And I don’t want to be numb anymore.
Better to feel euphoria while being incinerated in an inferno of desire, to experience true passion, than never know what it’s like.
This is the reason I thread my fingers in his hair and yank him down to me, a clear indication of what I want. His gaze flashes when it meets mine, and at the moment the air around us stills. Then it fills with an intense craving, spreading and blanketing us as soon as I raise up to kiss him. I’m inexperienced, but I’m a fast learner. I replicate everything he’s done to my mouth and let the hunger inside me take over.
He groans between the sweeps of my tongue and a curse rushes past his lips when I nibble his jawline. The day’s growth of stubble adds a coarse texture and my lips swell against the abrasiveness, riveting me. Tristano shifts his hand at the back of my head to take hold of my hair. With a forceful tug he breaks the kiss, and then stares at me as though he’s never seen me in his life.
I hold my breath while he studies me.
His laser focus travels along my face, in sync with the fingers he trails down the side of my body. Over my ribcage, past the swell of my hip, and stopping at the place where his erection pulses against my clit, slowly driving me insane. Tristano rubbing his cock against it has given me more pleasure than when I’ve touched myself. This confuses me but also has me yearning to know what it’d be like if he stroked me there.
He exhales. “You’re trying to ruin my plans in the best possible way,il mio piccolo ribelle.”1
The frustration and conflict are displayed in each of the deep creases on his handsome face. I want to tell him that he's a complication in my life as well, one that’s pushing me to learn things about myself which are unsettling.
Such as the notion Iwanthim to touch me.
Maybe I’ve gone insane or perhaps I’m being influenced by the lust coursing through me, but whatever the reason, I bend my knee to lift my leg and place my foot on the back of his thigh. His body molds into mine even more with the opening of my thighs, settling his cock more snugly against the parts of me that crave him.
He pinches my nipple, whether in reprimand or not, I’m not sure. And I don’t care. A tiny groan flows past my lips and I thrust upward to press my swollen clit against his hardened cock. The sensation is extreme and has a dizzying effect, making me close my eyes in bliss.
Tristano jerks my head further back, causing my neck to arch and my hips to buck again. He circles my nipple with his thumb and I bite my lip to keep from begging with moans or words or anything else that would be in direct violation to my ever-present silence.
The silence he’s fracturing with every second that passes.
“Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” he murmurs in my ear. The seductive tone of his voice is like the first sip of alcohol when it travels down into a person’s belly and a delicious heat begins to travel through them. Intoxicating and drugging. “I know you can talk because you said my name and I want to hear it again. If nothing else, say my name,ribelle.”
Temptation like I’ve never known creeps along my psyche, propelled and shoved to the forefront of my mind by the needs of my body. I swallow, either to wet my dry throat or to prepare to speak; I’m not sure which.
“And if you do, I promise I’ll make it so you’ll be screaming my name every time I thrust into your cunt. Because when I fuck you, I won’t allow the silence you protect yourself with to come between us. If you give yourself to me, it won’t be just the parts that you’re willing to share. I wanteveryfucking part of you. All or nothing. You choose.”
He tweaks my nipple as if he doesn’t already have my undivided attention. “However, if you don’t make a choice soon,ribelle, Iwilldo it for you.”
1 My tiny rebel.
Tristano
I’ve lost my fucking mind over this woman.
That has to be the only explanation for my actions. I’m always in control, using my ironclad discipline and unwavering logic to guide my decision making. They’ve kept me from being impulsive or behaving out of dangerous emotions such as rage, hate, and even passion.
Right now all of that is dust in the wind.
Violetta’s soft body wrapped around mine and her gaze luminous with yearning makes me crazed with the need to give her satisfaction, to remove that longing from her oceanic eyes, which pulls me like a typhoon does to a vessel at sea.
If I’m not careful, she’ll submerge and drown me as well, ultimately sinking all my carefully laid plans to the bottom of an ocean where they’ll decay and be forgotten. It’s for this very reason I’ve given her an ultimatum, one that’ll push Violetta to give up her security. I highly doubt she’ll trade her fear, or whatever it is that keeps her quiet, in exchange for the pleasure I can give.
I want her with a desperation that’s disturbing, almost unnatural.
Violetta’s refusal to speak is more than just a challenge to me. It’s a formula for wrong assumptions to be made, which will bring about chaos. But if she’d talk to me, I could obtain clarity in those words, knowing with all certainty what she’s trying to convey. And think.
Her thoughts are what have piqued my interest, causing my thirst for knowledge to rise to an unhealthy level. Anobsessiveone. She gives a few clues to her internal monologue with facial expressions, but when Violetta shuts down I can’t read her. And if I can’t read her, I don’t know what action to take. I could guess what she’s thinking, but I’d never truly know for sure.
Aside from the fact, Violetta saying my name makes me want to fuck her. As do her softs moans and luscious curves.
I run my gaze over her, noting every detail while absorbing the feel and textures of her with my hands and body. Violetta’s coral lips are slightly parted, swollen from the savagery of my kisses, and her eyes are wide with uncertainty.
Is this fear or indecisiveness?
