Page 66 of Stalking Ginevra

“Don’t do this,” I scream, my voice still hoarse from climaxing.

He ignores my plea, his hands finding my breasts, his fingers pinching my nipples with a cruel twist that sends a shock of painradiating to my aching core. I cry out, the sound escaping before I can stop it, but that only seems to excite him more.

“You love it, little Ginny,” he says, his voice thick with lust.

I shake my head, not wanting to admit that the pain makes my clit throb. I clamp my thighs together, not wanting this stranger fuck me without a condom. Instead of forcing my legs apart, he shoves me down, moves further up my body, resting his hot, heavy cock between my breasts.

Relief floods my system, and I exhale a long breath.

He grips my tits, pushing them together around his shaft, before rocking back and forth. I’m drenched in sweat, and slick with precum sliding against my skin. With each thrust, he twists my nipples, sending a surge of sensation that makes my hips buck.

My body reacts against my will, a low moan slipping past my lips. He’s taking what he wants, and my own treacherous body can’t help but respond.

As he fucks my breasts, I reach down between my legs, finding myself aching and wet. My fingers press against my clit, circling in sync with the rhythm of his movements.

“Touching yourself, little Ginny?” he grunts, his voice thick with arousal.

I shake my head, which only makes him laugh.

“Since you get off on degradation so much, I will become your master.”

I can’t answer, too lost in the sensation, my mind succumbing to this twisted pleasure. His cock slides faster between my breasts, his grunts quickening with every stroke.

The tension coils tighter and tighter in my core, and I know I’m close. My hips buck, seeking more friction. I press harder against my clit, pushing my body back to that delicious edge.

With a roar, he shoves forward, his cock pulsing between my breasts, and then he comes with thick, hot spurts painting my chest and throat.

I screech at the warm mess splattering against my skin, but his movements don’t falter. Through panting breaths, he asks, “You like it when I mark you as mine?”

After his final spurt, he grabs the champagne bottle from earlier and shoves it into my pussy. I’m so wet that it glides in without friction. My muscles spasm at the sudden intrusion, making me forget I’m covered in his cooling cum. He jostles the bottle, aggravating the liquid. It’s like a carbonated rush, hitting my walls and cervix. I clench my teeth, bucking and straining against the unusual sensations.

“That’s my greedy little slut,” he rumbles, sliding it in and out. “Taking this champagne bottle like my good girl.”

“How dare you,” I say through clenched teeth, holding back my third orgasm. It’s bad enough that this bastard stuck a plug up my ass with an attached tail, now he’s making me climax with a bottle?

He moves the infernal glass object in and out of my pussy, stretching it beyond the point of pleasure. I jerk my head from side to side, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me come apart. But one twist of the bottle sends its cold edge grazing against a spot that sends me over the edge.

Another orgasm hits me like a popped cork, making me scream. As I’m panting through the spasms, he yanks out the bottle and pours the champagne over my chest. Cold liquid hits my skin, washing away the cum in a deluge of icy bubbles.

He stares down at me through that impenetrable visor. “You’re my favorite toy, and I will never let you go.”

My body quakes both from the cold and a surge of fury. No one has ever treated me with such disrespect and made me enjoy every minute. I despise my stalker from the depths ofmy soul, but deep down, buried beneath all the bullshit, there’s something darker, something I can’t deny.

I want more.

TWENTY-EIGHT

BENITO

Hours later, I sit in my office, perched high above the casino’s VIP section. Below, the floor is alive with activity—gamblers huddling around poker tables, while others hover over roulette wheels and blackjack games.

The constant murmur of voices and clinking of chips rises like a chorus, layered with the soft hum of slot machines and the distant sound of laughter. Cocktail waitresses glide between the tables, balancing trays of top-shelf liquor, their smiles calculated to loosen wallets.

From up here, I see everything. And everything is mine.

A smirk pulls at my lips as I lean back in my leather chair, savoring the afterglow of my date with Ginevra. The footage from the cameras I installed at the stage plays on my phone, capturing every twitch of her body, every gasp and moan.

I rewind to the moment she came undone, her body arching off the stage. A wave of satisfaction surges straight to my core, my cock stirring at the memory. My first attempt at eating pussy was a success. All that time spent watching porn, studying every move, every technique, paid off.

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