Page 107
His hands shift another inch higher. This time, there’s nothing absentminded or accidental about it.
His dark eyes glimmer as they lock with mine. His hands start to push under my skirt, his fingers skimming up my inner thighs as I suck in my breath sharply.
One hand stays high on my leg, my femoral vein pulsing against the pressure of his fingertips. His other one slides higher.
And higher.
My jaw slowly falls open, my blood igniting as Damiano’s big hand slides all the way up, his movement slow but deliberate. Unhurried. Unwavering.
Like he’s toying with me.
His knuckles brush my pussy through my plain black cotton panties as my eyelids flutter half closed.
When his fingers drift to the edge of my panties and drag up the crease of my thigh, my breath catches. But when he starts to slide his fingertip underneath, my hand suddenly flies to his forearm.
“I…”
Heat burns my cheeks as I grip his arm.
“I’m on my period,” I blurt quietly.
The muscles of his forearm ripple under my grip. His fingers slide under the edge of the panties and drag up my pussy lips, making my breath catch audibly.
“So you are.”
My pulse stutters when I feel his fingers pinch the string of my tampon. The muscles of his forearm flex again, and suddenly, I feel a pull.
My grip on his forearm tightens.
“W-what are you—!”
“You can’t tell me you want someone else to take control,” he growls, his eyes dark as they lock with mine, “and then be surprised when I actually listen.”
“But—”
“Now,” Damiano murmurs darkly as he leans so close to me that his warm breath teases over my lips. “It appears my wife has needs. So I’m going to stroke my fingers in and out of your greedy little cunt. And nothing, not even this…”
My breath chokes to a halt and my eyes widen when he tugs the string again.
“Is going to stop me.”
He starts to pull, and a whine hums in my throat at the strange sensation of someone else doing this.
My hand halts his forearm again.
“It’s just…I mean, it’s not—”
“Do you honestly believe I, of all people, am afraid of a little blood?”
Primal need clenches in my core. Heat ripples over my skin as our eyes lock.
“It…it might not be a little—”
“Good.”
The word has barely left his mouth before he starts to tug on the string again.
He doesn’t look down. He keeps looking right at me, like what’s happening beneath my skirt isn’t disgusting or embarrassing or even particularly noteworthy.
