Page 27 of I Would Beg For You

Damn my father. I always knew he’d be a terrible complication in my adult life, but cockblocking me? That’s a low I did not foresee.

My thighs are still trembling with the aftershocks of the roaring orgasm Valentino ripped from me with his lips and tongue. Goodness gracious, is that what it’s supposed to feel like? It always makes me squeamish to imagine someone going down there with their mouth. I mean, it’s wet, and I could never imagine how it could be pleasant to engage with. Guess I’ll never be interested in girls, I giggle to myself.

Even putting on the crotchless teddy made me self-conscious. I don’t like being exposed, and thinking of Valentino having sent me the lingerie already made me wet when I slipped it on. Not really delectable. But he asked it of me, and I so wanted to please him.

So, I bore the discomfort. And thank goodness I did, because this was my reward.

Seeing him watching me gave me such a heady rush. Like power going right to my head to make me dizzy. I didn’t recognize the woman who disrobed fully in his sight, almost making eye contact with him. It always looked like an afterthought when I tried to get his attention before. Like it’s dumb luck I just happen to be wearing skimpy clothing and passing in front of my window.

Today, he was looking at me, and this did something to my courage. He wanted me to be there for him. To put on a show.

And that’s exactly what I did. Who knew I could move in such a lascivious way? Being so wanton across the window from him made me want him something fierce, so when I heard the car starting, I knew my dad was going out. Alone in the house, I could ask Valentino over.

Now look where that’s gotten us. I had two roaring orgasms in such a short time, yet my core still pulsates with need.

Because Valentino—Val—hasn’t filled it with his cock yet.

I gasp and moan softly, stifling the sound in a pillow when the keening refuses to abate. He’ll be the death of me. Who knew a man could do so much to a woman with so little and in such a short time? My one time with a guy hasn’t prepared me for this.

Nothing could have prepared me for this.

For Valentino.

I have no choice but to let my fingers reach down, parting my folds to find my still-sensitive clit begging for release. I wish it can be him, but it won’t happen today. Valentino promised this isn’t over; there’ll be a next time.

Remembering his mouth on me makes the fact that I’m touching and stroking myself feel so sexy and forbidden.

I come again thinking of Valentino doing wicked things to me.

Val. He didn’t correct me when I used the nickname. I smile thinking of this. It’s progress. We’re getting somewhere.

I fall asleep like this, exhausted, and awaken the next morning with pain radiating along my body from my chest to my hips. Damn lingerie. They’re not made to sleep in, for sure. It’s torture getting up, and it’s even worse trying to get out of the ridiculous contraption. A good idea would be to tear it, but it’s a gift from Valentino.

He should be the one to tear it from me.

Ha, good one! As if I’m ever getting into such a torture device again. Even for him.

Okay, maybe for him, I’ll do it. If he asks nicely.

Though I don’t want Valentino to be doing anything nice to me. Dirty, filthy, naughty, wicked, wanton—yes to all of these.

As the water from the shower hits me, I hiss. The hot liquid is making my sore clit burn. The touch of it ignites a throbbing deep inside again, and I curse as I find there’s no other solution but to use my fingers again to stave off this need.

Damn Valentino! What has he done to me?

This thought triggers memories of last night, and now, my breasts are heavy and the nipples almost thrumming with need, too.

I rub my clit even more furiously, my other hand coming up to pinch a nipple in order to stave off the hurt.

Spent, I stay under the spray of water for a good few minutes just letting it wash off the sweat I just conjured all over my body.

I have to force myself into my bedroom, focusing on toweling off and then choosing a pair of tailored pants and a cashmere sweater. My nipples are still sensitive, and I go looking for the most padded bra I own to help with this.

I do my hair and light makeup almost on autopilot, then head downstairs for breakfast.

There are sounds coming from the dining room, and I pause on the landing. Are we expecting visitors today?

With cautious steps, I make my way to the conservatory to the side of the house where the voices are coming from.

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