I used as much control as I could manage, pressing inside an inch at a time. The heat and the tightness ignited the very darkness that had kept me on edge, fueling the embers. I took a deep breath, holding it until my lungs were aching then thrust the entire length inside.
"Oh. God!" She slapped her hand on the bedding, wiggling underneath me. "Jesus." Her entire body shook as she arched her back, moaning and hissing.
I brushed the backs of my fingers along her cheek, taking several deep breaths. "Relax."
"You relax! This fucking hurts!"
I pulled out, pushing in again, allowing her to get used to her constricting muscles. Then I began to ride her, sliding in and out in an even manner. Her whimpers of agony quickly turned to moans of pleasure, her fingers relaxing and her mouth pursing. I kept one hand on her hip, the other exploring her body, using my fingers to further fuel the passion that we so obviously shared.
"Oh. Oh. Oh." With every subtle sound, her body began to move with mine.
I increased the pressure, thrusting harder. Faster. My muscles began to tighten, twitch as I rode her. I rose onto my knees, leaning further over and plunging brutally, my balls slapping against her thighs.
Francesca met every hard thrust, pushing up her hips, her cries of extreme pleasure turning my breaths into growls. We were nothing but animals mating, sharing the sublime joy of coupling together. I knew my eyes were dilated, the blood pumping fiercely through my veins. I could only hold on for another few seconds before I was shattered by my desire, erupting so violently that the iron posts of the bed slammed against the wall.
As my balls drained, filling her with my seed, I was forced to face certain facts.
One: I cared about this woman, this beautiful girl who I'd kidnapped against her will.
Two: There was no way to keep both of us alive. Francesca
A broken man.
I'd seen it before in various men. The way they acted, almost bully-like in their need for domination when they had a soft little underbelly. The way they faded off into bouts of anger, even depression. The way they rejected being cared for. All the aloofness. The danger.
The bitterness.
I knew the symptoms well, had spent my life around brooding men who never learned to control their most basic desires or their tempers. Some would call them primal, even barbaric. Underneath Michael's suave suits and polished shoes was a basic savage who'd fought his entire life not to be dragged into the muck.
Now he had no choice.
I'd also seen the acts of desperation, the honor of a family and legacy that had to be protected. That's exactly what he was doing. I might be his bargaining chip, but I would also be his demise.
Only it wasn't in the manner I'd originally planned.
I gripped the sheets, almost shocked that he'd actually fallen asleep. What would prevent me from walking out the door other than the dangerous man himself? The light level had fallen, even though the bright moon sliding high into the night sky had left an ominous illumination dancing through the blinds. I'd seen so many emotions rolling through him as he... fucked me. A man like Michael could never make love or enjoy romance. He had basic needs, carnal desires that had to be fulfilled and I'd fit the bill.
The promise.
The deal.
I'd been such a fool to think I could pretend that none of this mattered to me when I'd already fallen into a pit of despair and disbelief. There was also something else that troubled me even more.
I almost liked the guy and I definitely had the kind of burning desire I'd never had for another man. The strange but true realization left my throat tight and my mind reeling.
I bit back a moan as I studied him in his slumber, his features almost beautiful in the limited lighting. He was far more rugged than I'd originally given him credit for, the now two-day stubble giving him a debonair but still roughhewn quality. He was ripped, every muscle well-toned, sculpted from the finest marble. Even his lips were full and voluptuous, a mouth meant for kissing. I leaned closer, wanting nothing more than to admonish my thoughts, but who was here to chastise me for my wickedness?
I'd been taught to be a good girl, to save myself for the perfect man. I knew from several horrible first and only dates that there was no such thing as perfection. Maybe that's one reason I'd almost pretended to care about Vincenzo. He'd been nice on the first meeting, our lunch date pleasant enough with a chaste kiss at the end. I'd simply gone to lunch with him as a request made by my father, never knowing the real reason.
I should have suspected. I'd kept up with enough business both in Italy and the United States to know something was brewing, a dangerous situation. I'd simply chosen to ignore it. I'd fallen into my own trap, refusing to acknowledge my past. Had Michael actually saved me in a way?
Yes.
Had he opened my eyes to the reality of what was going on?
Sadly, yes.
Should I still hate him, loathing all he stood for, even continuing my ploy until I could manage to contact my father?
Now I was hesitating.
I'd heard that having sex with someone changes your relationship forever, but we weren't together. Not really. We were... partners. Wasn't that sick? I hissed under my breath even as I crowded closer. Reaching out, I couldn't stop my hand from crowding closer to his face, my fingers from brushing across his angular jaw. The mere touch alone brought tingles shifting down my arm, sliding directly into my pussy.
I was still wet from the second round of hard fucking, filled with his seed. Instead of feeling dirty, a filthy and nasty girl, I was full and sated. How the hell could that have happened?
At least he was resting peacefully, although only an arm's length away from his weapons. I knew without a doubt if I tried to snatch one, even able to leave the room that I'd never make it down the stairs. He'd discipline me all over again.
I felt the heat creeping in my face at the thought alone. Was I suddenly in need of a spanking? I couldn't fathom why I remained turned on, but I was and ashamed of the fact. I wasn't some submissive ready to kowtow to any man. The little voice inside my head reminded me that I was his prisoner.
I pulled the sheet tighter around my body and in doing so, the silky material slid away from his.
The same arousal that I'd felt before occurred, my breath caught as I allowed my gaze to fall from his chiseled face to his broad chest and finally to his beautiful, thick, and very hard cock. I shuddered as I drifted back to our heated passion, my mouth suddenly dry. My hand shaking, I carefully brushed the tips of my fingers down his chest, marveling in the soft hairs surrounding his belly button. I was actually holding my breath as I continued trailing my fingers down, skating them lightly over his throbbing cock.
I jerked my hand away, a not so gentle reminder that he was still the enemy. This wasn't some love affair. Suddenly, I was claustrophobic, desperately needing air and space. I slipped from under the covers, padding a few steps. I stopped and gave him another look, realizing it was one of longing. I wanted this man still. I craved him.
I also had an instinct to live.