Sweetness and salt and something underneath that’s purely Violet. Heaven and sin wrapped in the same breath. My cock strains against my trousers, painful now, demanding attention. I’ve been hard since the courtyard. Since her mouth opened under mine. Since she kissed me back with her whole body before her mind caught up and ruined everything.
The control it took not to fuck her against that wall.
Not to spread her legs and sink inside while she was still clenching around my fingers, still crying out, still calling me a monster.
My other hand drops to my cock through fabric. One stroke.
I nearly come.
Cazzo.
I should walk away. Go to my study. Handle this like a civilized man behind closed doors.
But she’s right there. Five feet away. Still trembling, still wet, still wearing my dress.
My fingers fumble with my belt. Zipper. Then I’m pulling myself out, right here in the corridor, right outside her door, and I don’t give a fuck if the guards see. Don’t care if the cameras record.
Let them watch.
I wrap my hand around my cock. Relief. Finally. A groan escapes my throat and I bite my lip to stay quiet.
The fingers of my other hand, the ones that were inside her, go to my mouth.
I lick them clean while stroking myself.
Her taste floods my senses. It’s going to ruin me. My rhythm increases. Rough. Fast. Nothing like the controlled release I usually allow myself. This is need, raw and consuming, the kind of desperation I thought I’d carved out of myself years ago.
The images hit me without warning.
Her mouth opening under mine in the courtyard, soft and giving like she couldn’t help it. That small sound she made the first time my fingers brushed her, surprise crashing into want, all tangled up. How fucking wet she was already, soaked right through the thin fabric before I even pushed her panties aside. The way she clenched around my fingers when she came, so tight it almost hurt, gripping like she never wanted to let go. So fucking tight.
How tight will she be around my cock?
Her broken sobs against my chest. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.” Clinging to me while she said it. Seeking comfort from the monster who just took her apart.
Mine.
My fist moves faster. I brace my free hand against the wall to stay upright. Close. So close.
I imagine her hand wrapped around me instead. Her mouth. Her cunt.
Fuuuck—
The orgasm tears through me, more intense than anything I’ve felt in years. Maybe ever. I spill into my hand, cock jerking, pulse racing, vision whiting out for three perfect seconds.
When it ends, I’m breathing like I’ve run a marathon.
My hand is covered in my own release. I should feel shame. Losing control in a corridor like a fucking teenager, guards probably watching on security feeds, all because a woman made me come harder than anyone else has in my entire goddamn life.
I don’t feel shame.
I feel dark satisfaction.
Shedid this. Made me so desperate that waiting five more minutes to get to my study was impossible. Made me lose the control I’ve spent thirty-four years perfecting.
I pull a handkerchief from my pocket and clean up, then adjust my clothing until I look controlled again.
But my hand still smells of her.
