Chapter 13 CONFUSING AND TWISTED.
\~~~RAINA.
“Six.”
I murmur, my eyes squeezed shut, and my voice trembling more than I want it to.
If Luciano is enjoying this, he doesn’t show it. His face is blank, cold, and unreadable and it is as if none of this means a damn thing to him.
But me?
God, I can’t even explain what is happening to me.
This isn’t just pain anymore. It is something else.
Something dark, confusing… and twisted.
It hurts so bad that I almost gasp every time his fingers move, yet somehow, the pain curls into something shamefully warm inside me.
I hate it.
I hate my body for this betrayal.
For the way my thighs tremble, for the way heat pools low in my stomach when it should be rage, and for the way I feel wet down there.
I should be angry, I should be fighting him.
But instead, my breath keeps stuttering out of me in shaky bursts. My pulse keeps racing like I am hanging off the edge of something dangerous and addictive.
I hate him. God, I hate this.
And yet, the worst part is that my body doesn’t.
It answers to his touch like it has been waiting for it all along and like it knows something I don’t.
A lump forms in my throat as I force my voice out again, softer this time.
“Eight.”
Luciano didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look at my face.
His gaze stays fixed on my breasts where his hand is like he is studying the way I react, every flinch, and every tremor.
The silence between us grows heavier, and thicker and the only sound left is my uneven breathing and the slow, deliberate rhythm of his movements.
What is he doing to me?
What kind of punishment is this supposed to be when it burns and soothes at the same time?
My head feels foggy, my thoughts slipping between shame and something dangerously close to surrender.
I want to pull away. I should pull away.
But my body…
My body didn’t move.
And that is what scares me the most.
I am enjoying this. No, I even want more.
I want him to not only touch my beast, but everywhere.
I want him to…
“Twelve,” I moaned.
Just two more.
I whisper to myself, closing my eyes.
By the time I am about to whisper the last number, a moan escapes me, loud and trembling.
“Fourteen.”
With that, Luciano pulls his hand away and leans back in his seat, deliberate and calm.
“Asshole…” I grit my teeth, anger and frustration mingling in my voice.
But then Luciano leans forward again, slowly dropping his hand onto my hair, and stroking it gently.
“That’s my girl.”
“Don’t call me that!” I slap his hand away, crawling backward.
“Why, Solnishko?”
“You called that a punishment?!” I holler.
“Would you rather I beat the fuck out of you?” He asks, still smirking so annoyingly.
“Yes! Beat me! Beat me to stupor till I enter comatose!” I cry out.
Luciano leans down slowly, his face almost close to mine, and then says,
“Do you hate it so much that your body reacts to my touch?”
“You think too highly of yourself, don’t you?”
“Tell me, baby girl. Tell me the truth.”
“W… what?”
“Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me, and I would fuck the hell out of you without thinking twice.”
“Why don’t you tell me?” I moved an inch closer, pretending like those vulgar words from him didn’t just make me feel hotter than before.
“What, butterfly?”
“Why don’t you tell me that you go around like you can control the little rod in between your legs when you actually can’t?”
“Little rod? Are you trying to provoke me, my wife?” He asks as he gently trails his fingers over my collarbone.
“Provoke you?” I scoffed. “It is not like you can do anything to me. You don’t even come close.”
“Yet, you tremble under my touch. Like a slut, your arousal fills the air. Tell me, Solnishko, if it is not you trying to provoke me, what else is it?”
“I am not a slut!” I snap at him.
“Oh, but you are. You are my little slut. Your body trembles at the slightest touch from me. Your cunt gets wet and all that goes through that head of yours is how you’d like for me to go beyond pinching your pretty red nipple.”
“You…” I curled my hands into a tight ball as I felt my face flushed.
God, I am not the type to get turned on by vulgar words like this.
They in fact, give me the irk.
So, what is going on with me?
Oh, shit…
“Stand up, baby girl, and run to the bathroom.”
“What does it matter to you?” I hiss.
“Oh, it does. Because, trust me, I would love to have those nipples in my fingers again.”
That was all I needed to hear.
I snatch my blouse from the floor, clutch it tightly to my chest, and stand.
Without a single glance back, I hurry to the bathroom, breathing hard, every step echoing the chaos inside of me.