“Not like that. I want you to verbalize it,” he says, relaxing his grip and tapping my neck. “Or…” Tristano glides his thumb to my bottom lip and then slowly traces the shape of it, making it tingle. “You can mouth the words. Either way, I am done playing this game of yours. I’m not going to acknowledge your gesticulations or read your facial expressions any longer. You’re going to speak to me or make an attempt.”
I mouthokay, my lips forming a perfect circle, and Tristano dips his thumb inside. My tastebuds register the saltiness transferring from his skin to my tongue, as well as the texture of his finger. The pad of it is slightly rough and that fact is more pronounced when he guides it back and forth across the tip of my tongue. Sensation skitters down my arms and spreads, making me shiver.
There’s no way he didn’t feel it, not with my body pressed so close to his.
“These lips and this mouth were not made for silence,” he murmurs.
My nipples tighten and my breaths become thin, each one a losing battle. I can’t do anything except stare at him with both confusion and arousal blooming inside me. Nothing explains this behavior from him except lust, yet I can’t summon the loathing that usually simmers just beneath my skin.
It’s missing, along with rational thought.
Which is why I run my tongue against his thumb.
It’s nothing but a simple flick across the pad of his finger, followed by a circular motion. He inhales sharply and his pupils dilate, creating thin silver rings within his eyes that shine as though polished.
They remind me of handcuffs, and like the metallic restraints, Tristano has captivated me.
Tristano
The intent is to distract her.
The strategy is simple.
The result is disastrous.
Violetta watches me like a bird observes a cat slinking across the yard. She looks ready to take flight, to leave for a place of safety inaccessible to me. But there’s nowhere she can go that I won’t be able to get to her, nowhere she’s not within my reach.
And that’s assuming Violetta manages to somehow escape me.
But right now in this vehicle, in my arms, she’s trapped. If I’m similar to a cat, and her a canary, then it makes sense why I want to devour her whole.
All thought evaporates the moment she swirls her tongue around my thumb. The sensation sends a jolt to my cock and it hardens more than before. Just that tiny action has me wanting to strip her naked and fuck her on these seats, and I wouldn’t give a shit who watched or heard as long as I was the one thrusting into her cunt. The very idea she could be a virgin wouldn’t stop me.
That innocent blood, and the purity of it, would bemine.
My blood heats in response to that line of thinking and I can’t imagine anything sweeter or more satisfying. In the past I only slept with women who were experienced because I never had the inclination or patience to guide someone through sex and everything else that precedes it. I don’t believe women when they say they’re pure, but I don’t bother with them anyway, erring on the side of caution. Even the ones at the annual gala, who wereguaranteedto be untouched, probably aren’t.
Instinct tells me Violetta actually is.
It’s not only how she responds when I touch her, but it’s in the way she gazes up at me when I do. Usually Violetta’s closed off with a blank stare, and the defense mechanism is understandable given who her father is. Yet, whenever I stroke her or brush my fingers over her skin, the mental barricades she surrounds herself with disintegrate.
And I’m able to clearly see everything she tries to keep hidden from me.
Right now she looks at me unabashed, with arousal swimming in her oceanic eyes. It’s a temptation I should be able to dismiss. I’ve denied myself many things over the years when my responsibilities clashed with my personal agenda, and it’s done nothing except give me a measure of self-control that’s enviable.
Even so, I’m unable to walk away from the enticement that is Violetta.
I slide my thumb further into her warm mouth, the pad scraping over her bottom teeth, and her hot breath glides over my hand. She keeps her tongue still for a moment and then closes her lips around my thumb when I press down on it. My cock twitches at the idea of being it there instead, and I’d give almost anything to fuck her mouth right now.
And I almost do when she begins to suck.
Every neuron in my brain fires a slew of various thoughts and they all travel to the place where good intentions and honor go to die. Of its own volition, my hand on her waist clenches, pressing her soft curves harder against my chest. I thrust my finger in and out of her mouth and nearly groan when she sucks on it again.
After placing my lips by her ear, I say, “Ragazza sporca.”1
She hastily jerks her head to the side, dislodging my thumb and triggering my excitement, my need to possess her. I don’t chase women because they never run from me. Violetta might be trying to, but it’s futile.
If I want something, nothing short of death will stop me from getting it.
