Page 56 of Corrupting Lily

When I clear my throat, her eyes snap up as they widen. The rosy red of her blush paints her cheeks as she pulls her lips in and then wets them. We stare at each other while I wait for her.

Many emotions surge within Lily as she assesses her next move and mine. When I raise an eyebrow, she straightens up, her gaze dipping briefly to her wedding band, as if reminding herself of who she is. Wordlessly, she hooks her finger into the ropes of her silk gown and then pulls, the two sides splitting open to reveal a glimpse of red. Her hands grip the edges before she moves them up and parts the fabric to slide down her shoulders and arms, cascading to the ground soundlessly.

Fuck. She is wearing matching red lace underwear. My eyes drift down her magnificent body, over every curve, every scar, until I get to her covered pussy. She clenches her thighs, but the wet spot already there gives her state away.

“You’re already wet for me,il mio fiorellino. I am already stiff for you.” I rise out of the water, and her eyes drift from my face, down my chest, to my painfully erect cock before snapping up to meet my gaze again.

She steps back as I step out of the water, closing the distance between us in a few short strides. Slowly, I slip my arms around her, our gazes locked before my hands grip the lobes of her ass, and I pull her up. Her lace-covered core grazes my length as she wraps her legs around my torso and squeaks, the sound innocent and charming, wholly encompassing Lily. Unlike anything I have heard before.

“Are you nervous?” I ask, dipping my head into her neck as her arms wrap around my shoulders.

She nods and then verbalizes her response.

“Yes. It’s been a while. And I’m not as experienced as you are.”

I growl, pulling back to look at her.

“If you equate experience to sexual partners, in your case, the fewer the better, little flower. One is already on my list. The other is already dead.”

She gasps, and one of her hands flies up to cover her mouth.

“Tommy. You mean Tommy from the shelter. He is dead?” She doesn’t sound sad, just shocked, which makes me happy. There is only room for one man in her life. Me.

“Yes. He overdosed the day after he left the shelter.” There is a flash of relief, probably that I hadn't killed him, and then she drops her hand. I'm reminded that at some point, she will have to accept certain aspects of who I am. Of what I do. The question really was, would shebe able to accept it? Could she live with someone whose morals were nearly non-existent? A killer. A monster. But one whose world now had a new center to it. A new gravity. Her.

“I didn’t kill that one. But I will kill the other one,” I promise, reading behind her emotions as we exit the villa and walk out onto the massive deck. I follow the steps down onto the beach, towards the surprise I had arranged for us.

She nods but then gets distracted; the gasp as we approach our destination makes me smile. Candles embedded in the sand illuminate a pathway leading to a large outdoor bed, with the curtains attached to the frame gently swaying in the sea breeze. Champagne and two glasses await on a nearby table, accompanied by a large black box.

“Dominico, this is amazing,” she gushes as she hooks her arm back around my neck, her breasts pushing against my chest deliciously.

“This is just stuff. The true meaning of amazing is in my arms.” She looks at me with that look I'm infatuated with—that look of awe and wonder.

"The way you look at me. I will never get used to it. No one has ever looked at me the way you do." The words are sappy. Open. But she doesn't view them as a weakness. She cradles them, respects them even, understanding the truth in them and recognizing the rarity of me saying something so intimate, finally accepting the feeling it should evoke. The feeling she had pushed away before, believing it impossible. Sheisspecial. Sheisunique. Sheisthe one—my Queen. There is no doubt about that now.

Her hands delve into my hair, her eyes locked on mine as she takes a moment to let the words settle. Her lips brush against mine slowly, then she applies pressure, molding them to me. This is what it feels like to be owned. This bursting sensation in my chest. The uncontrollable way my arms pull her closer, possessively. The slip of control that Idon't fear because I would never hurt her. I can be everything I am in her arms.

"Fucking perfect," I growl when she pulls back, taking a grounding breath as her eyes dilate, her body undulating against me. While her actions beg me to rush ahead, I will not. We have to take this slowly. For her.

That bombshell is everything. With that thought, I finally understand how far gone I am. For the first time since my mother, I am putting someone else before myself. Maybe even that isn't accurate, as I put myself first then too—my survival. With Lily, I am selfless. This is love.

I gently lower her onto the bed, her reluctance to let me go flashing in her gaze and causing me to smirk.

“Lie down on your stomach.” She hesitates and then nods, turning around and slowly lowering herself, her body tense with anticipation. I did not want her to feel tension. She needed to get out of her head and be here with me. I walk over to the table, flick the lid off the box, and pick up the massage oil along with a large, black dildo.

"Eyes closed,” I order, her instant submission a kink I didn't know I had until now. Her anticipation and reaction to what we were doing was like watching someone have sex for the first time. I fucking loved that. I would erase any previous experiences and memories and replace them only with those of me.

She jumps when my hand touches her back as I unhook her bra, letting the ends fall to her side, but it is not out of fear. She is panting, and when my hands touch her back, applying some oil, she jolts with surprise. I slide my palms along her muscles, spreading the oil that has been applied generously before applying pressure. She sighs as my fingers loosen her muscles, and the tension lines on her face disappear as she relaxes. My hands travel lower, grazing her ass before I applysome oil to her legs. I start at the bottom, massaging her calves before moving up to her thighs. This is as erotic for me as it is for her. Feeling every part of her body like this is torturous. But I like the feeling. The need building.

The spreading wet patch on her panties tells me that I am not alone. As my hands travel higher, I knead the flesh, pulling her legs slightly apart as I do. She moans and then circles her hips, trying to create friction, a release that she cannot have yet. I grip her hips, lifting her pelvic area so that her delicious rear is curved upward. I hook my fingers into her panties, and so fucking slowly that she bites her bottom lip hard, I pull them down her oil slicked body. The glistening trail of moisture along her inner thigh almost takes all my control. Bare ass in the air, her eyes locked with mine, I pick up the dildo. Fear and desire collide, but I know which one will win. Because I know Lily.

"It's too big," she whispers, shuddering when I run the object along her folds, generously coating it with her slick.

"I am bigger. This will help." She moans when the head of the dildo grazes her clit, bucking when I circle the sensitive nub before sliding the dildo back down. Her lips part, the head of the dildo disappearing into her liberally lubricated hole with ease.

“Fucking perfect. You have the most perfect cunt I have ever seen,il mio fiorellino,” she moans deliciously, and I draw that sound out as I slide more of the dildo in.

"It's so good," she whispers shyly, her hands gripping the bedsheets as her eyes close tightly.

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