Page 42 of Massimo

"Good girl," I murmur, ignoring my throbbing cock.

She melts against me, and a soft, adorable little snore sounds.

I'm grinning as sleep pulls me under with her.

Chapter 19

Nova

ItfeelslikeI'veslept for days. I can't remember the last time I've slept that hard.

I've always been a light sleeper. In large part, because of my dreams and the horrors in them—as well as the need to sleep with one eye open.

I yawn and stretch, feeling like a perfectly content, lazy cat.

There's my little hellcat. Show me your claws.

My eyes fly open, and my heart hammers as I scan the room.

I'm alone in the bedroom. Massimo isn't here.

Those were just his words last night. After he bathed and took care of me. After he fed me, ensuring I ate.

Don't be a stupid idiot—

I cut my judgmental inner critic off.

I'm warm and still hovering in that space between sleep and reality. I'd much rather focus on the memories of Massimo, which are making my heart pound and my core throb.

I'm burrowed under the thick comforter, and my hand is at the waistband of my soft cotton pajamas pants.

Do I dare?

I've never touched myself. The very real possibility of being watched by Mauro always killed any spark of sexual urges.

There could be cameras in here, too. There likely are.

Do I care?

My pulse quickens as my hand pushes underneath the waistband. I'm bare underneath because Massimo didn't dress me in underwear.

The thought of the massive man bathing me—he even washed my hair—drying me off, and then dressing me…caringfor me, adds an ache to the throbbing between my legs.

Easing my legs apart, I reach down and gasp at the pool of wetness. I also gasp at the sensation of touching my vagina for the purpose of pleasure for the first time ever.

A knock on my bedroom door makes me snatch my hand out of my pants. My heart thunders as I bolt upright in the bed.

"Princess?"

"Yes?" I squeak.

The door opens, and Massimo comes in. He's wearing black slacks and a white button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to showcase his corded, inked forearms.

My cheeks burn with mortification that he almost caught me.

And that I was about to finger myself for the first time with thoughts of him.

And that the way he's looking at me makes more heat and wetness pool between my legs.

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