But tonight was also about revenge.
Tonight was about proving a fucking point.
Don’t mess with Matthew Price.
I will fuck you up by taking what is most precious to you.
Say goodbye to your daughter, Vittorio Costa.
She was mine now.
Her body would be mine.
Mine.
4
Aria
Devils in suits.
Monsters with power.
Beasts with no mercy.
But my frantic internal efforts to ward him off had done nothing. I was weak. Craving more. I wanted to slap him. Scream for help. Demand for him to remove all these kinky items now adorning my body. But I couldn’t.
And worse, much, much worse, was the fact that my body melted beneath him, quickly eroding my resolve to fight him to the death to preserve the innocence he didn’t deserve to take, and I was—intellectually, anyway—unwilling to yield to him.
Devil in suits.
Monsters with power.
Beasts with no mercy.
If I chanted it enough, maybe my body and soul would believe the words. Maybe I could somehow talk some sense into my throbbing sex.
I would not give him my purity. He didn’t deserve the gift.
“We need to stop.” I barely squeaked the words, but I was proud of myself for somehow fighting the urge to fuck this stranger. Although I was fighting a losing battle and I knew it, I had no plan to give up the fight.
Throughout all of my valiant efforts, he had—with an annoying calm and languorous determination—made his way from peak to peak, using those big hands to squeeze my breasts from the bottom so as to present them to his mouth at their fullest as he continued to massage them rhythmically while his mouth devastated my defenses, making me want to hug him to me rather than smash my fists into his face the way I ought to.
He seemed to know when I’d had to surrender, when I could no longer actively fight against him.
He knew I was weak.
I was vulnerable to his power.
Metal bit my nipples and spread my ass. My virginal pussy was dangerously close to being conquered by the dildo resting inside me, spreading my entrance, and all I could focus on was what would this man do to me next.
I couldn’t ignore the way he felt against me. His tux shirt rubbed against nipples that had been brought to achingly anticipatory peaks by the clamps, not used to such raw treatment but unable to deny the sparks both the clamps and his clothing created between my legs.
He settled himself between my thighs as if he’d been there many times before. The dildo eased out of me, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t be without an invasion for long. His dark eyes staring at me warned that more was to come.
Possession. This man gripped me in all ways. How was I his when I didn’t even know his name?
I could feel the prominent bulge inside his pants against my very exposed self, and I couldn’t keep myself from staring into his eyes as he very deliberately dragged himself back and forth against me.
As I stared helplessly up at him, I felt caught like a butterfly on a pin, unable to look away as he chafed himself against me, almost smiling at my sighs of pleasure.
“I know you’re afraid I’m going to hurt you, princess,” he said softly. “But it’s going to hurt so fucking good.”
“Stop,” I think I whispered, but maybe didn’t. I couldn’t be sure.
As much as I wanted to be reassured by his gentle—yet fucked up—words, my internal moral compass knew I couldn’t allow that. I couldn’t just get fucked by a complete stranger. But my body betrayed me. No matter how much I struggled with the idea of what was to come, my body demanded more, demanded that he do just that… pleasure me, fuck me, take me.
Pleasure me.
Fuck me.
Take me.
Words I never thought I would think, feel, and so desperately want.
There was a man on top of me, claiming what doesn’t belong to him as his.
Sick. Twisted. Perverse.
I should be throwing up. Losing sanity. Sinking into the depths of Hell.
But instead…
Pleasure me.
Fuck me.
Take me.
“You can say no all you want, but your body screams yes. I smell you, princess. I can smell how badly you want to be fucked,” he said, as he untied my hands that he’d restrained with the ribbon. But my freedom was short-lived as he fastened my wrists to the mattress as if they were bolted there by the mere presence of his fingers around them, holding them still. “But you can continue to fight me if you want. If it makes you feel less dirty. But we both know.”
Damn him. Damn him to Hell for being right.
Then, agonizingly slowly, he dragged himself down my length, tongue flicking and licking and wetting me here and there, wherever the whim took him to taste me, right down past my pubic bone and boldly venturing between lips that were undoubtedly fully swollen and quite damp.