I dig my heels into his ass, the bulge of his pants coming in direct contact with my drenched pussy.
"Please," I beg, every other thought leaving me excepthim.
He chuckles, his hands coming on top of mine to stop me.
"This was all about you, little tigress. There will be time for more," he says, still nuzzling my neck, and I can't help but feel a little disappointed.
But he's right. This is just the beginning. And for the first time, I feel like maybe it was all a game of fate, leading me to this man that I'd love nothing more than hate.
But it seems I'm bound to do the reverse.
For all ofEnzo's willingness to indulge my every whim, he still keeps himself aloof. Sure, we've been spending time together every day, and our discussions have skirted around topics like history, religion, and philosophy. Yet, I still don't know anything personal about him.
And I yearn for him to let me in.
He's been treating me better than anyone's ever treated me in my life, better than I'd hoped someone ever would. He's constantly there to listen to me and to make my every wish come true.
But what about him? Who does that forhim?
Since restarting our relationship, we haven't talked about fidelity, and I don't want to think that he'd go to another woman, not after touching me so intimately.
Given how much time he's spending with me, I don't even seewhenhe'd find the time to seek someone else.
But he's not letting you touch him…
I shake my head at the intruding thoughts, the possibility too painful to even consider.
Enzo's always touching me and bringing me pleasure, but when I want to do the same for him, he turns me down.
"Just the sight of you coming with my name on your lips is enough to get me off, little tigress," he'd whisper in my ear before kissing me and making me forget about the subject altogether.
What if he doesn't think you can do it?
My eyes widen at the realization… What if he doesn't want me to touch him because I don't know how? Is he seeking pleasure in the arms of someone more experienced? Someone who knows his body?
I swallow hard, the thought physically torturous.
I didn't want to admit it to myself before, my pride being the number one impediment, but I fell for him—harder than I could have ever imagined. He'd started planting the seeds ever since he tended to my wounded knee. He wormed his way into my heart until he was lodged there.
And now?
Now I feel like I might die when he'snotaround, when he'snottouching me and whispering tender words in my ear. Even his term of endearment,little tigress,has grown on me.
I'm falling in love with Enzo Agosti. And it scares me.
"Here," he says, coming around and passing me some popcorn before settling on the couch next to me.
We've been locked in the cinema room for the entire day, watching a movie marathon. He'd introduced me to some cult classics, and we'd enjoyed good debates that had ended far too hastily the moment I'd commented on an actor's good looks. Enzo had been quick to prohibit me from ever saying another man's name again.
"Do that again, little tigress, and I might have to order a hit." I'd laughed it off, thinking he was merely joking. But the serious look on his face told me otherwise, so I'd changed the topic.
His irrational possessiveness might have put me off in thepast, but now I find myself blushing at his proclamations that I'm his. Because surely, that must mean he cares for me.
"Thank you," I reply, letting my head rest on his shoulder, my arm intertwined with his. He half-turns, laying a soft kiss on my forehead.
It's during moments like these that he makes my heart flutter.
"You know," I start, burrowing into him and wrapping my arm around his waist, "for all your grumpiness, you can be quite sweet." Smiling sheepishly, I look up, curious to see his expression.
