Veronica
“This is Civitella in Val di Chiana.”
“It looks abandoned.” It was so dark.
“It’s not. Not completely. There are a few festivals during the summer, then again in September at the harvest, but apart from that, it’s quiet.”
I followed him up through the crumbling stone gate, looking around, reading the signs of the shops-a baker, a butcher, several little cafes. When I stumbled, he caught me and held my hand the rest of the way until we were at the top of the village in an open area, which must have once been part of the house that now lay in ruins. Grass had long covered the ground, and at the very center of the now small field, he stopped and looked up. I followed his gaze and stared in awe at the black sky dotted with diamond stars.
“No light pollution,” he said and sat down.
I sat beside him.
“It’s amazing.”
“My mom used to bring me out here.” He lay back. “On the bad nights.”
I followed, and we both watched the sky.
“Take care when fighting monsters you don’t become one,” he said.
I turned my head, but he wasn’t watching me.
“Nietzsche,” he added.
“You’re not a monster.”
“You don’t know me.”
“You keep telling me that.” He turned on his side to face me.
“You know what I want to do right now, Veronica?”
His gaze slid down to my mouth, then back to my eyes, and his hand came to my belly. Watching me, he slowly began to bunch up my dress, the fine cotton tickling my thighs as it rose higher and higher.
I put my hand over his. “Stop.”
“Why?”
He took both my wrists and dragged them over my head before rolling on top of me.
I held my breath, gasping when I realized what I felt pressing at my stomach.
Stefan’s mouth came to mine in a brief but lustful kiss.
“I want to make it hurt, Veronica.”
His voice was so quiet, and desire burned in his eyes as he brought his mouth back to mine, his lips not soft, but not quite hard. He transferred both of my wrists into his one hand, and his other one slid to my thigh as he opened my legs with his knees, watching my face as he did so, watching my eyes with a darkness that both terrified me and made me want.
“Stop,” I tried again, sounding unconvincing to my own ears.
“Maybe it’s because of how I grew up.”
His grip on my wrists tightened when I began to struggle as the fingers of his other hand roamed my inner thigh, rising higher, just brushing against the edge of my panties.
“Stefan-”
“There’s been a change.”
“What change?”
He shook his head, as if setting that thought aside. “It won’t make a difference if I take you tonight or tomorrow night or the next night. You’re mine. That’s all that matters.”
He swallowed hard and licked his lips, and I could hardly breathe for the look in his now dark eyes.
“Does it scare you that I want it to hurt you? That I want you to feel me take you. Feel me tear you.”
I bit my lip.
“That I want to hear you cry out.”
I gasped when his fingers slid into my panties, tickling the hair there.
“You don’t know how hard I get when I think about your tight little pussy squeezing my cock. Imagining how warm your virgin blood will feel. What I want to know is-”
He kissed my mouth again as he lifted his hips a little, and his fingers closed over my sex.
“If you’re wet for me.”
He grinned, and I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head to the side.
“Mmm.”
He breathed against my ear as his fingers began to stroke me, making me suck in short, quick breaths as he tickled my clit.
“Please.”
“Please, what?”
He slid a finger into my opening, and I stiffened. He rolled his weight off me but kept my wrists pinned over my head. We both looked down at how my dress lay wrinkled on my belly, my thighs parted, his fingers working inside my panties.
I should tell him to stop. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell him to stop. Because I wanted him. I wanted him as much as he wanted me, and I didn’t care about the rest of it.
“Look at me,” he commanded with a whisper.
I did.
He slowly drew his hand out of my panties and began to drag them down.
“Tell me to stop.”
Down, down, down, off my thighs and past my knees and over my ankles.
“Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop. I’ll stop right now.”
He released my wrists. I didn’t move as he sat up, and his gaze slid to my sex. He brushed his fingers through the dark curls then looked back at me.
“Tell me, Veronica. Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want me.”
I couldn’t. God, I couldn’t.
He smiled as if he already knew it. “You can’t.”
I didn’t move, and he grinned.
“Open your legs.”
I shook my head a little. That was all the resistance I could muster. He smiled and then, without breaking eye contact, he pushed one leg to open me up and returned his gaze to my sex. I lay there unable to move or speak as his fingers trailed through my hair again before he lowered his dark head to kiss me there.
My gasp was a muttering of his name. He then licked me, a quick flick of his tongue, then a slow circling around my clit. When he sealed his lips around it, I moaned, and my hands moved to his head, pulling at his hair as he knelt between my spread legs and looked up at me.
“I smell you,” he said
Then, with his fingers on either side of the lips, he pulled me open.
“Your pretty little pussy is dripping for me.”
He closed his mouth over my clit again and began to suck and lick. I gripped his hair and pulled and pushed-off and on and wanting him, wanting his mouth, wanting the feel of him on me, sucking me, his tongue so soft, the stubble at his jaw so rough. It took me only moments to come, the sound I made foreign to me as I squeezed my eyes shut. He sucked hard, making me gush, draining me of everything, swallowing up my pleasure, my denial, my want, all of me, until finally, my arms fell to my sides, and I exhaled loudly, the sound more a deep sigh as Stefan straightened, wiping the back of his hand across his wet lips, smiling down at me, victorious.