Page 9 of Charming Villain

I reach around to rub her clit, my fingers working in time with my thrusts, and it doesn’t take long before she’s shattering around me, her pussy pulsing and squeezing my cock. I let go with a roar, burying myself to the hilt as I spill into her, hot and thick.

A million thoughts go through my head in an instant, each one hazier than the last, but I can’t do anything except pour into her until I’m completely empty, grinding against her ass until every last delicious twitch of my orgasm subsides. When I finally pull out of her, my cock is slick with our mingled juices.

Allegra’s pussy is swollen, dripping my cum down her perfect, quivering thighs for a moment before she climbs onto the bed and rolls onto her back with a satisfied sigh. Her chest heaves with each ragged breath, and her skin glows with a sheen of sweat like she’s been electrocuted. I collapse next to her on the mattress, every muscle in my body trembling from exertion, my heart slamming against my ribs like a wild animal trying to escape its cage.

“That was my first time,” she says after a long moment of silence. Her fingers absently trace patterns on the sweat-dampened sheets.

I go still, her words slamming into me like a fist to the ribs. My breath catches, and for the first time since we walked into this room, I feel completely sober.

That was her first time.

My gut twists, nausea creeping up the back of my throat. I fucked her like I would fuck anyone else—rough, selfish, a desperate attempt to chase away my own demons. There was no tenderness, no careful pacing, no moment where I considered that she might need somethingdifferent.Better.

I push up onto my elbow, running a hand through my damp hair. “Shit,” I mutter, voice rough. “Allegra, I didn’t— I didn’t know.” My tongue feels thick in my mouth, stumbling over the words. “I should’ve—fuck—I should’ve been more?—”

She turns onto her side to face me, and the low light of the cheap hotel lamp casts a soft shadow over her bare skin. Her fingers still against the sheets, and something flickers in her expression—something almost amused. “More what?” she murmurs.

I swallow hard, frustration at myself mounting. “Gentle,” I finally say. “Slower. I should’ve—Christ, I should’ve asked?—”

She reaches out, her fingers brushing over my forearm, stopping my rambling dead in its tracks. “Luca,” she says softly, a little laugh woven into the syllables. “I liked it like that.”

I stare at her, disbelief warring with guilt. “That was your first time,” I repeat, as if she doesn’t already know that.

A blush creeps up her neck, staining her skin a delicate pink. “I know. I was there.”

I exhale sharply, shaking my head, still not sure what to make of this. My instincts scream that I did something wrong. She should be upset. Regretful. Anything but whateverthisis.

But she shifts closer, propping herself up on one elbow. Her eyes meet mine with a certainty that makes my chest tight. “I knew what I was looking for when I came out tonight,” she says. “And I knew what was going to happen when I came in here with you. I’m not some naive girl who doesn’t understand her own choices.”

My stomach clenches. “I could’ve hurt you.”

“But you didn’t.” Her fingers brush against my jaw, her touch featherlight. “And I don’t regret it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I study her carefully, searching every subtle shift of her expression to find any trace of hesitation, any sign that she’s just saying what she thinks I want to hear. But there’s nothing except quiet certainty in her eyes.

Then, just as my heart starts to settle, just as I begin to believe that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t a disaster, she drops the real bombshell.

“In fact...” Allegra’s voice lowers, playful and warm. Her fingers skim over my chest, trailing lazy, wandering patterns that leave goosebumps in their wake. She bites her lip in a small, secret smile that is both innocent and wicked at the same time. “I want to do it again.”

A bolt of heat lances through my body, erasing the last traces of my guilt in an instant.

I groan, scrubbing a hand over my face, half in disbelief, half in something much more primal. “Jesus, Allegra,” I mutter, my voice already thickening with need.

She only laughs, shifting closer, her bare leg brushing against mine. “What?” she teases. “Are you too tired?”

That lights something in me—something dangerous and hungry that coils low in my gut. My fingers flex against the sheets, gripping then releasing the soft cotton as heat builds beneath my skin. I turn to her fully, every muscle in my body already tensing with anticipation, already answering for me before my mind can catch up. “Tired?” I echo, my voice a low growl that barely sounds like my own. “Not even close. Not when it comes to you.”

Chapter6

Gianna

Idrift slowly back to consciousness, awareness returning in small increments—a strand of hair tickling my cheek, the faint hum of a struggling air conditioner, the rustle of cheap sheets as I shift my legs. My entire body feels pleasantly warm and heavy, muscles satisfyingly sore as though I’ve just finished a grueling workout. Except I know exactly where this ache comes from.

I blink my eyes open. The room is dim, lit only by the weak glow of a streetlamp filtering through a gap in the worn-out curtains. The walls, painted some nondescript shade of beige, look drab and featureless in this light, but that’s hardly a surprise. It’s a budget hotel, not a luxury suite.

I drag one arm up, pushing a tangled wave of hair off my face. A strand sticks to my cheek, and I peel it away, feeling the ghost of a flush still lingering. For a moment, I simply lie there, letting the slow aftershocks of the night pass through me in little shivers of memory: the press of Luca’s hands on my waist, the rough timbre of his voice when he told me to beg for it, the ragged exhalations of my own breath as I gave myself over to him, again and again, until I was spent.

It’s exhilarating and terrifying to realize what I’ve done. I’ve shared an unbelievably intense night with a total stranger. A wave of emotion flutters in my chest, equal parts pride and lingering panic. But under it all lies a quiet certainty: This choice was mine.

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