Page 43 of Curse

As if she can hear me, she opens her eyes and shoves the covers off, frustrated. She hasn’t yet been able to make herselfcome during phase one, but she always tries. There’s only one thing that will work, and she knows it. Possibly resents it, but it’s what I’m waiting for.

Grabbing some clothes out of the dresser, she leaves the room and heads into the bathroom, our bathroom. I switch camera views so that I can watch as she turns on the water and yanks off her clothes, stepping under the stream before it has time to get warm.

With a gasp, she lets the cold water hit her, soaking her hair and running down her face. My girl likes pain, her nipples hardening almost instantly.

I can tell when the water begins to warm up because she starts to touch herself. Faster and harder, she works her clit, the other hand snaking up to her breast, pinching her nipple, digging in her nails until she hisses out a sharp breath.

I undo my pants and take out my cock, grabbing my bottle of Bergamot & Basil lotion and squirting a generous amount in my palm before smoothing it up and down my hard length.

I’m rock hard watching her like I am every morning, stroking myself, slowly building to match her relentless pace on her clit. She never fucks herself with her fingers in the shower.

Usually, this ends minutes later with both of us coming together. I know her tells, I see her body stiffen as she gets closer, her mouth shaping into a perfect circle, her eyes closed. I’d fucking give anything to know what she’s picturing in her mind as she gets closer and closer to orgasm.

But today is different. Today, instead of staying under the warm shower stream, she moves out of the water and backs into the stainless steel wall. The same place where I had my hand on her throat, forcing her to look at me.

When her skin hits the cold steel, she arches her back with a hiss, just like she did with me, her full breasts engorged, her nipples standing up.

She opens her mouth in a loud moan, and I stroke myself in time to her finger movements. My eyes are glued to her face, her wet writhing body, the way her hips jerk back and forth, grinding against her fingers. Wishing with every fiber of my being that it was my face she was riding instead.

My pace quickens as I see the signs that she’s about to come. My goal, as it is every morning, is to come with her, to stroke my hard cock until I come, imagining that I am coming on her tits, in her tight cunt, on her round ass, shoving my cock into that perfect round O she makes with her wet lips and coming down her throat.

She’s almost there, and so am I, a good thing because the lotion is absorbing into my skin so that I’m rubbing my dick raw. But I don’t care. I’m coming with her today, imagining that I’m about to shoot my load all over her pretty face.

Tight heat grips my stomach and moves into my balls, building at the base of my cock. I watch her tits bounce, watch her thrum her clit mercilessly, her eyes closed, shoulders stiff, mouth open.

Just as I feel myself teetering on the edge, a second away from coming, it happens—

“Matti!”

Clear as day, the volume all the way up, she screams my name as she comes, her body convulsing and shaking against the shower wall as she fucks herself through it.

The shock and pride that shoot through me shove me over the edge.

“FUCK,” I yell out, my orgasm exploding through my body,my cock pulsing in my hand as I come.

Breathing hard, I watch her body soften, sliding limply down the shower wall to the floor as she opens her eyes, panting hard.

A slow smile spreads across her face and she shakes her head, pushing went tendrils of hair off her body.

“Fuck you, Matti,” she says softly.

I grin back at the screen, surprised and happy. “Yeah, fuck me, kitten. Fuck me all day long.”

She’s thinking about me. She wants me.

Fuck this. I’m going home.

24

Matti

My phone buzzes in my hand, Vin’s custom ringtone breaking the oppressive quiet in the room as I finish checking out on the hotel’s app.

Vin’s been kept just as busy, but never with me. Aurelio has us running around, putting out fires that feel like distractions rather than real problems. None of this has anything to do with what matters: resolving the Mikey situation once and for all.

Every day that we delay placing blame for Mikey’s death screams weakness in our world, and Aurelio knows it. He’s losing his edge—older, slower, but still vicious.

Unfortunately, perception is everything, and right now, the family looks soft.

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