Page 45 of Massimo

My core squeezes and my body pulls taut. My back arches, and my head falls back. "Massimo," I cry.

"That's it, princess. Good fucking girl."

Maybe it's him calling me a good fucking girl, or that he's rubbing me harder and faster over his rigid length, but I come for him.

I come for thefirst timein my life.

My eyes roll back in my head, and my core explodes. I don't think I make much noise because my throat has clamped shut as my entire body contracts. Then a husky, guttural moan sounds, and I vaguely process that it's me making that noise.

"Jesus. Fuck." Massimo's hand tightens on my nape, and I open my eyes. "You're the most exquisite thing I've ever seen."

Wave after wave of contractions, with spikes of ecstasy coming with each one, roll through me, and I'm unable to look away from him.

Until all too soon, reality comes crashing back in, and I'm left shaking and limp in his arms. Staring at him in horror.

What did I just do?

I punched him. I…

There are teeth marks and blood on his neck. My hand shakes as I wipe the back of it across my mouth, and it's smeared slightly with blood.

I bit him. Pierced his skin. Sucked at the blood. And humped him like a dog in heat.

Shame and mortification flood me, with fear close behind—dreading the punishment I'm sure is coming.

"Nova?" Massimo's brows pull together as I lay limp in his arms. "Sweetheart?"

A sob catches in my chest.

His face softens, and he shifts me so I'm cradled in his arms, bridal style. He walks to the ensuite.

By the time he sets me on the vanity, I'm shaking so hard that I nearly fall off. He steadies me, reaching for a face cloth from the shelf by the mirror, then wets it and cleans my face.

Which makes me cry harder.

I'm so confused. Not only for my feelings, but because I'm on the edge, waiting for a blow of punishment to come because I failed some test or game.

Maybe allowing him to make me come is his depraved game.

That makes me choke on another sob.

He doesn't stop administering his care. He whispers soft words while he wipes my nose and gently pulls a brush through my tangled hair as I slowly calm down.

By the time he's pulling the brush repeatedly through my tangle-free hair, I'm drained and dreading the punishment that's coming.

"What's with the shirt?" His deep voice rumbles in the quiet of the bathroom.

I stiffen, and his hands still. His voice is harsher when he speaks. "I won't have another man's clothing on you, Nova."

What?

I chance looking at him. He looks angry but seems to be trying to control it. But then his words sink in, and I shake my head.

"It's my…" I swallow to wet my parched throat. "It's the only thing left I have of my mother's."

His stoic mask falls, and I see the guilt and pain.

But I don't trust what I see, and I remind myself that monsters are the best at games and tests and making you learn horrible lessons.

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