I could feel the tension building in her, the conflict she refused to acknowledge, the way her body reacted even as her mind pushed back against it. For a brief moment, her gaze dropped toward my mouth, like she hadn’t meant to, like it was something she couldn’t fully control.
That was all I needed. I didn’t rush it. I didn’t soften it either.
My hand held her in place as I leaned in, closing the space between us in a way that left no room for misunderstanding. She turned her head instinctively, trying to avoid it, but I followed, my grip tightening just enough to bring her back.
“Look at me,” I said, low and controlled. “Try to lie to me again when we’re looking at each other.”
She resisted for half a second longer before her gaze snapped back up, meeting mine. Her cheeks were flushed, breaths low and ragged. Her body was still arching to get closer.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” I told her.
“I…” She swallowed. “I don’t…”
“Then why are you looking up at me like that?” I asked. “Like you’re begging me to just take what’s mine already?”
“I-I don’t want it,” she lied. “None of it. Your punishments or your attention.”
I traced a finger down her lips to prove my point. Her mouth opened. I slipped my finger inside, and instincts took over as she sucked it into her mouth. The flush spread across her chest.
“How long are you going to keep lying for?” I asked softly. “When will you accept what your body’s telling you?”
I pulled my finger free and tasted her off it. Her sweet, flowery flavor possessed me to keep going. I’d held back long enough.
“Admit it,” I said quietly. “Youwantme to take more.”
Chiara closed her eyes, as if she couldn’t deal with the truth her own body was giving her. Her shaky hands went up, and landed on my chest. My body went rigid beneath her touch. Not because I didn’t welcome it - because I was worried I’d take more than she wanted to give. I made myself stay still.
“Do you want to kiss me, Chiara?” I asked her softly.
She shook her head weakly, and a smile spread over my lips. I guided one of her arms around my neck. She was looking down now, unable to meet my gaze.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “You don’t want to know if this is something real?”
“N-No,” she managed. But her eyes flew up, staring into mine. “You… you should kiss me.”
It was permission enough to draw closer, one hand resting on her arm, the other wrapping around her waist.
“Aren’t you scared this will change everything?” I asked.
“I-I need to know,” she said softly.
“Then kiss me yourself,” I suggested. “Take the lead and check how it makes you feel.”
Our eyes lingered, lips inches apart. A soft exhale left her mouth, and she was trembling in my arms. She closed her eyes again, then moved closer. I watched the fight leaving her body, lust pushing her forward until our lips met in the softest brush.
“Help me,” she whispered against my mouth.
It dawned on me that this was likely her first kiss. I was sure her Papa had left her locked up, so she was about to experience a man’s touch for the first time. It felt oddly similar to that night in the gardens, when my mouth was on her ankle, and she wanted so much more.
I broke the distance between us and she let out a sigh as I captured her lips with mine. They parted, inviting me. Her tongue darted, tasting me, and another little moan escaped her.
The kiss wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t careless either. It was deliberate, controlled, my mouth pressing to hers with enough force to make the point clear without tipping into chaos. I felt the sharp intake of her breath against my lips, the immediate stillness that followed as shock replaced resistance for a fraction of a second.
Then Chiara pushed.
Her hands came up between us, pressing against my chest, trying to create space that didn’t exist, her body straining against mine as she tried to break it. I didn’t move. I let her feel the difference in strength, the futility of trying to deny our attraction, the way control didn’t shift just because she wanted it to.
Chiara’s lips parted on a sharp, angry breath, and I took that too, deepening the kiss just enough to blur the line between punishment and something more dangerous, something neither of us acknowledged but both felt. There was heat there now, unexpected and unwelcome, threading through the tension, turning it into something sharper and harder to ignore.
