She drew a deep breath as I pulled off her underwear. She was well-trimmed down there, using some of the toiletries she was granted to make sure she was well-kept. I pressed the dildo against her clit and felt her shake at my touch. I bit my lip as I brought it closer to her opening. I used it in a sweeping motion, preparing her until I entered. I could hear her soft moans of pleasure from feeling it against her sensitive folds. I almost wanted her to place it into herself, but I didn’t just want to be a voyeur. I wanted to be a participant, in any way I could.
I slid it into her slowly and she held her breath. I saw her hands gripping the blanket harder. She was so tight it was hard to get it inside her. I was as soft and gentle as I could be. I inserted it one small bit at a time until it was halfway in. At that point, I pulled it out slowly, watching as she breathed quickly.
“Are you okay?”
She gave a small noise in return and nodded.
It was enough for me to continue. I pressed it back inside, watching as her legs parted, even more, allowing me to see all of her. Her nipples were puckered, showing beneath the thin fabric of her black nightgown. I brought my tongue to her thigh, tasting the saltiness of her sweat. I kissed her lightly as I brought the dildo inside of her harder.
She moaned, her wetness dripping along the sides as I pushed it in and out. I brought my other hand to my shaft beneath my pants and stroked as I pushed the dildo into her. Her moans grew more frantic and her back began to arch. Her hips moved along to the movement, gasping lightly with each time I thrust the dildo. I could feel the heat between my legs, overcome by her sexiness. She was beautiful, her long, perfect legs parting so far that I thought she would break.
She held onto the dildo tightly as she came, her orgasm forcing the breath from between her lips. I kept on, even after she let out a quiet yelp. She couldn’t take it. It was too pleasurable, and I felt my erection growing even harder.
For the first time in my life, I wanted to enter a woman properly. I wanted to make love to her, feel her skin against mine and her breasts pressed against my chest. Still, I’d promised her I wouldn’t. I wasn’t going to surprise her. I wanted her to trust me.
I took out my penis and felt myself finish in my hand, feeling like an explosion. It was as though I was seeing fireworks as I wiped it along the bed and continued on her. I made sure that she was taken care of, and that she was overwhelmed with passion. I had to have her cum again. I needed to see her orgasm multiple times. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be fulfilled. It was something I could have done over and over again.
Her lips were parted as she brought her eyes to me again, her eyelids only half-open as she moaned lightly. God, she was sexy. It was only then that I saw the light bloodstain on the bed, but didn’t pay it too much mind. I’d deal with it later.
11
Chiara
Ifelt the sun against my skin as I rolled over in the sheets. He was next to me, sleeping quietly with his arm beneath his head. I wanted to trace his face while staring at him, wanting to feel the roughness of his six o’clock shadow against my fingers, and feeling the striking jawline beneath. Being an artist, I’d been able to learn how to sculpt, and Marcello had the perfect face and body for it. Strong, sturdy, with muscles that rippled like waves. I couldn’t help but graze my fingers across his skin, enjoying the feeling of his tense build underneath. He took great care of himself, and it showed.
Being with him had not been what I’d expected—not that I’d given it much thought beforehand, either. It had defied any expectation I’d had. He hadn’t entered me. He’d used objects, of which I hadn’t expected from him. There was not much intimacy to it, but it was pleasurable. I had never felt such explosions of pleasure in my life, and I hadn’t thought that my first time with someone would be so strange, or so desirable.
More.
He’d not once caused me pain, despite the fact that I’d lost my virginity. Lucia had always told me that it would hurt. My mother had corroborated that same idea, so I’d always avoided pleasuring myself. Lying next to him, though, I almost felt the need to. There was a warm feeling in my stomach, and I wanted him to do it again. He was so gentle and so vocal. Each step of the way had been light, and he’d not once made me feel as though I was being judged. He wasn’t doing it to satisfy himself and humiliate me. He’d finished himself a few times throughout the evening, taking an active part in the act.
I could still feel his tongue against my thighs, and goosebumps formed all over my body at the thought. It was as though he knew each part to place his lips against that would throw me into ecstasy. My heart skipped a beat when I thought about it again. There was something deeper happening between us, and it was becoming more evident that what we were doing wasn’t purely sexual. I hadn’t figured it out yet, but it was growing.
That was the only thing passing through my mind. I could still feel that warmth between my legs, that burning desire that made me want more. Even when we were finished, I still felt it. At that moment, staring at him in the morning, with his expression softened, I wanted him even more. I couldn’t describe it, but for some reason I trusted him. Those words were foreign to me. I trusted a Cavetti.
A pang of guilt throbbed in my chest at that moment. I didn’t want to think of how my parents would react to what had happened with Marcello. I was only glad that they weren’t there to see it. Of course, when the truce was still intact, I have no doubt that they would be fine with it. Being there as a prisoner, however? Not a chance. They would be embarrassed. They might have even hated me for becoming the kind of daughter that would give in to a Cavetti, regardless of my reasons.
Then I pictured his face. How distressed he had been, and how calm he looked then. It was like two different people, and I’d helped him through it. I recoiled slightly as he opened his eyes and laid his head against his arm. I couldn’t believe the difference I’d been able to make, just by being with him throughout the evening. His gaze was soft as his eyes fluttered open, the warm sun streaming in through the window next to us. I felt a warm breeze over my skin as it entered through the open window.
“Did you sleep well?”
He cleared his throat before rubbing the sleep from his blue eyes. “I slept really well. What about you?”
I could feel my cheeks burning at the thought of what happened throughout the evening, and the emphasis he’d put on the ‘you’part of his question, as though he already knew the answer. “I slept well, thanks.”
“I bet you did.”
I smiled lightly, more to myself than him. I was impressed with his confidence—he knew that he was good at what he did, even if it was a little strange. I always thought that people had sex just normally. I would never have considered that my first time would be spent with someone who had differing tastes.
“Are you feeling better?” I asked.
I held my breath the moment I saw his expression. It was gentle and caring—something I never thought I would see in him. He blinked at me slowly. His expression changed again, shifting back to that mask I’d become accustomed to. I imagined being a Cavetti was the reason he was always trying to act cold and distant. They weren’t known for being an extremely close family. I could only imagine the things that had happened in his life for him to become so emotionally broken.
“I am,” he said and rolled over onto his back so that he was facing the ceiling. “It was a rough day yesterday, and I was able to get out any pent up aggression.”
“But you weren’t aggressive at all.”
He chuckled to himself. It was the first time I’d seen him smile. He had beautiful teeth, and his full lips parted, almost making me want to kiss him. I had to push myself further away towards the end of the bed, which he didn’t react to in any way.
