To Have & to Hurt by Morgan Bridges

Tristano

The intent is to distract her.

The strategy is simple.

The result is disastrous.

Violetta watches me like a bird observes a cat slinking across the yard. She looks ready to take flight, to leave for a place of safety inaccessible to me. But there’s nowhere she can go that I won’t be able to get to her, nowhere she’s not within my reach.

And that’s assuming Violetta manages to somehow escape me.

But right now in this vehicle, in my arms, she’s trapped. If I’m similar to a cat, and her a canary, then it makes sense why I want to devour her whole.

All thought evaporates the moment she swirls her tongue around my thumb. The sensation sends a jolt to my cock and it hardens more than before. Just that tiny action has me wanting to strip her naked and fuck her on these seats, and I wouldn’t give a shit who watched or heard as long as I was the one thrusting into her cunt. The very idea she could be a virgin wouldn’t stop me.

That innocent blood, and the purity of it, would be mine.

My blood heats in response to that line of thinking and I can’t imagine anything sweeter or more satisfying. In the past I only slept with women who were experienced because I never had the inclination or patience to guide someone through sex and everything else that precedes it. I don’t believe women when they say they’re pure, but I don’t bother with them anyway, erring on the side of caution. Even the ones at the annual gala, who were guaranteed to be untouched, probably aren’t.

Instinct tells me Violetta actually is.

It’s not only how she responds when I touch her, but it’s in the way she gazes up at me when I do. Usually Violetta’s closed off with a blank stare, and the defense mechanism is understandable given who her father is. Yet, whenever I stroke her or brush my fingers over her skin, the mental barricades she surrounds herself with disintegrate.

And I’m able to clearly see everything she tries to keep hidden from me.

Right now she looks at me unabashed, with arousal swimming in her oceanic eyes. It’s a temptation I should be able to dismiss. I’ve denied myself many things over the years when my responsibilities clashed with my personal agenda, and it’s done nothing except give me a measure of self-control that’s enviable.

Even so, I’m unable to walk away from the enticement that is Violetta.

I slide my thumb further into her warm mouth, the pad scraping over her bottom teeth, and her hot breath glides over my hand. She keeps her tongue still for a moment and then closes her lips around my thumb when I press down on it. My cock twitches at the idea of being it there instead, and I’d give almost anything to fuck her mouth right now.

And I almost do when she begins to suck.

Every neuron in my brain fires a slew of various thoughts and they all travel to the place where good intentions and honor go to die. Of its own volition, my hand on her waist clenches, pressing her soft curves harder against my chest. I thrust my finger in and out of her mouth and nearly groan when she sucks on it again.

After placing my lips by her ear, I say, “Ragazza sporca.”¹

She hastily jerks her head to the side, dislodging my thumb and triggering my excitement, my need to possess her. I don’t chase women because they never run from me. Violetta might be trying to, but it’s futile.

If I want something, nothing short of death will stop me from getting it.

With enough pressure to mildly sting, I nip at the side of her neck. She jolts in my hold and I smile against her skin, my lips lightly grazing the tender flesh. “You can’t provoke a predator and expect it not to bite. Calm yourself, ribelle, I didn’t draw blood.”

But I would if I fucked you.

Violetta’s chest rises and falls with each of her rapid breaths and once I palm her breast, the motion halts. Her stiffened nipple is easily felt through both the fabric of her shirt and bra, and I inwardly gloat. Mentally, she’s anxious and restrained around me, but physically she’s passionate. Just like the woman herself, Violetta’s body doesn’t speak, however, it does communicate silently, and most beautifully.

I’d bet my fortune she’s already wet.

The last bit of my inner fortitude is the only thing keeping me from taking what she’s offering. But that doesn’t mean I can’t sample her…

“You’re not breathing,” I say. She inhales deep, thrusting her breast into my hand all the more. “That’s my good girl. Make sure you continue breathing, and not only that, but keep your inhalations as even as possible.”

She pulls back just enough to search my gaze. Her eyes are a tumultuous sea of green and blue, growing more and more cloudy as though a storm approaches. I suppose I am that to her, since I do plan to surround her, overtake her, and bend her to my will like a tempest does a vessel.

I let her see the intention in my gaze.

Every single wicked thing I want to do to her.

While comprehension slowly dawns, Violetta’s mouth slackens and I use her distraction as an opportunity. I take hold of her thigh and spread her just enough so I can put my hand between her legs. When I grab her cunt, she slaps a hand on my chest, and I ignore it, choosing to focus on the heat of her against my palm.

“Are you wet?”

She blinks at me, like a prey caught in a trap, eyes wide and pupils dilated. I know she’s overwhelmed and for some inexplicable reason I enjoy it. Maybe it’s because her lack of education in such things allows me to experience this novelty with her. Or perhaps it’s due to the fact I know what’s going to happen and I’m savoring the anticipation.

Whatever the case, I can’t stop what’s happening.

“I asked you a question,” I prompt, studying her closely. “I’m not going to repeat myself.”

While I wait for her to answer, I make tiny circles on her clit through her underwear. She stops breathing again, so I slide my other hand from her waist and up to her breast to tweak her nipple between my fingers, rolling it back and forth, applying more pressure with each motion. Her gasp is barely audible, but loud enough for me to hear it. Possibly because I’m now trailing kisses along her jawline.

She fists my shirt and her hips buck when my strokes to her clit become more aggressive and faster. I inhale the scent of her, pulling that heady essence into me, and raise my head to stare down at her. She briefly closes her eyes and her brow furrows just the tiniest bit, either from her attempt to maintain control, or because the pleasure has overwhelmed her.

After lifting her lashes to look at me, Violetta tugs on my clothes and mouths wet.

I shake my head at her and she narrows her gaze, but when I pinch her nipple her eyes go wide with both surprise and desire.

“I want complete sentences.” I take her bottom lip between my own and lightly graze the delicate skin with my teeth before releasing it. “You should be grateful I’m not making you say it out loud.”

Her anger is quick to rise, along with her rebellion. Violetta smacks my hand away from her breast and then takes my forearm, shoving with all her might. The strength she possesses is nothing compared to mine and I don’t try to hide the fact.

Instead, I hook my fingers into the crotch of her underwear and yank down until the material rests just past her knees. She digs her nails into my skin and frantically shakes her head, the color in her cheeks disappearing as the blood drains from her face. I anchor Violetta to me by wrapping my free hand around her waist again. Then I drop my head to rest it in the curve of her neck to fortify myself while I explore her.

Swollen flesh, followed by dampness and heat are what I discover.

I clench my teeth and swallow a groan, one that’d be more of a growl if I were to let it out. Because right now I want to let my inner beast take over. But I can’t do that.

Not unless I want to completely lose control.

She turns to stone in my embrace the moment I outline the entrance of her cunt. Her fear is understandable but temporary. Soon arousal will overtake her and she won’t remember why she was frightened to begin with. At that point Violetta will beg me to touch her, to come.

In an audible voice.

Ever since I heard it I can’t stop thinking about it, replaying the memory again and again in my mind. Maybe if she had spoken any other word except my name, I could’ve let it go. The undertones of fear and desperation were stark, easily heard, but what was subtle— yet impacted me the most—was the slender thread of hope. It was as though Violetta called to me because she instinctively knew if I came for her she’d be saved.

That confidence in my abilities, along with her specifically wanting me to handle whatever she was dealing with, struck a chord.

For the first time in my life someone needed me. Not due to the authority I have as the eldest male in my family or because of the influence and wealth at my disposal. Or even because of my physical appearance and my skills in bed. It was simply for Tristano, for the man I am once everything else has been stripped away.

No other woman has done that.

“Violetta, look at me.” When she does I brush my mouth over hers. The simple kiss isn’t what she was expecting and it’s apparent by the tiny crease between her eyebrows. So I do it again but softer. “You enjoyed what I’ve done up til now and I can promise you that you’ll like this even more. You’re going to trust me in this, hai capacito?”

Her lips tremble as she mouths the word okay. Then she averts her gaze and the corners of her mouth tighten. Violetta lets go of my shirt to place her fisted hands at her sides, in what translates to me as surrender.

But is she obeying because she has to or because she wants to?

It doesn’t matter since it’ll be the latter before long.

1  Dirty girl.