At the time, I thought it was a weakness. Now I understand it was something else entirely.
“Your strength isn’t in violence,” I tell her, my lips brushing against her ear. “Your strength is in surviving without becoming like them. The world has been cruel to you, yet you haven’t become cruel. You’ve stayed gentle in a hard world. That takes more fucking strength than you know.”
Another tear slides down her cheek, but she doesn’t look away from the mirror this time. I see something shift in her expression—not quite belief, not yet, but perhaps the beginning of doubt in her own self-hatred.
“In a world full of knives, you’ve remained soft,” I continue, surprising myself with the honesty in my words. “That’srare.That’svaluable. Andthat’swhat I see when I look at you, Tesoro.” I try to hide my shock at the endearment that just slipped out.Treasure..
She swallows hard, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “Really?”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” I reply firmly. “Now look at yourself—reallylook—and tell me what you see.”
Her gaze drops to her own reflection, lingering on the curves she usually tries to hide. I watch her watching herself, wondering if she can begin to see what I see.
A woman whose softness calls to the hardness in me, whose gentleness balances my brutality. A woman I can’t wait to call my wife.
I keep my hand firm on her wrists as she stares at herself in the mirror, her eyes still unsure but no longer avoiding her reflection. With my free hand, I trace a path along her collarbone, watching goosebumps rise in the wake of my touch.
I need her to see herself come undone. Need her to watch as I make her body sing for me until there’s no room left for doubt about how fucking perfect she is.
“You’re going to keep looking,” I tell her, my voice low and commanding. “I want you to see what I see when I touch you.”
My fingertips drift lower, skimming over the swell of her breast. The pale skin is impossibly soft, dotted with freckles that beg to be traced with my tongue. I cup the weight of her breast in my palm, feeling the nipple harden against my skin.
“Perfect,” I growl, squeezing gently. “Made to fit my hand.”
Alina’s breath catches, her chest rising and falling more rapidly. In the mirror, I watch her pupils dilate, darkening those pale blue eyes.
“Raffaele,” she whispers, the sound of my name on her lips making my cock twitch against her back.
I bring my thumb and forefinger to her nipple, rolling it between them, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp. “Eyes open,” I remind her when her eyelids start to flutter closed. “Watch what I’m doing to you.”
She obeys, her gaze locking with mine in the mirror as I continue to tease her nipple, pinching it harder now. A small, strangled sound escapes her throat—part pleasure, part surprise—and her hips buck involuntarily against me.
“That’s it,” I praise, moving to her other breast to give it the same attention. “Let me hear you.”
I work her nipple until it stands proud and red against her pale skin, until her breath comes in short, desperate pants and her body trembles against mine.
“Please,” she begs, though I doubt she even knows what she’s begging for.
I slide my hand down over the soft curve of her stomach, feeling her muscles tense beneath my touch. When she tries to suck in her stomach, I pinch her flesh sharply. “Don’t hide from me,” I warn. “I want to feel every inch of you.”
My hand moves lower, over the red curls between her thighs. I cup her sex possessively, feeling the heat radiating from her core.
“Mine,” I growl, pressing my palm firmly against her. “All of this belongs to me.”
Her head falls back against my shoulder, but I won’t allow it. “Eyes on us,” I command. “I want you to see exactly what you do to me, what I do to you.”
She forces her gaze back to the mirror, her cheeks flushed with desire and embarrassment. I spread her thighs wider with my knee, opening her up for my touch, for the mirror’s unforgiving gaze.
“Look how wet you are for me,” I murmur, sliding a finger through her folds. She’s soaking, her arousal coating my finger immediately. “Your body knows who it belongs to, even if your mind is still catching up.”
I find her clit, circling it slowly with my middle finger. Her hips jerk at the contact, a small moan escaping her lips.
“That’s right,” I encourage, increasing the pressure slightly. “Let me hear how good it feels when I touch you here.”
I work her clit in slow circles, watching her face in the mirror as pleasure builds. Her lips part, her breathing shallow andquick, her eyes growing hazy but still fixed on our reflection as I commanded.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” I tell her, my voice rough with desire. “Spread open for me, getting wetter with every touch. Can you feel how hard I am for you?” I press my cock more firmly against her, letting her feel my erection. “This is what you do to me. Just by existing.”
