To Have & to Hurt by Morgan Bridges
Tristano
“Has anyone ever touched you like this?” I ask.
The need to confirm, to be absolutely certain of her innocence, is something I must have before going any further. It’ll not only change how I approach Violetta but also how quickly and aggressively I pleasure her.
She starts to shake her head and then stops to mouth no. Her face flushes, all the blood that deserted her earlier now returning. I prefer this look on her. She is temptation made manifest, sent to this earth to test the limits of my self-control.
It will be the hardest, yet most magnificent challenge I’ve come up against.
If I’m victorious, then my iron-clad will is unbreakable.
If I fail, I’ll lose myself in an addiction I may never break free from.
The very idea that Violetta is pure, untouched by any other man, shifts my mindset to an unstable place. If I were to take this woman, she would be mine in every sense of the word, knowing only my touch, my body, my cum… It fucks with my head and my inner beast claws at my insides, desperate to be free, to take possession.
I redirect my focus to Violetta’s pleasure and her education, because if I don’t, I’m not sure what will happen. And there’s the matter of verifying she’s not lying about her virginity.
I trace the opening of her cunt and progress a little bit with each circular motion, sometimes dipping the very edge of my finger just inside her. Periodically I enhance that sensation by doing the same to her clit simultaneously. That’s when her thigh muscles tighten and her cunt spasms with sexual tension.
“Every time your pussy cinches like that it’s because it wants to be filled,” I say. “Your body knows what it wants on an instinctive level that is beyond words. See what happens when I do this?”
I slide my finger in until the first knuckle and the tightness of her has my lust skyrocketing and a bead of pre-cum coating the tip of my cock. She’s slick enough for me to do more but doesn’t trust me enough to relax. The fact that I’m taking my time is not only for her, it’s for me. I’m savoring this first experience with her.
And it’s not the only one I want.
Using the pad of my finger, I massage her completely and thoroughly, until her cunt grows wetter than before. That’s when I curl my finger and lightly scrape the slick wall of her before extending my finger and dragging it along the same path, but with pressure this time.
Violetta’s breath hitches. That sound drives me crazy when it comes from her. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s always silent, but the reason doesn’t matter. I lean down and flick my tongue at the corner of her mouth, wanting to taste her surprised response. Instead of turning away, Violetta brings her lips closer, giving me complete access.
Now I’m the one who’s shocked; I assumed I’d have to order her compliance.
I kiss her, using the diversion to push further inside her body, while maintaining a slow but steady rhythm of strokes that has Violetta gyrating her hips; whether or not she’s aware of it. Each time I go deeper and apply more pressure, working her pussy that much harder.
Another gasp escapes her, but this time I taste it, breathe it in as I continue to kiss her, not willing to let a single sound go unheeded. They are rare, which makes them valuable to me. Unlike other women who sometimes make noise to impress themselves, Violetta is authentic in her responses, making me crave more of them.
I take her tongue in my mouth and suck on it just before I bury my finger inside her completely. The groan that reverberates at the back of my throat is muffled by her lips; that sound is the first major sign of weakness overtaking me. This crack in my self-control is worsened by her moan and the way she squeezes my hand and fingers with both her thighs and cunt.
“You see?” I say between kisses. “Your pussy may be tight, but it wants to be filled so you can experience sensation all over, not just in one spot.” I make a wide circle with my finger to ensure that every inch of her feels me, that every inch of her is aware of the pleasure I’m giving her. “And this is just my finger…” I rasp, almost unable to continue. “Can you imagine how fucking good it would be if it was my cock?”
She whimpers and there is no apprehension to be found. That tiny warble only had undertones of longing and a bit of frustration. Violetta may not know much, but after her time with me at the hotel, she’s aware of what it’s like when I make her orgasm. Although this will be different and more intense for her.
“The more you try to fight it, the stronger it’s going to be,” I say. “The build-up is excruciating, yet exquisite because you know what’s going to happen and how good it’s going to feel.” I insert another finger and she buries her face in my neck. With her lips pressed against my skin, I feel the vibrations of her moan and I thrust even harder into her body.
“Since you won’t share the sound of your voice with me, then I take the sounds of your ecstasy instead.”
Violetta clings to me as if she’s free falling through the air, needing something to hold onto. Her entire frame locks up and she sucks in a deep breath, right before her body trembles almost violently. Her cunt spasms with her orgasm and she lifts her hips so high I have to tighten my grip on her to keep her from sliding off my lap.
Watching this woman come without the ability to control herself turns me on to the point I’m suffering just looking at her and not being able to sink between her thighs to fuck her like I want. Like I need.
My hunger for Violetta is becoming dangerous, not only to her but me as well. It’s very close to an obsession and I can’t afford that. No one except me is the master of my life, and that includes my thoughts, which have been plagued by her ever since the first time she courageously met my gaze without flinching.
Violetta is off-limits for me, yet that doesn’t mean a damn thing to me when she’s shaking in my arms, moaning in my ear, and her cunt clenches around my fingers.
All I know is I have to get rid of my addiction for her.
Either I stay away from her by utilizing my self-control, which grows weaker with every moment I’m around her, or I can fuck Violetta until the very thought of her bores me. Sleeping with the same woman after an initial encounter is something I’ve never done and that might have to change…
The difference is, having sex with Violetta comes with complications and consequences.
Her hand falls away from the material of my shirt as she continues to breathe unsteadily, the puffs of warm air brushing past the base of my throat. I languidly stroke her cunt, not willing to remove my fingers just yet. Having her pliant and satiated while resting on my lap brings a strange contentment I haven’t felt before. I chalk it up to Violetta being a challenge that I’ve conquered, and assume the feeling is nothing other than satisfaction.
The newness of her will fade soon, I’m sure.
“Ribelle?”
She slowly lifts her head and I’m not able to clearly see the alluring hues of her eyes due to the setting sun, but I can’t mistake the haze of wonder still swirling in their depths. I run my gaze over her flushed cheeks and swollen lips, and my satisfaction morphs into something else, something deeper I can’t identify.
“Are you still scared of what I’ve done to you?”
She starts to shake her head and if it weren't for my hold on her, Violetta would shoot from my lap when I roughly thumb her clit. After that jolt travels through her, she scrunches her face in momentary bliss while her cunt squeezes my fingers.
No, she mouths with her eyes still closed.
“That’s how it should be. There’s nothing you should fear when you’re with me.”
With an exhale of frustration, I remove my hand from her drenched cunt and retrieve my handkerchief to wipe off my fingers. The temptation to suck them, to really taste her is one I have to forgo unless I want to lose all control and fuck her like an animal on these leather seats. I’ve already had my focus broken because of her and I can’t allow that to continue.
Violetta’s gaze widens and I follow her line of sight to the material in my hand. It has streaks of blood on it, the policeman’s to be exact. I see nothing wrong because when I look at the crimson stains I’m reminded of how I shot that motherfucker in the head. Did he really think he could touch Violetta and still live? Such a foolish notion.
I tuck the linen back into my pocket and place a single fingertip beneath her chin to keep her in place. “That blood was the result of him trying to fuck with someone under my protection. And that’s what’ll happen to anyone who thinks to touch you. Hai capacito?”
The relief in her eyes is evident. Yes.
“Excellent. Now be a good girl and go sit in your seat.”
She hesitates. It’s only for a second, maybe even half of one, but I catch it. The question is why? Did she want to stay with me? And if so, for what reason? I assume that if she’d prefer to remain sitting on my lap it would be due to fear and nothing else. After the police harassed us and threatened to rape her and Octavia, I can only imagine Violetta wanting to feel secure and I don’t begrudge her for it.
When she moves to sit where I told her, regret flows over me. It’s like a breeze, passing quickly and gone within the blink of an eye, but I can’t deny it.
I adjust my cock, which is stiff as fuck, and it draws Violetta’s attention. She stares at it with an almost quizzical or intellectual expression and my lips twitch with suppressed amusement. Although she’s seen my cock in the flesh, the woman almost looks hypnotized by it.
To fuck with her, I grip it through my pants and run my thumb over the head. Violetta jerks her gaze up and her cheeks flood with color.
“Put your seatbelt on,” I say.
She delays a little too long for my liking.
I lean toward her and lower my voice, not really keen on the idea of Benito hearing me. The entire time I touched Violetta, no one glanced in our direction due to the noises created by the vehicle’s tires trampling over the uneven terrain. We left the main road a while ago and the dense forests around us indicate we are leaving civilization further behind.
“If you don’t do what I say, then that’s going to earn you a punishment,” I say, “one that I’m very happy to administer at my earliest convenience.”
Violetta gulps and then reaches for the seat belt to secure it in the buckle. Then she turns away from me with her arms folded underneath her breasts.
She is a vision.
I indulge myself by looking at her, by taking in the gentle slopes and curves of her profile, as well as her figure. She purses her lips and tilts her head while peering at something in the distance, and I commit every detail of this visual to my mind. Her dark hair flutters about because of the windows being down and the wind shifting the curly tendrils gives her an ethereal look.
There’s something very alluring and captivating about Violetta, besides her natural beauty. I think it’s because of the contrasts in her. She is both an innocent and a temptress, as well as a challenge and a victory. The dichotomy of her fascinates me.
At an unhealthy level.
I watch her the rest of the long drive and eventually the vehicle slows just outside a gate made up of wood and barbed wire. Not exactly state-of-the-art, but I highly suspect the fence surrounding the open field in front of me is not meant to keep humans out.
There are other means of doing so that include a different type of steel…
“We’re here, señor,” Octavia says, waving a hand. “Welcome to Cielo Vista, property of El Jefe.”
The vast fields of coca plants stretch far into the horizon, barely lit by the setting sun and casting the vegetation into shadow. The workers are still milling about, transporting the leaves to the chemical plants, identified by the large, ranch-style building off to the right. Further down, on the opposite side of the rows of bushes, is another building that is nondescript and its purpose isn’t quite clear. Although, it could be to house or feed the laborers. And finally there’s a traditional mission-style church, complete with crosses on top, thick arches, and a stucco exterior.
Apparently El Jefe is a religious criminal, not unlike us Italians.
“The church, along with a feeding center, is all funded by El Jefe.”
I nod and Benito slides his gaze to mine, then gives me a nod, letting me know he’s keeping watch over Violetta while protecting my blindspots. I return the gesture. Everyone exits the jeep and because of the vehicle’s height Benito turns to assist Violetta. She takes his proffered hand with a wary expression, while his sparkles with mischief. Then he winks at her. Violetta does nothing except purse her lips, but the entire exchange causes annoyance to stir in the pit of my gut, heating with every passing moment.
“This way,” Octavia says with an outstretched hand, successfully diverting my attention. “My instructions were to bring you to the church where Father Diego will meet us.”
“Is he the informant for your boss?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t believe so, but like I said before, I don’t know anything more than you do at this point. Now that we’re here, I’ll be waiting for the next set of orders to carry out.”
“El Jefe is quite secretive. I can’t fault them, but I find it rather inconvenient and irritating in this situation.”
Octavia grins at me. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Her two guards don’t follow. Instead they veer off to the other building, leaving the rest of us with Octavia. She walks with confidence, but there’s also a fluidity to her movements that’s relaxed. This place isn’t new to her. It’s made more apparent when a nun, dressed in a habit with a wicker basket on her hip, nods in Octavia’s direction.
“Buenas tardes, Maria,” she says.
“Buenas tardes, señorita.”
Octavia points to the basket full of vegetables. “Trabajando mucho, hermana?”
“Sí. Ve con Dios.”
“Ve con Dios.”
After pulling open one set of double doors, Octavia slows her steps and waits for me to enter. Benito goes before me and Octavia raises her brows in a silent inquiry. I don’t respond because she should know he’s confirming it’s safe before I enter.
Once Benito returns, he says in Italian, “It’s all clear. There’s no one in there except the priest and two other nuns. If there’s going to be a shootout, it’s going to be quicker than David killing Goliath. Just saying.”
Octavia’s lips quirk up and suspicion briefly flares. I ignore it since Benito didn’t say anything that I didn’t want her to know, but I make a mental note to tell him that we might not be free to speak in our native tongue. Considering how much Octavia resembles my mother, it wouldn’t surprise me if she spoke Italian because she’s a relative.
I need to find out exactly what kind.