Page 145 of Forced Vows

With my body? Absolutely.

With my heart? Absolutely not.

But he's not asking for my heart right now. He's wants my body in a very specific way. A way I would never have expected to desire too.

But I do. A lot. "Yes, okay, I want this."

Without hesitation, his finger pushes in past the first knuckle. The sensation is different. There's a stinging where my sensitive skin stretches around that finger. But it feels good too. More than good.

Amazing.

It's like that first time in Portland, but different. This time he knows I have never had sex like this before. Something in his expression says that matters to him. I don't know why. Not sure the why is important.

I want him in every physical way. I want his heart, but if I can never have that, I want to own every bit of his physical pleasure. Every memory he has of a sexual position. Of any kind of ecstasy.

I want that memory to be dominated by our times together.

Yes, I am possessive.

I guess I have more of my father's blood in me than even I realized. Because the thought of killing any woman stupid enough to touch this man doesn't sicken me. It fills me with satisfaction.

He shoves my shirt up over my torso and past my bra, exposing the cotton cups. Yes, I am wearing cotton. I didn't expect to see him tonight, did I?

I smile at him, taunting. "You can't cut it off like you did my underwear. I've got your knife."

His deep, rich laugh washes over me as suddenly another knife appears in his hand.

"I'm a mafia underboss, mi dolce fiore. The day I carry only one knife is the day I'm ready to die."

"There's that morbid streak again." The words come out in a half-breath as I pant with excitement.

He destroys my bra just like he did my underwear and all I am is turned on.

I lose track of time as he touches me everywhere. Playing with my nipples and then sucking on them before nipping at my breasts. Barely touching my clitoris, sliding his fingers over my vulva, but never giving me enough stimulation to draw another climax out of me.

I exist on the precipice of ultimate pleasure, but never go over.

He draws his finger out and wets it with more of my juices running like a river down my crack from my over stimulated lady bits. This time when he puts his finger inside me it's thicker. Bigger.

No, it's two fingers. He scissors them. Shards of pleasure mix with twinges of pain. But the pain only makes the pleasure bigger. I writhe against his hand, craving more.

I want this so much.

How does this feel so good?

What is he doing to me?

His eyes burn into me, his gaze possessive and predatory.

Oh…oh fuck… It's so tight. It's so much.

Now it's three fingers. Oh…I…oh...I cry out, the sound animalistic.

Miceli kisses me, shoving his tongue inside my mouth.

I suck on it, wanting more of him no matter how I get it. All of the pleasure. Those tiny sparks of pain morphing into something so big I don't know how I'm going to hold it inside of me.

It's too much.

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