When she gives a little half snore, I smirk and ferry another spoonful of food into my mouth and chew with way more smugness than I should.
Pride fills my chest. Not only did I not ravage her in the shower, but I have her compliant and soft in my lap after pampering her with food and sweetness.
Remembering the sight of her scarred back dampens my joy. The clear signs of abuse offer me nothing but questions and no answers.
Prying her with those questions will only make her pull away, so I tighten my arm around her and bask in the trust she shows me.
I finish my meal, pack up the leftovers, and slip my arm under her knees before standing. She makes a small sound of complaint and snuggles harder against my chest. The blindfold knot hits a bruise on my sternum, sending guilt down my spine.
Now that I know I’ll never be able to walk away from her, I shouldn’t give her false hope, but it’s too soon to remove the blindfold. She’ll blame me for ruining her only chance at freedom and hold a grudge for the rest of our lives. I need to gain her trust before dropping the ruse.
The neckline of my shirt slips off her shoulder, revealing the creamy upper swell of her breast, but I lay her down on her side of the bed without daring to fix it. Putting my hands anywhere near her curves will fray the last of my control.
When I perch on the edge of the mattress and bring her wrists together, she furrows her brows and turns her head toward me. By the time I finish tying her wrists together, she’s already asleep again. Deciding not to tie her to the headboard or bind her chafed ankles, I stand and tuck the blankets around her before putting the leftovers in the fridge and splashing cold water on my face in the bathroom sink. After checking my messages and plugging my phone into the charger, I turn off the lights, settle on top of the covers, and weave my fingers together behind my neck.
Her quiet breathing lulls me into a deep, restful sleep. When I wake, she’s plastered against my side with her head on my chest, her tied hands on my stomach and her leg thrown over my hip. I dare not move as she wiggles closer, her breasts pillowing against my ribs and her pussy warm against my hip.
It wouldn’t take much to sink my cock deep into her tight, wet heat. Only my sweats, her shorts, and a tiny corner of the blankets separate us. I fill my lungs and enjoy the way her curves shift against me. My pants struggle to contain my hard-on and my balls pulse with need.
Her nails dig into my skin. She snuggles closer. I tighten my woven fingers together, knowing I’ll ravage her if I move my hands out from behind my head.
Her whimper takes the edge off my lust. My heart gives a prolonged squeeze as her breath hitches.
I say her name. She doesn’t respond, so I say it again, but she doesn’t react.
“Wake up, amore mio,” I murmur.
Her nails dig deeper into my flesh.
“You’re safe, mia caramellina. No one will hurt you here.”
She wakes in a rush, realizes her position, and tries to roll away. I bring my arm down and wrap it around her, preventing her from retreating.
“You had a nightmare,” I say.
“I know.” She shivers. “I’m fine.”
I pull her tighter against me and squeeze her hip.
“I’m not. Stay here for a minute.”
“I thought you weren’t doing any ‘funny business’”—yes, she uses air quotes with her fingers despite her wrists being bound—“until I was back to fighting form?”
I chuckle. Her nipples harden against my side. My mouth waters.
“This is all you, mia caramellina. I tucked you in under the blankets on the other side of the bed. You came to me.”
She scoffs and tries to roll away, but I tug her back against me.
“Stop denying it, amore mio. Your body wants mine no matter how much you hate me.”
“I’m not your love, and there’s this thing called Stockholm syndrome where a captive becomes overly attached to their kidnapper when they’re forced to rely on said kidnapper for basic necessities. That’s all this is. It’ll go away the second you leave my life.”
Red tinges my vision. I roll us over and pin her onto her back with my knees holding hers together, our fronts flush and her arms over her head.
“Sounds like you’re back to fighting form, aren’t you, principessa?” Her entire body cringes at the endearment, but the fury in my soul spurs me on. I lick the shell of her ear before sucking the sensitive lobe into my mouth and grinding my cock against the juncture of her thighs.
She gasps, bucks, and tries to yank her wrists out of my grasp, but I tighten my grip and settle more of my weight onto her. After a few more thrusts of my hips while I nibble at her ear, I lick a trail down the side of her throat before whispering against her collarbone.
“Let’s see how easily you can forget me after you get a taste of me tasting you.”
“No. I don’t want this.”
Despite her hard nipples and trembling, her voice emerges strong and certain. I chuckle and nip at the base of her throat.
“Your body has been begging for this since I pinned you against the wall in the alley, hasn’t it?”
She shakes her head, but I grab her breast and flick my thumb over her nipple through her shirt. Her gasp throbs through my balls.
“There you go, mia caramellina. I told you yesterday we’d start from where we left off. I expect you to be as loud as if you were screaming for help. No one can hear you anyway.”
“Then why did you gag me?” she hisses.
I chuckle and sneak my hand under her shirt, skimming my palm over her smooth skin and cupping the underside of her breast.
“Because your anger turns me on,” I goad.
“You’re sick,” she snarls.
I tug the hem of her shirt up to expose her right breast and whisper against her collarbone.
“What does that make you, since you light up whenever I’m rough? We’re a perfect match.”
She shakes her head and renews her struggles. I groan, lift her breast, enjoying the way her flesh pillows around my fingers, and fill my mouth with the upper swell.
Her angry response only spurs me on. I bite down and suction my lips against her, laving her with my tongue and pinching her nipple as I knead and play with her tit.
Desperate to explore more of her, I release her wrists, expose her other breast, and play with the tempting mound until her nipple turns diamond hard. She pushes against my head and yanks at my hair, but I relish the pain. I skim my hand down her soft, round belly and cup her sex through her shorts.
Her ranting devolves into a string of curses. I dip my fingers into her pussy through the loose fabric of my shorts and rub her clit with my palm. Her breasts jiggle with her struggles. I release my bite and close my mouth over her extended nipple.
She screams, sinks both hands in my hair, and yanks so hard pain arcs through my scalp. Her breast pops free of my mouth. I growl and nip the tip of her nipple before flicking my tongue over the sting.
Her cream soaks my shorts. She writhes. It’s too much.
I wedge my hand under the waistband and groan as I sink my fingers along the hot and slick folds of her pussy. With a quick, simultaneous suckle and pinch of her nipples, I promise her breasts I’ll return before I abandon them. I force my hands off her and grab the fabric of her shorts. She rolls the moment I release her, but I yank the material off her legs and splay my hand over the small of her back, pinning her to the bed.
Her ass is pure perfection. I grab each cheek before giving her a few spanks, enjoying the jiggling of her ample curves and her increasingly furious screams, then I roll her over and back toward the center of the mattress. She kicks at me blindly and lands a lucky hit on my injured arm. I snarl, grab her calves, and pin her knees to her ears, trapping her arms against her stomach and squishing her breasts with her thighs.
She’s gorgeous when she’s sweaty, flushed, and at my mercy.
“Vaffanculo! Get off me, testa di cazzo!”
The sight of her swollen and drenched pussy steals my breath. I’ll die if I don’t get a taste of her.
“Be careful mentioning my cock right now, mia caramellina, or I might use it instead of my tongue.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Or what? What’ll you do if I fuck you so deep and hard you forget your own name? Will you still blame Stockholm syndrome?”
“No, I’ll blame you,” she says through gritted teeth.
I lean down and bite the back of her thigh.
“Good girl. Blame me. Remember me.”
I bite closer to her pussy. She growls and tries to buck, but I lean more of my weight on her legs and reprimand her with a nip. Her squeak of pain sends liquid fire down my shaft. My precum wets my sweatpants.
“Remember the night you came apart in my bed. Remember how much pleasure I wrung from your body. Remember the faceless man who made you come over and over again until you couldn’t think. Remember the stronzo who wrecked you with his mouth before he fucked you so good you forgot how to breathe.”
I tease my nose along the outer fold of her pussy and fill my lungs with her delicious scent.
“Anytime you meet someone new, you’ll wonder if it’s me. You’ll miss me. Crave me.”
I sneak a tiny flick of my tongue along her outer labia. She jumps, wriggles her hands between her legs, and pinches my hair between her fingers.
“No one will compare to me. Other men will never satisfy you. You’ll always wish they were me in the end.”
I steal another teasing lick. She digs her nails into my scalp.
“I’ll be everywhere, even if I walk away. You’ll never be free of me.”
I seal my mouth over her entire sex and groan as her sweet and tart flavor bursts over my taste buds. She yelps and jerks, dislodging me, but I dive right back in and explore every inch of her. I suck on her labia, flick her clit, dip my tongue into her entrance, and lap at her like a starving man at a feast. She’s delicious and perfectly responsive, pulling my hair as her pussy pulses and screaming in pleasure and pain as I nip her clit.
“That’s it, mia caramellina. Let go. Give me everything. Let me hear you scream as you come apart on my tongue.”
She does. Mio Dio, she does. She floods my mouth with her release as she chokes on a sob, but I can’t stop. I swirl, flick, lick, and lave until she explodes again. When I aim my focus on her softening clit, not pausing despite her labored breaths, she whines and wriggles in a wordless plea for mercy.
I have none.
I tighten my grip on the back of her knees, sheathe my teeth with my lips, and tilt my head to poise them on either side of her clit.
She shakes her head. The blindfold shifts, pulling her hair over her sweaty temples, but the fabric remains firmly over her eyes.
I give the tip of her clit the barest brush of my tongue. She jerks and shakes her head harder. As I slowly close my jaw, clamping her overly sensitive bundle of nerves with my sheathed teeth, she slips closer to the edge of her third orgasm.
I need more, so I brace my forearm across the back of both of her knees and sink my middle finger into her pussy.
Her impossibly tight, swollen, wet pussy.
She explodes in long, undulating waves, her entire body seizing as I flick my tongue over her pinched clit, and when I curl my finger inside her, she yelps and bucks, but I add a second finger and set up a ruthless rhythm, attacking her clit and G-spot with manic intent. Her fists tighten in my hair.
She clenches around my digits and floods the sheets. The thought of her strangling my cock shreds my control. Liquid fire sears the inside of my shaft and escapes from my tip, but I push the full surge of my orgasm back by sheer force of will and focus on drawing out her pleasure.
She convulses, sucks down half a breath, and launches into another epic wave, becoming the most gorgeous, erotic thing I’ve ever seen. With one final lick of her clit, I lift my head and gentle my internal stroking but don’t stop until she gives one last shuddering breath and goes limp.
I straighten my fingers and slowly work them in and out of her, addicted to the feel of her pussy fluttering around my digits and entranced by the sight of her lying replete and vulnerable in my hands.
It’s too much but not enough.
I slip my fingers out of her pussy, free my cock, and shuffle forward to brace my thighs under her butt. She squeaks, shakes her head, and pushes her bound hands against my stomach. I snarl like a feral beast and run the underside of my cock through her drenched pussy lips, purposefully nudging her clit with my flange and enjoying her gasps and twitches. I flatten my palm, which still drips with her release, over the top of my shaft and thrust back and forth through her folds. My tip brushes against the rope wrapped around her wrists.
With magma building in my balls, I grab her hands and close her fingers around my cock. My heart lurches at how dainty and feminine her digits look wrapped around my tip.
“If you let go, I’m sinking into this tight, wet pussy,” I snarl.
She bites back a sob and tightens her grip.
I drop my head back and groan. After a few steadying breaths, I resume thrusting through her folds and can’t stop my eyes from roaming over her. She’s pure perfection. I bite my bottom lip, holding back my release for as long as possible, but the wetness coating my chin renews her taste on my tongue. I groan and lean over her.
“You taste amazing, mia caramellina. Want to taste me?”
She shakes her head, but her fingers twitch around my cock.
“Next time, then,” I promise.
Her clit stiffens, the nub rubbing the sensitive underside of my cock.
I lose it. Molten lava bursts from my balls and rushes down my shaft. With a vicious snarl, I wrap my hand around her fists and hold her right where I want her, spurting my release on her stomach, breasts, and even her chin before pulling back and filling her hands with my spunk.
Another wave rushes from the base of my spine without warning. I yank back and come on her pussy, aiming my tip at her clit and the mound above, just to watch the pearly white fluid trail down her puffy folds.
Dark spots dance along my vision. I release my cock and lean into the back of her thighs, needing a moment to recover from the most intense moment of my life.
I wipe the back of my hand over my dripping chin and lick the tasty treat as I study her with heavy-lidded eyes. There’s still plenty of her release coating the bottom half of my face, almost mirroring the pearly fluid dripping down her chin and throat.
Teeth-shaped bruises already form on the back of her thighs. Her squirting drenched the sheets, my legs, and my arm. She’s flushed and covered in my cum. Her ragged breaths and parted lips tempt me to start again, even though the air brushing over my cock is too intense.
Emotions barrel through me, and with my control stripped away, I rip her blindfold off her head, needing to look into her eyes.
Light brown orbs meet my gaze. Her pupils shrink.
Terror widens her eyes and drains her expression into a blank mask.
For a moment, she looks so familiar I’m certain I’ve seen her somewhere, but when I can’t place when or where, I push the thought aside and brush her hair back from her sweaty temples.
Dark storm clouds form in her eyes. She spits in my face and glares at me as though I’m the vilest person alive.
The bubble of euphoria around me pops, and I realize what I’ve done.
In one motion, I shredded every bit of her trust.
My heart lurches in my chest.
Covered in my cum and glowing from multiple orgasms, mia caramellina is further away from trusting me than ever before.
I don’t know how to fix this.
