Yes, I never want her to say no to me. But I also never want to hurt her, and when I can’t trust my own evaluation of the situation, I need her insight. I need her to stop me if it’s too much for her. Yellow stops me.
“Don’t you dare stop,” she whimpers.
I push into her, inch by excruciating inch. The impossible tightness—it’s nirvana. She’s screaming into the pillow now, but I don’t stop until I’m fully sheathed, my balls pressed against her ass. I’m all the way inside.
I stay still for a moment, letting her adjust. She is completely, utterly possessed. Then I begin to move. Slowly at first, then faster, harder.
She’s meeting my thrusts. Her fingers are clawing at the sheets, twisting them into knots. She’s close.
That’s it. Fall apart for me. I want to feel you break. I want to be the one who shatters you into a million pieces, because I’m the only one who has the blueprint to put you back together again.
I rub her clit again.
“I can’t… I can’t…”
“You can,” I hiss. “You will. For me. Now.”
Her entire body arches like a bow, a silent scream caught in her throat as the orgasm rips through her. The sight of her completely lost in the pleasure I gave her is what pushes me over the edge.
My own orgasm is a white-hot explosion behind my eyes. I drive into her one last time, burying myself as deep as I can go, and pour myself into her.
I stay inside her until I’m spent. Then, carefully, gently, I pull out. The beast is sated. The man returns. And the man has a very different purpose now.
She’s lying face down, her body limp, the black nightgown ruined around her waist. My sperm is already starting to leak out of her, a filthy, perfect sight.
I did that. I broke her. I own her. She’s a masterpiece of my creation.
My first instinct is to just look. But the obsession has a softer side, a need to cherish what it has so thoroughly claimed. I go into the bathroom. I run the water, soaking a soft, clean washcloth in warm water.
I sit on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping with my weight. She flinches slightly at the touch of my hand on her back.
“I’ve got you. Just let me take care of you.”
I gently wipe away the sweat and the evidence of our shared madness from her ass.
You’re so beautiful when you’re broken. But you need to be whole again, so I can break you all over next time. My sweet, perfect girl. All mine.
I lift her limp body and pull back the covers, sliding her into the bed.
Returning from the kitchen with a glass of water, I have to lift her head to help her drink. She takes a few small sips before her head lolls back onto the pillow.
“Valerio?” she hums.
“I’m right here,” I say, climbing into bed beside her.
Sleep, my love. Rest. Gather your strength. Because tomorrow, you’ll still be mine. And the day after that. And the day after that. Until the stars burn out, you will belong to me.
Chapter Twenty
Charlotte
The smell hits me before I’m even fully awake. Something rich and savory that doesn’t belong in my apartment at seven in the morning.
I crawl out of bed, my body aching in places that remind me exactly who was in this room last night. I find him in the kitchen. He’s wearing nothing but black boxers, his back a map of jagged white scars.
As he turns to move a pan, I see my name carved into his skin just above the waistband. The scabs are dark and angry. It’s gruesome. It’s psychotic.
I’ve never wanted to lick anything more in my life.
