Salvatore(45)

When I lifted my hand from her back, she remained as she was, bent over the table, her dress hiked up to her waist, her ass bare. I adjusted the crotch of my pants before sliding the belt through the loops and buckling it. Red welts crisscrossed her ass and thighs, and when I placed the flat of a palm over her hip, heat throbbed against my hand.

I squeezed.

She mewled.

I picked up her panties and pocketed them before lifting her to stand. The skirt of her dress dropped to her ankles, covering her. I turned her to face me and held her tight to me as she wept into my chest, fists pounding against me. Hiccups interrupted her sobs, and I lifted her into my arms and, ignoring the stares of the waitstaff as I carried her up to our room from the server’s stairs, I locked the bedroom door behind us. I sat on the bed, cradling her in my lap, refusing to let her go even as she fought me.

“I warned you.”

She pounded her fists into my chest, trying to free herself, tears streaking her face black with mascara.

“You liked it!” she screamed as the evidence of my arousal stabbed her hip.

“I didn’t like hurting you.”

“You’re hard, you prick! You liked it just fine!”

“I can’t deny the fact I’m aroused.” One corner of my mouth quirked upward. “But you deserved that one.”

“I hate you!” She clawed her fingernails down the side of my face.

I flipped her onto the bed, gripped her wrists and spread them wide, straddling her hips. “I fucking warned you. You have only yourself to blame!”

“They all heard!”

“That was the point. Humiliation. You’re lucky he didn’t demand the doors stay open!” During her struggle, her dress had shifted, exposing one breast.

“Let me go! Don’t look at me!”

She renewed her struggle, pissing me off when she tried to line her knee up with my crotch. I transferred her wrists into one hand and held them over her head.

“I can look at you whenever I want.” Gripping the V neck of the dress, I tore it down, the fabric giving way, the sound of it ripping somehow satisfying.

The harder Lucia fought against me, the harder my cock grew.

“I hate you!” she cried again.

I crushed my lips over hers, and for a moment, she stilled, maybe surprised.

I broke the kiss. “No, you don’t.” I kissed her again. I undid my pants, slid between her legs, and pinched her nipple with my free hand. “You make me crazy.” My words came out angry. I pushed one of her legs open wider and then pulled back to look at her. She watched me, her hands clenched into fists. I lined my cock up at the entrance of her sex. “You drive me fucking insane.”

I thrust in hard.

She grunted, her eyes locked on mine in defiance.

“Fuck you.”

I thrust again, then again. “Fuck me.” I wouldn’t last long, but her wet cunt told me she wanted this too. “Your cunt is greedy.”

“Harder,” she gasped, hoarse from screaming.

“Fuck.” I did what she said, fucking her harder, watching her, not feeling like I had had nearly enough of her.

Easing my hand off her wrists, I brought both hands to her face. We were both panting. I pushed the hair that stuck to her forehead away and held her, lost in those eyes that now burned a fiery amber. Her mouth opened, and I kissed it, so close now.

“What are you doing to me?”

“What?” she asked, puzzled.

I must have said it aloud. Lucia’s hands gripped my shoulders, her face getting that expression it did just before she came. I loved seeing her like this, watching her in those moments just before her release, her face as she let go. It was the single most arousing thing, that.

“I hate you,” she whispered, her nails digging into my shoulders, my neck. She squeezed her eyes shut, coming. “I do.”

“Lucia.”

Her pussy throbbed around me, and as she came, so did I, stilling deep inside her, filling her, feeling like—for the first time since that goddamned contract—I’d claimed her. Like she was mine. She was well and truly mine.





12





Lucia




I looked at the window. Sunlight filtered through the crack between the curtains. I blinked, confused for a moment, but the soreness between my legs and on my ass quickly reminded me of where I was.

The clock beside the bed read 7:04 a.m.

I dragged the silk sheet up over my naked body, sat up, flinched, and lay back down. Beside me, the empty pillow lay sideways. I touched it, leaned over and buried my nose in it, then reared back and shook my head.

What the hell was I doing?

He’d whipped me, humiliated me, then fucked me.

I’d come.

I’d begged him to fuck me harder.