I obey.
He slips the tie over my eyes like a blindfold, blocking out the light.
My heartbeat races.
"Mario?"
"Do you trust me?" he murmurs in my ear.
"Yes," I say without hesitation.
The word slips out so easily, it’s barely a thought anymore.
No hesitation.
No flinch.
No little voice in the back of my head telling me I am being foolish or reckless or naive.
After four months together, I have no doubts about him.
About us.
Mario goes still behind me for a moment, and I know he feels it too. It’s not the first time I’ve entrusted myself to him, but he never takes it for granted.
His mouth brushes the side of my neck, softer than I expect after all that wickedness.
“I love you, Victoria,” he says quietly.
My throat tightens.
A few months ago, I met up with a stranger because I did not know if I could trust him.
Now, I stand naked and blind in front of him with my hands behind my back, aching and exposed and certain.
“Ti amo anch’io,” I say slowly and clumsily. I know my accent isn't good and could use a lot of work, but he’s worth it.
His hand settles on my stomach, broad and warm over the slight curve there.
I put my hand over it, and we stand still for a moment, savoring.
Then his voice is back in my ear, wicked as ever.
“Did I say you could move your hands?”
My nipples tighten, and heat rushes through me as I quickly move my hand back behind my back.
His mouth closes over the side of my neck, teeth scraping lightly.
His hands come up to my breasts and knead them, then tug at my nipples. I gasp, and the ache between my legs intensifies.
"Such beautiful tits," he says, continuing to toy with my nipples.
My breath catches.
"Your cunt is soaking, and your nipples are hard," he whispers, tugging at the pebbled peaks.
I bite back a moan.
