Page 25 of Captive in His Castle
Turning the temperature of the water up, he put a hand on the tiled wall and gripped his erection. With the fantasy of Callie opening that oversized dressing gown to reveal her naked body and then opening her arms and legs to him playing vividly behind his closed eyes, Dante masturbated with an urgency he’d not had since adolescence and brought himself to a release that barely doused the burn.
Callie gripped the pillow tightly with both hands and squeezed her eyes shut with the same firmness she’d done the previous night.
She’d been rigid in this position for at least an hour. The only noise her straining ears had picked up on since that earlier sound had been the creaking plumbing.
Her skin was cold from the draft the unclosed drapes weren’t protecting her from, but she barely felt it, not with the furnace heating her from deep inside. The arousal that awfulconversation had unleashed in her… God help her, it was still pulsing through her, dancing to its own hot, sticky beat.
Why had she thought for a single second that starting a conversation about sex with Dante could be a good thing?
Suddenly, she could bear it no longer and threw the covers off and twisted onto the cold hardwood floor on feet whose blisters she no longer felt.
She wrenched the chair away from the door and then flung herself back onto the bed.
Burrowed deep under the covers, her face burrowed even harder into the pillow; she took a deep breath in an attempt to force her body to loosen and relax. One night of hardly any sleep was bad enough, never mind two. If she was going to have any chance of coping with Dante, she needed to keep her wits about her. She would never get any sleep if she stayed this wound up and didn’t find a way to control her racing thoughts.
But it wasn’t her sister or the baby or Dante’s implication that telling Niccolo about the baby was dangerous careering through her mind. It was Dante. The way his eyes had gone from angry frustration to melting when he’d held her in his arms. The way that had made her feel. The scent of his skin beneath his cologne. The sensuality in his voice and stare throughout that awful, awful, awful meal she’d endured.
‘Frightened you’ll discover that all the feelings you’re supposed to have, as you put it, exist in you after all?’
‘No!’
‘Frightened you won’t be able to control yourself once you’ve had a taste of the forbidden?’
‘Shut up!’
‘Tell me you’re not aroused right now.’
‘I hate you.’
‘See, you can’t deny it, can you?’
With barely any thought, she slipped a hand between her legs and cupped her sex.
‘Tell me you’re not aroused right now.’
Her breaths suddenly ragged, Callie stilled.
‘Tell me you’re not aroused right now.’
Now hardly breathing at all, she slowly moved her hands, slipping one beneath the band of her pyjama shorts and the other beneath her t-shirt to cup a bare breast.
Closing her eyes, she dipped lower until she reached her swollen nub.
“Tell me you’re not aroused right now.”
She moaned at the sensation and squeezed her breast harder, and then she let her body take control, ragged breaths turning into soft groans as the pleasure she was giving herself deepened.
When she reached her climax, it was with barely muted cries and with the image of Dante’s hand squeezing her breast and his fingers sliding between her legs.
Chapter Seven
Callie left her bedroom with a thumping heart. The truth was, it hadn’t beaten normally since she’d felt those first tendrils of awareness for Dante in that short space of time before he’d revealed his true self to her, and now she feared it would never settle back into a normal rhythm. Not now. Not while she stayed in this castle. Not after what she’d done to get herself to sleep.
How could she have done that? How could she have fantasised about him? Did she have no shame?
Callie hadn’t masturbated since she’d been a hormonal adolescent. Any pleasure she’d got from her own flesh had died after her first sexual experience, and to feel those long forgotten urges reawaken, and for that man of all people… Oh, it was just too shaming.
But even as she castigated herself, there was a twinge between her legs to remember how good it had felt, a twinge that deepened into a heavy pulse as she locked onto Dante’s closed bedroom door and imagined him being the one to bring her to climax.
