Page 63 of Stalking Ginevra

But when she’s powerful, she’s beyond my control.

She unzips her skirt, revealing black silk panties that stretch over the most perfect ass in the universe. Those cheeks are the eighth wonder of the world, but her pussy is the ninth.

I want that sweet cunt. Up close and without a visor. I want to bury my face into those wet folds and drown in a sea of her arousal.

My jaw clenches, and I grind my teeth. Why must I be so weak for this little betrayer?

“Get naked,” I growl loud enough to make her flinch.

With a tremor, she unhooks her bra, revealing those glorious breasts. They’re B-cups, with pale nipples that stand erect, begging for my touch. I want to pinch them until they darken, twist them until her face contorts and tears leak from her eyes.

She slides off the panties, revealing a trimmed patch of fiery red curls.

Scratch that. I’m back to needing her pussy.

I reach into my pocket and extract some rope, my heart pounding with anticipation. “Come here.”

She approaches the edge of the stage, her steps hesitant. I pull her down, binding her wrists together with a few quick loops and a knot. Then I extract a blindfold and wrap it around her eyes.

“B-Brisket?” she asks with a whimper.

“Silence,” I snap, laying her on the stage with her legs dangling off the sides.

I lift my visor, finally seeing her nudity with my own eyes. The sight of her, exposed and vulnerable, makes me lightheaded as blood rushes to my cock.

Positioning myself between her spread legs, I part her pussy with two fingers. Her labia is reddened and slick. Her clit is so swollen, I could snap it between my teeth. The exquisite tableau makes me groan.

“You’re ready for me,” I growl, mimicking my voice changer. “Wet and wanting.”

She shakes her head, a feeble attempt at denial. My little Ginny is so aroused she can’t even form words.

“You might lie, but your body screams the truth. You love being my slut.”

“Shut up,” she screams. “I hate you!”

I run the flat of my tongue up her slit, silencing her protests. Her body falls limp under my touch.

Chuckling, I swirl my tongue around her swollen clit, marveling at her body’s responsiveness.

Ginevra acts like this is the first time a man has licked her pussy when I’m almost certain this is the method Samson used to lure her away. My little Ginny doesn’t want to be a goddess—she enjoys playing the slut.

Nerves flutter in my stomach, but I swallow back the surge of anxiety. I’ve watched countless videos on how to do this, studied every technique in detail, but theory doesn’t always translate to reality. What if I’m clumsy? What if I fail to make her come?

TWENTY-SEVEN

GINEVRA

I lie on the cold stage, blindfolded, wrists bound, waiting for him to make his move. My heart pounds loud enough to muffle the music, and my breath comes in shallow bursts.

He’s been silent for too long.

Anticipation gnaws at my insides, twisting them into knots. He stopped touching me, and I have no idea why. What if he hated the taste of my pussy? What if he took a closer look at my red pubes and decided I’m not worth pleasuring?

After the first time we were together, Samson said my body was so unpleasant to look at that he couldn’t muster an erection. What if he was right?

Tears sting my eyes, threatening to soak my blindfold. I can’t bear the thought of Brisket walking away, leaving me aching for a release he’s too disgusted to give. Humiliation burns my chest, filling my veins with fire.

His breath, hot and ragged, hovers inches from my skin. He’s so close I can feel the heat radiating from his mouth, which feels almost like a caress. I shiver, waiting for more.

---