Page 88 of Twisted (Never After)
“When I ask you a question, amore mio, I expect you to answer it.” Another smack of his hand in the exact same spot, followed again by him caressing the already tender skin.
He’s still holding me down by the nape, but now he moves his touch, skimming it upward until his fingers are tangling through my curly strands and fisting my hair. His other hand teases the lace of my underwear before gripping tightly and pulling.
I feel the rip on the skin of my hips before I hear it, and then the panties are gone and I’m exposed, at his mercy, and I’ve never felt so alive.
His fist tightens in my hair, and he pulls, a harsh stab of pain radiating on my scalp that sends a shock of pleasure straight between my legs.
My body bows as he brings me up, my back coming flush to his front, his chin resting perfectly in the crook of my neck as he forces me to lean my head against his shoulder.
His right hand moves up to the front of my blouse, repeating the tearing motion, buttons popping off my silk shirt and scattering on the rug as he rips the fabric easily, like it was made for his hands.
My chest heaves as I’m left in nothing but my bra, and soon that’s gone too, thrown somewhere on the floor, and then I’m completely naked, my nipples pebbled and begging to be touched.
“Where’s that smart mouth,bad girl?” He cups my right breast in his hand while he pulls roughly on the makeshift ponytail he has clutched in his other fist. “Don’t want to give it to me now?”
His fingers pinch my nipple before he holds my entire breast in his hand, manipulating the flesh until the pleasure turns into torture, the ache between my legs intensifying from his touch until it becomes almost too much to bear.
“Please,” I pant out.
“Sei bellissima quando implori.”
My body vibrates, and his palm dances down the front of my torso until he’s hovering directly over where I need him most, his hand cupping my pussy like it’s his.
“I could do so much to make you scream,” he purrs.
His middle finger slides along the seam of my pussy, my clit throbbing from the ghost of his touch as he drags it all the way down to my entrance, dipping in just a little to tease the outside of my hole.
I moan, my muscles giving out as I practically collapse against him, his front remaining plastered to my back as he plays with me like I’m a marionette dancing on his strings.
“But you like my hands on you,” he states. “Be my good girl and tell me how it feels.”
“I hate it,” I say, biting my lip even harder.
He moves and smacks my pussy, the sharp sting radiating all the way down my legs, my body shaking from how badly I want him inside me. To ease this ache. He removes his touch, bringing his palm up to my face, my wetness glistening on his skin as he rests his fingers against my lips.
“Your wet cunt doesn’t lie, gattina.”
His finger parts my mouth and forces its way in. I whimper, my tongue wrapping around his digit as I lick myself off his skin. “That’s my girl, sucking yourself off me like a desperate little slut,” he rasps. “You can taste the truth, can’t you, baby?”
I nod against him, so turned on I don’t evenwantto fight it anymore. I just want to do whatever he says so that he’ll make me come and I can keep feeling this way forever.
He removes his fingers from my mouth, and I wantonly whimper in protest.
His hold on my hair loosens, hand moving to wrap around the front of my throat now, my pulse pounding so heavily I’m sure he can feel it.
“Say it,” he demands.
“I love it when you touch me.Please,” I beg, my legs trembling.
My body is so on edge that everything feels heightened. The air is cool as it whips against my overheated skin, the rug scratchy as it digs into my knees. My pussy is aching as his hand finally gives me what I need.
His thumb rubs my clit and immediately my vision grows hazy, so lost in the pleasure I wouldn’t be able to see the forest for the trees, and when his fingers slide effortlessly into me from how drenched I am, I let out a loud moan, my head dropping back against shoulder. His other hand tightens around my throat, being careful to avoid my windpipe.
He’s done this before.Jealousy whips through me like a tornado, but just as quickly as it came, it’s gone, my stomach tensing as he rubs against my sensitive nerves.
“So responsive,” he murmurs . “You feel like fucking heaven, and I’ve barely touched you.”
He starts a rhythm, his fingers plunging inside me and curling until they hit a spot that makes me cry out, and right when they do, his thumb presses against my swollen clit, making pleasure swirl through my middle and pool in my core.
