I almost feel bad for Sora, having such a sheltered life. Compared to me and my brothers, who were practically tossed into the world without apology, her life must have been lonely. But then, the Yakuza prize women whom their husbands can shape completely to fit their needs. The less she knows of the outside world, the better bride she will make.
“Fair point,” I say. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m rather enjoying discovering all your firsts. First time you’ve seen a man without his shirt?”
“Unless you count Kenji when we were younger.”
“I don’t. Well? What do you think?” I ask, offering up the distraction as I unbuckle my belt.
“You have more hair than I expected,” she admits, sitting up and extending her hand tentatively toward me before stopping herself. “Not to say you’re hairy. I just didn’t realize you would grow any on your chest.”
Chuckling, I take her hand and guide it toward my chest. “You can touch if you want,” I add, releasing her as soon as her fingers reach my skin so she can explore freely. “The hair is an Italian thing. We’re known for having plenty of it.”
“And you’re so… muscular,” she says, awe filtering into her voice as her fingers trace softly over my pecs and down my abs.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I tease.
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips a second time, and when her eyes flick up to mine, they’re a deeper onyx than before. Definitely a good thing, I would say.
“Good,” she breathes. “These tattoos, do they have meaning?”
“Maybe not like the YakuzaIrezumi,” I say. “But they mean something to me.”
Sora nods, seeming engrossed by the artwork as she traces the lines of my black ink. The featherlight touch makes my cock throb, and I swallow hard as I stand before her in nothing but my boxer briefs, straining with the effort not to push her down onto the bed and claim her with passion.
A sharp breath rushes past her lips, her eyes darting down to the way my cock twitches in my underwear, and she jerks her hand back like she was burned.
“Did I do something wrong?” she murmurs, suddenly anxious again.
“On the contrary,” I rasp, leaning in to wrap one arm around her waist and planting my other hand on the bed beside her. “I like it when you touch me.”
Sealing our lips in a searing kiss, I pull her against me and guide us both back onto the bed. As she lies flat beneath me, I press my knee between hers, spreading her legs. Sora’s breaths quicken, her muscles tensing, and her shoulders lift anxiously as she senses what’s coming.
“Relax,Cattiva,” I urge softly. “I promise, before we’re done tonight, you’ll be begging for more.”
She nods, a bit too urgently to convince me she believes me, and when I press my lips to the base of her throat, I can feel how quickly her pulse is racing. Slowly, I work my way down her body, pressing kisses to her collar bone, her breasts, her nipples. I can feel her melting beneath my touch, her tension ebbing as her anxiety gives way for her arousal. So I continue to lavish her with attention, lightly nipping and kissing my way down to her navel.
When she’s well and fully distracted, her eyes closed and her lips softly parted in a look of pleasure, I rock back to slide my boxer briefs off, then return to her body, barely missing a beat. Her eyelids flutter, her breasts rising and falling with each shuddering breath, and when I make my way back up her body, tasting every inch of her pale, satiny flesh, I know she’s ready for me.
Bracing on one forearm as I align our bodies, I settle between her thighs. Sora shivers as I reach between us with one hand torun my fingers through her folds, and she whimpers as I collect the slick arousal coating them.
“So wet and eager for me, aren’t you?” I breathe against the fluttering pulse at her throat. “Such a good little princess.”
I can tell she wants the praise. Her nipples harden against my chest, her thighs quivering against me. Leaning in, I press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, and her head follows me up off the bed as I pull back.
“This first part might hurt,” I warn, looking deep into her eyes, “but just for a minute.”
She nods, pressing her lips together as if readying to muffle a scream.
“Breathe, Sora,” I encourage, grasping my painfully hard length and stroking the tip between her folds.
God, she’s so wet, it feels like I’m inside her already, and I bite back a groan as I fight every carnal urge to plunge inside her hot depths without restraint.
“Relax,” I murmur—as much for my benefit as hers at this point.
I can feel her trying to obey as my swollen tip finds her entrance. Her cool breath washes over my shoulder as she releases it, slow and steady, to calm herself.
“Good girl,” I rasp, and when she softens to the praise, I press inside her several inches.
Sora gasps, the sound so sweet and disarming, I pause without thinking, reading her body language. Damn, she’s tight—so tight it almost hurts. But as she throbs around me, a surgeof incomparable pleasure rushes up my spine, blinding me momentarily.
