stop my torture, but he was too strong and too relentless.
“Why?” he growled. He paused his fingers and I wanted to scream in frustration.
“I lied because I hate that I love you, because I hate that you can hurt me without ever laying a finger on me, because I hate myself for loving you even though you won’t ever love me back.” Luca released my wrists, eyes dark and questioning.
I didn’t want to talk. I reached for his erection and gave it a hard squeeze. “Now fuck me.”
He grabbed my legs and pulled me toward him, my feet pressed up against his shoulders, and then he slid into me in one hard stroke and I came around him, my muscles clenching around his cock so tightly that he grunted. He fucked me even harder and I scratched my fingers over the wooden floor as my eyes shut tightly. I was coming apart from pleasure and emotions. My back rubbed against the hard floor, I was sore and my legs were stiff but I came again when Luca hit his release, and then I passed out.
***
My entire body hurt. I groaned when I shifted and realized I was lying in our bed. Luca must have carried me upstairs last night. My eyes fluttered open and found Luca watching me with a strange look on his face.
“What did I do?” he asked in a harsh whisper.
I frowned, then looked down at myself. The blankets were pulled back, revealing the entire length of my body and the proof of last night’s actions. There were finger-shaped bruises on my hips and wrists. My throat and shoulders were tender where Luca had marked me and my inner thighs were red from the friction. I looked like a mess. I sat up and winced from the sharp soreness between my legs. Yet I couldn’t find it in me to regret anything. I didn’t always want it this rough, but once in a while it was a nice change of pace.
“Aria, please tell me. Did I…?”
I searched his eyes, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Self-hatred flashed on his face and then I realized what he thought. “You don’t remember?”
“I remember bits and pieces. I remember holding you down.” His voice caught. He wasn’t touching me. In fact he perched on the edge of the bed as far from me as possible. He looked exhausted and broken. “You didn’t hurt me.”