31

MILLIE
“I swear,” his voice carried the rasp of someone who had spent hours commanding others.
With a quiet acquiescence, I lowered my hand, allowing him to remove my nightgown. A subdued breath escaped him as he gazed upon my bared breasts, my impulse to shield myself warring with a newfound vulnerability. His touch brushed the edge of my panties, yet my tensing prompted a retreat. He rolled onto his back, guiding me to straddle him, our bodies pressed together, my knees cradling his sides, our connection intimate and fragile. I attempted to minimize my weight, cautious of his injuries, yet his arm enveloped me, his grasp tight, anchoring me to him. His other hand traced my lower back and buttocks, an initial jump of surprise giving way to gradual relaxation. Throughout, his eyes remained locked onto mine, each moment chipping away a bit more of the darkness that shrouded him.
A question escaped, a concern for his well-being. “Doesn’t your wound need attention?”
He leaned forward, planting a tender kiss on my lips. “Tomorrow,” he murmured, his touch growing tender, a deliberate slowness as if savoring every passing second. Overwhelmed yet strangely comforted, I reveled in his newfound gentleness. If this tenderness could permeate our first intimate encounter, perhaps it wouldn’t be as daunting. Exhaustion tugged at my eyelids, yet I resisted the pull, my focus locked onto Gio. My hand brushed his throat, just below the wound, an inexplicable impulse guiding me. Leaning in, I pressed a delicate kiss against the small mark, inconsequential compared to the more severe one beneath his ribs. His surprise was evident, his hand on my buttocks shifting lower, his touch skirting the edge of something more intimate, a charge electrifying the air.
I inhaled sharply as the sensation reverberated through me, unexpected and potent. Heat pooled between my thighs, a blatant arousal I struggled to conceal. An embarrassed squirm rippled through me, a desire to shield the reaction that his mere brush against my exposed skin had elicited. Despite my limited experience, my imagination had ventured into certain territories, solitary explorations that painted vivid desires. It wasn’t that I was unresponsive; rather, Gio’s proximity ignited a fire within me. A paradox emerged the craving for love intertwined with a more primal want, a conflict my mind recognized as potentially hazardous.
Gio’s scrutiny intensified, his gaze fixed upon me as if deciphering an intricate enigma. His touch, light and curious, brushed against the fabric of my panties, attuned to the evidence of my arousal. My cheeks burned with mortification, my eyes dropping, yet I couldn’t muster the courage to disentangle myself or shield my vulnerability. The press of his fingertips against my core, though motionless, evoked a pleasurable sensation that defied restraint.
“Look at me, Millie,” his voice, rough and charged, commanded my attention.
Meeting his gaze, I felt my cheeks flush further, a maelstrom of shame and yearning churning within me. “Is this embarrassing you?” he inquired, his finger tracing the dampened outline of my panties, prompting an involuntary arch of my back and a sharp exhale.
Words failed me; soft sounds, bordering on moans, escaped instead. Gio’s finger traversed the sensitive terrain, a gentle exploration that sent shivers of pleasure rippling through my form. My restraint weakened, the sounds that emerged grew in intensity. Gio’s touch persisted, a teasing dance that unlocked a wave of desire I had not anticipated. I had often imagined passion and climax as forceful crescendos, overpowering and all-encompassing, yet this was a gradual ascent, a tantalizing tension building toward something greater.
Trembling atop Gio, my grip tightened on his shoulders as I found myself ensnared in a symphony of sensations. His deliberate, unhurried movements seemed to stoke the fires of pleasure within me with each caress. Our gazes locked, his eyes delving into mine as his fingers navigated the landscape of my desire. A pair of digits trailed over the cusp of my entrance, threading between the folds, and finally, he applied a gentle pressure to my most sensitive spot. It was astonishing how such an intangible touch could send such intense waves coursing through me. Gasping, I clung to Gio, my face seeking refuge in the crook of his neck as I surrendered to the torrent of pleasure, a kaleidoscope of sparks consuming my every thought.
The fabric of my panties served as a barrier, yet his deliberate motions across my clit sent shivers radiating throughout my body. The rhythm slowed gradually until his hand came to rest possessively against my core, a testament to the intimate connection we shared. Gio’s breath mingled with my hair, his voice a velvet murmur in the charged air. “Millie, you’re so wet,” he breathed, his words igniting a fiery blush on my cheeks. His next words held a tinge of dark amusement, laden with desire. “If you could feel how much I crave you right now, you might consider fleeing from this intensity.” His chuckle, throaty and rich, carried an undercurrent of longing. “I can almost imagine your essence on my fingertips, aching for more.”
In response, my lips remained sealed, my focus on steadying my ragged breaths. Beneath my cheek, Gio’s heartbeat resounded with strength and urgency, a rhythm that hinted at his own arousal. His subtle shift caused his length to brush against my inner thigh, an electrifying encounter that left me acutely aware of his heated desire.
The courage to voice my curiosity emerged as a whisper, a tremulous inquiry born from equal parts trepidation and anticipation. “Would you like me to touch you?” The idea of exploring him intimately, uncovering the man behind the layers, intrigued me and filled me with a mixture of fear and excitement. In response, Gio’s hand on my back tightened, his inhalation deep and profound, his chest swelling beneath me.
A growl resonated from deep within him, and as I raised my head to discern his expression, a blend of confusion and a faint ache welled up within me. His smile held a shadowed quality, revealing a complex interplay of emotions. “Not yet,” he rumbled, his words tinged with a raw edge that left me puzzled and stung. Sensing my silent questions, he explained, a layer of vulnerability underscoring his tone. “I’m not entirely myself at this moment, Millie. There’s a darkness that hovers, fueled by anger and bloodshed. Today was a day tainted by shadows.” His head shook subtly, as if to dispel the haunting memories. “When I returned home and found you on the couch, so vulnerable and utterly mine…” A flicker of something indiscernible passed through his eyes, an echo of the darkness he’d alluded to. “You can’t fathom the thoughts that consumed me then. As your husband, I vowed to shield you, even from myself if need be.”
The question escaped me in a hushed murmur, my voice a mere thread in the charged atmosphere. “Do you believe you’d lose control?”
“I’m certain of it,” his reply came, weighted with an authenticity that chilled and captivated me simultaneously.
My attempt to ease the tension surfaced as a soft assertion, a touch meant to soothe both him and myself. Fingertips traced the contours of his shoulders, my touch gentle and reassuring. “Perhaps you underestimate your own strength.” The sentiment held a dual purpose, an attempt to bolster his confidence and my own.
His fingertip trailed along my spine, eliciting a cascade of tingling sensations that converged at my core. “Or maybe you place too much faith in me.” His touch lingered, a sensual dance that stirred a fresh surge of longing within me. “When I envision laying you out on this bed, a symbol of surrender, you should have fled.”
An unanticipated gravity permeated the moment as I realized the earnestness of his words. “Someone once told me not to run from monsters, for they would inevitably give chase.”
A fleeting smile graced his lips, laden with the weight of unspoken truths. “Next time, you run. Or if running proves impossible, don’t hesitate to deliver a swift blow to my vulnerability.”
The sincerity in his tone left no room for doubt. “Had I acted thus today, your restraint would have crumbled. The only reason you retained it was because I recognized the husband beneath the veneer of the beast.”
His thumb danced along my lips before grazing my cheek, the simple gesture initiating a fresh surge of sensation. “You possess a beauty and innocence that clashes with the darkness that shadows me. Yet, my selfishness prevails-I won’t release my hold on you. You are mine, now and for all time.”
“I understand,” my voice conceded, and with those words, I nestled my cheek against his chest. In the absence of light, lulled by the cadence of his heartbeat, I succumbed to sleep. Ordinary wisdom might have urged me to flee from Gio’s complexities, but my upbringing amidst predators had rewired my instincts. Those who didn’t dwell in shadows seemed foreign to me. And though he had momentarily frightened me, he had swiftly emerged from that abyss.
As darkness claimed my consciousness, I recognized the allure of being desired by a man like Gio-a man who embodied strength and tenderness, dominance and protection. In his possession, I found an unexpected sense of belonging, an affirmation that he was mine as much as I was his.