003: Be my first

1196 Words
✓✓✓ He kissed me again, his hand cupping my breasts... before lifting me. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he walked us to the bed. He lowered me slowly, laying me down like something precious—settling between my legs that were already apart, eager without my permission. His lips moved down to my n*****s, gently nibbling, sucking. A whimper left my lips. “Hngg...” I throated, my hands moving on their own to ruffle his dark hair, tangling into it like I’d been waiting for this forever. His hands made me tense, they explored my body like they knew every inch. His lips kept tracing downward, leaving trails of fire behind. When they reached the hem of my pants, his fingers hooked the edge. In one smooth motion, he pulled them off, tossing them somewhere on the floor. Then he raised his body, and I gasped when I saw his face again—composed, hungry. His eyes scanned every inch of me like I was something to be devoured. I felt his hands part my legs wider, and then a wet warmth kissed my private. A soft but hard pressure grazed me right on the c**t. “Ah—what the f**k is that?” I gasped, the words barely coherent. I looked down— And f**k. It was the sweetest sight. Gavino, Don of the Blodwyn Mafia, was buried between my legs. His hands slid under my thighs and raised them up to his shoulders. Then I felt it—his tongue sliding in, curling and rolling on my most sensitive spot. “F-f**k,” I stammered, my fingers gripping the sheets. Then he started rubbing my c**t in slow circles, his tongue never stopping. The sensation built up so quickly I choked on my saliva. I swallowed hard, my head falling back against the pillow. My waist bucked toward him instinctively, like my body wanted to disappear into his mouth. “God... please...” I begged, not even knowing what I was asking for. I just knew I wanted more. And as if he heard my thoughts, I suddenly felt something hard graze my entrance. He rubbed against me, teasing, sliding in just a bit before pulling back. “Oh my—” I cried out, my voice breaking. Then he pushed in deeper. One swift, hard thrust. A sharp, slicing pain exploded through me, tearing a cry from my lips. My fingers clawed the sheets. “f**k—” he groaned through gritted teeth. “Relax... f**k, you’ll snap it in half.” He stilled, his body trembling slightly above me. I felt like I’d been ripped open—torn in half. We stayed like that for what felt like forever. I needed it. I needed that pause just to catch my breath, to breathe through the sting. Then he leaned down and kissed me again, slow and deep. Somehow, it helped. The pain started to blur, washed away by his lips, his hands, the way his breath tangled with mine. Without realizing it, I opened my legs again. I don’t even know when I did. It just happened. My body wanted him, wanted more of this. He took the chance and started to move—slow, steady thrusts that filled me to the hilt. His mouth dropped to my breasts again, sucking hard. His tongue rolled over my n*****s, licking and sucking at the same time. Every time he moved, I felt shocks run through my body. I wasn’t even sure I was breathing. He gripped my waist, pulling me closer, deeper. The rhythm increased. I moaned, the pain fully gone now—replaced by this delicious stretch of pleasure that curled inside me. I wanted more. My hands reached out, pulling him closer, like I could fuse us together. “f**k, Neza...” he moaned my name. It sent a fresh jolt straight to my core. He moved faster, his pace hitting every sweet spot I never knew existed. Something was building inside me, this pressure that felt like fire and lightning all at once. God, it felt so good I couldn’t keep my eyes open. They rolled back. My legs trembled. “You wanted this, right?” he asked, his voice gruff, strained with pleasure. Then he flipped me to the side without even pulling out, positioning one of my legs under him while the other rested over his shoulder. Every thrust hit deeper, sharper, like he’d found something he was trying to break through. And maybe he did. Because I broke. Our moans grew louder. His pace got wilder. “f**k, f**k, f**k,” he cursed, his voice low and broken as he slammed in one final time—and then I came, the orgasm ripping through me like a violent wave. I wrapped around him tightly, trembling as I lost control of my body. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. I just held onto him. He shuddered above me, his release filling me. Then he dropped his head to my belly, breathing hard. But just when I thought it was over, he kissed me again—and I felt him grow hard inside me. Again. We didn’t speak. We just moved. This time slower, deeper. As if we had all night. Our bodies melted into each other. I forgot everything—where I was, what tomorrow was. All I knew was him. Maybe... maybe after this, he’ll change his mind. Maybe he’ll look me in the eye and say he wants me for himself, not for Salvatore. Maybe this meant something to him too. But when we were finally done, when I hit my limit and he collapsed on top of me with a long, low breath—I waited. He got up minutes later and walked into the bathroom. I stayed lying there, the sheets tangled around my legs, his warmth still on my skin. I watched his back—his broad, tattooed back—as he disappeared behind the bathroom door. Then his voice came. “Behave tomorrow. You must make sure everything goes according to plan. We can’t risk any more blood.” That was it. No emotion. No hesitation. Just orders. I smiled bitterly. Ha... what did I expect? That just because he f****d me, he’d claim me? That suddenly, I mattered? Gavino is a man who lives on logic. Strategy. Control. Women have called him a cold asshole for years, and he’s never denied it. Now I see it for myself. I slid off the bed slowly, my legs weak, sore. I picked up my gown from the floor and dressed myself. The corset felt tighter than before. Maybe it was grief. I picked up my panties from the floor and clutched them in one hand—maybe I was also clutching my dignity with it. Or maybe just the pieces of my shattered heart. I reached the door in a few slow steps. My body ached, but not nearly as much as my chest did. What does he think—that I’m a puppet? That I’ll just marry anyone because he said so? Because Blodwyn wants it?
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