Page 49 of Merciless Queen
That was taken from me by Vincenzo. He took all of my firsts, but he didn’t steal my first kiss. Everything else he took claim, marking me, ruining me. This got to be my choice. I refused to let Vincenzo live in my head rent free. I was free, even if it was temporary. Even if he was ready to capture me again and torment me for escaping, even though I was technically kidnapped. If he got me, I knew I was going to be in for a punishment that made me crave a quick death.
I shook it from my head. This was my time, and I refused to let Vincenzo ruin me with my own thoughts—not right now. I stripped out of my clothes, looking at my scarred body in the bathroom mirror. My skin painted a picture of pain and survival, and maybe one day, I could look at them without seeing the memories that followed. My natural curves were coming back to me and my color. The pale, ghastly color of my skin was now a light flush. I was still pale, but if I could tan or spend some time outside on a summer day, I could get my mom’s complexion back.
What if I tried?
I didn’t want to prove to anyone else that I was healed or ready, but because I wanted to. My body was mine. I wanted itto fully be mine again. An orgasm should’ve been easy, right? My hand slid up my hips, leaving featherlight strokes on my skin as I dragged my hand to my breasts. I gently fondled them before pinching my nipples. A new sensation rippled through me as a soft moan fell from my lips. Pleasure. One hand trailed softly down my belly, stopping between my legs. A shaky breath escaped my lips, and I closed my eyes, diving deeper until my middle finger brushed through my pussy lips. I was wet, which was new.
I took a deep breath as I circled my clit with soft strokes. My mind wandered off as pleasure slowly—very snail paced—built in my core. My breathing became more rapid, but I was unsure if it was from pleasure or from the flashback prying its way through my subconscious. There should’ve been something more?
His voice flickered in my mind.Your pleasure is mine. You can’t even do this by yourself.What if I was broken? What if this was something I couldn’t do? I didn’t want someone else having control over my body ever again.
There was a vibration coming from the door and a hushed curse as my eyes snapped open to the door that I forgot to lock. Caterina was fumbling with her phone before she made eye contact with my bare pussy first and then my eyes. She had a cute flush on her tanned skin, and her nipples were straining against the thin material of her top. I should have closed my legs or covered up, but I was also frozen. There was also a new desire inside me.
I shouldn’t have liked this, but I slipped my hand between my legs, rubbing my clit. The sensation was new, but I didn’t think it was enough.
CHAPTER 39
Caterina
“Fucking idiot,”I cursed myself as I stomped to my office. That was a mistake. A colossal mistake. But goddamn, did she look beautiful.
I never watched someone like that, but I needed to ask her something about our wedding, and now I didn’t know what the hell I was going to say as I watched, entranced with the way her fingers moved. She was taking her control back, and it was sexy as hell. He fucking ruined it because that’s what men did. Only I was surprised when she didn’t shrink into herself and hide under her blanket. She touched herself while watching me. I was already frustrated, and now that image was burned into my memory.
Harlow was a goddess and deserved to be worshiped as such, but I was a devil—a toxic soul that would taint her purity. Goddesses and devils clashed; they didn’t lust after one another. Devils didn’t fall in love with goddesses. No matter how beautiful they were.
I shook the thought of her from my mind. Even if our situation was different, love was not in the books for me, and Harlow had a whole world to rediscover. She thought shewanted to die, when in reality she just wanted everything to be silent around her. Now that she’d recovered from her suicide attempt, she had more bounce to her, and I wanted to keep it that way.
Elizabeth’s mental health also improved, too. She was trying her best to keep Harlow happy. Luca informed me that he was concerned about her after seeing Harlow in that state. She cried in his arms for hours. I needed to get Harlow into training sessions with me and Spencer. I needed to get her mind to focus on something else.
It was my fault it happened.
I didn’t fully understand the results of sexual assault or rape since the only person who ever touched me, I shot them in the head. I was little, so it was in the back of my mind now. When I was younger, it affected me more than I cared to admit, but growing up and dealing with everything now made it a fragment in the recesses of my mind. But what they both experienced was fresher, and they knew every detail. They had to live through it. Simmering with your demons in a personal hell was not the way to heal.
Harlow would spend her time reading either in the bedroom or in the cabin. For the last couple of days, she was at the cabin snuggling with my dogs. After our wedding, I was going to see if it was only Harlow they liked or if it was women in general. If they could be in my house, I’d let them stay in my bedroom with us, if she agreed to stay in my bed. Here, no one would dare walk in without being asked.
I needed to focus my mind on something, so I went to take a cold shower, paralyzing any lustful thoughts in my mind about Harlow and how gorgeous she looked playing with herself. It took every ounce of willpower I had to not slip my hand between my thighs and fuck myself to the implanted image of Harlow. This may have been harder than I imagined.
I slipped into a t-shirt and lace boy shorts. Sometimes, I felt like I needed to wear more when sleeping, but if someone broke into my home and I had to make the final kill—my men would also die. I could handle my own, but I would like to sleep knowing my men would be able to handle their own without needing my assistance.
I towel-dried my hair as I walked back into my bedroom, hearing a soft knock on my bedroom door. Harlow stepped in with a shy smile and a rosy blush on her face—post-orgasm flush, I assumed. She did look a lot better than she did a few days ago, and there was life coming back to her compared to the first day I took her.
“There’s no pretending you didn’t see me,” she quipped, almost in a whisper, like she was embarrassed.
“I didn’t expect to invade a private moment, so I apologize.”
She looked at me, her big doe eyes filled with something questioning, and maybe…lustful? Or maybe I was just riled up. “Can I ask you something?” I nodded. “We’re getting married tomorrow, and I know you said you couldn’t love me, but—” She stopped. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”
I arched my brow. “Tell me.”
“I-Isn’t sex supposed to feel good? Not like the sex with the men who hurt me.”
When she said that, it made me angry. Not at her. Never at her, but for thinking sex was supposed to be like that. “That wasn’t sex,” I said with a little fire in my voice, but I tried to keep it together so I didn’t scare her. “Those men raped you. I don’t want you thinking sex is like that. Sex is supposed to be enjoyable. And yes, it can be rough, but that’s discussed between partners. It is supposed to be pleasurable for both parties.”
“Can you make me feel good? I couldn’t make myself…but then you watched me and I… I got closer. I think I’m broken.”
“You aren’t broken, Harlow. You’re traumatized.”
She took a shaky breath. “Can you try? I trust you. I want…I want to have pleasure that’s not forced and an orgasm that doesn’t come from pain.”
