Page 36 of Stalking Ginevra

I choke back a sob, the truth of his words cutting deeper than any insult. I should hate him. I should spit in his face. I should recoil from his cruelty. Instead, I lean into his touch.

He pulls away, leaving me wanting more. Rising, he taps his thigh with a gloved hand. “If you want that orgasm, you’ll hump my leg like a good little kitten.”

FOURTEEN

BENITO

She struggles, her pretty features contorting with shame and fear. My beloved Ginevra, reduced to a sexual object, humping the leg of my armor in a frenzy.

Her auburn hair hangs in wild tangles, catching the faint light like molten bronze. Humiliation darkens her pale complexion, but the orange cat ears perched on her head complete her degradation.

This is what I wanted. The woman who has haunted my dreams, vulnerable and broken.

Ginevra refused to see that I was the man for her, not Samson. But he’s dead, just like her father. All that’s left is me.

And it’s only a matter of time before she realizes she’s mine.

As she rubs against my leg, the fluffy tail sways with each frantic movement, making her look like a scene straight from anime porn. Seeing my once proud little goddess, now reduced to grinding against my shin like a cat in heat fills my cock to the point of pain.

Every jerk of her hips confirms how far she’s fallen, every desperate moan goes straight to my balls. Ginevra could have been worshiped like a queen if she had stayed with me.

Tears gather in her gray eyes, and her lips tremble with stifled sobs. I don’t pity little Ginny— she brought this on herself when she chose Samson Capello over me. She thought he could elevate her to power, offer her a life of riches, but here she is, at my feet right where she belongs.

“Take off the visor,” she says, her voice a shaky whisper.

“Keep humping, slut.” I smirk beneath the helmet. “Take what you need.”

She will never know the identity of her tormentor. I’ll take this secret to the grave. It’s only a matter of time before this degradation gets too much and she comes running to me for help.

Her breasts bounce as she humps my legs. Her sweet cunt is probably leaving a trail of moisture on the fabric. I grip her hair, making her wince.

This is what she deserves. What I’m owed.

All those years I spent loving her from the depths of my heart, following her to law school to keep her safe. Despite this, she threw away my efforts and threw herself at Samson. This is only a fraction of what I suffered. When she comes running to me for protection, she'll discover I’m the only one who ever truly loved her.

As she continues undulating against my shin, her movements grow more frantic. Her breath catches, her muscles tightening, frustration clear in how she presses harder, trying to find relief. I won’t make it easy for her—not after everything she’s done. My hands tighten in her hair, twisting so hard that she gasps.

Leaning in, I drop my voice to a low whisper. “What would Daddy say if he saw you smearing your sloppy cunt on a stranger’s leg?”

She flinches, her features twisting with anguish, yet those hips won’t stop moving.

“Look at you, debasing yourself for a little pleasure.”

Her lips part, her breath hitches. She’s trying to hold it together, but she can’t hide the cracks in her facade.

She’s close, desperate, but I won’t allow that orgasm until she understands how far she’s fallen from grace. Grip tightening, I lean down, my visor brushing her ear.

“You don’t get to come until you beg, kitten.”

Her lips part with another whimper. I could listen to that sound all night.

“Please,” she says, her voice throaty. “Let me come.”

“Tell me how much you want it.”

“I need it so much.”

“Tell me you’re my little kitten.”

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