To Have & to Hurt by Morgan Bridges
Tristano
Violetta masturbating on the table in front of me, where I’m basically eye-level to her cunt is nothing short of a fucking fantasy.
When she first walked over to me I saw the glint of determination in her gaze and thought it was nothing more than her usual spark of rebellion. Little did I know what she was planning. Would I have been able to stop her if I had? I highly doubt it.
Even I don’t have that much willpower.
Her sexy little moan has my cock straining, my balls tightening, and my fists clenching. I tell myself that if I don’t touch her, then I can enjoy what she’s doing. And I do.
So fucking much.
Looking at her spread before me, like a feast ready to be devoured, has my inner beast pacing inside my chest. I want nothing more than to climb onto the table and fuck her until that pretty pussy is so swollen I can’t fit my cock inside anymore. Or I pass out from exhaustion. Those are the only options.
I grind the heel of my hand along the length of my cock and groan, in both pleasure and frustration. Masturbation is all well and good when you don’t have a cunt to sink into, but not only is there one, Violetta is offering it to me on a platter.
And I’m starving.
I’ve been this way since the beginning and I tell myself it’s because she’s attractive, young, and a virgin, but I’m lying. I’d want her even without those things. Those characteristics only make staying away from her that much harder.
“Tristano,” she breathes. The desperation and sexual tension coming from her is almost more than I can take. “Please.”
“Not yet.”
I might kill us both by denying her.
She gives a little cry, but remains obedient, continuing to massage her clit. Her breasts heave with her jagged breaths and her thighs tremble from the strain of her position and also from battling her orgasm.
It’s the best thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life.
Against my better judgement, I lean forward. Now I’m so close I can smell her arousal and feel the warmth of her cunt. Fuck me, I’m definitely a masochist.
“On the count of three,” I rasp. “Let me hear you.”
“One. Two. Three.”
As soon as the last syllable leaves her mouth, I drive my fingers into her cunt. Violetta’s scream is beautiful; it’s full of ecstasy, surprise, and gratification.
I thrust in and out of her body as it convulses violently, her hips lifting and her breasts swaying. Every second of bliss for her is a threat to me and I almost come. To keep from that from happening, I focus on drawing out her orgasm, and the next one that follows.
“It’s too much!” she pants. Violetta’s hand falls away from her clit, but I don’t stop. Not even when she reclines to lie prone on the table and her feet slip from the armrests of my chair. “Please, no more.”
In response to her whispered plea, I lift my other hand and take over where she left off, my fingers now busy stroking her cunt and clit. She nearly jackknifes off the table by arching her spine and low moans pour from her lips. Tendrils of her dark hair glide across the linen as she thrashes her head back and forth, gripping the tablecloth with both hands.
“You’re going to take it like a good girl,” I say, “calling my name and begging me for more until I’m satisfied, not you. Hai capacito?”
“Yes, I understand. Tristano I need you, all of you.”
I’m unsure if Violetta realizes she’s speaking Italian because she’s so overwhelmed and beyond coherent. It only serves to turn me on all the more.
I withdraw my hands and shift them to grip her inner thighs and she laments with a tiny wimper. But when I wrap my lips around her clit and suck hard, she shrieks. And comes. I revel in her orgasm, experiencing every wave of rapture through her body’s quivering. She goes to new heights and I can only go so far with her.
When some of her euphoria has dwindled, Violetta lifts her head and props herself up on her forearms. Our gazes collide in a clash of silver and blue-green, two opponents scrutinizing each other for weaknesses.
She finds and exploits mine.
“I want you,” she says, her voice clear and strong, despite her exhaustion. “Do you want me?”
“You know I do.” My voice, on the other hand, is low and guttural because of the strain I’m putting myself under by resisting her.
“Then fuck me, Tristano. Give me what I want, what we both want.”
I close my eyes and lean my face against her thigh, drawing in several deep breaths. I gather the last threads of my self-control while silently reinforcing the belief that denying myself gratification for the betterment of others is nothing new. I’m doing what’s best, although it goes against every instinct I possess.
“The risks are too great,” I grit out, my frustration at a dangerously high level, “and I don’t want to hurt you.”
Violetta scoots back on the table, creating distance between us. I snap my eyes open to find her glaring at me and the oceanic hues in her gaze shining with anger. Or is it tears?
“The risks?” She scoffs. “Anything between us can and probably will end up being more detrimental to me, so don’t you dare talk about risks. And pain? The emotional kind is far worse than physical, trust me. You encouraged me to make my own decisions and I chose you, but you’re not choosing me in return.”
She closes her legs and smiles at me, but there is no warmth to be found. In its place is a darkness, a deadened look that’s creeping along the edges of her gaze and slowly turning it dull and lifeless, to the way it was when I met her.
Violetta is withdrawing inside herself.
Alarm streaks through me and I get to my feet, now towering over her. Violetta raises her chin to look up at me, and out of defiance.
“You’re right,” she says, her voice eerily calm. “I should’ve known better.” She makes to get off the table and I grab both of her wrists, pinning them down on either side of her hips. “Let go of me.”
I shake my head. “Not until you tell me where you’re going.”
“I’m getting away from you.”
“To do what?”
Violetta squints up at me. “To choose another man.”
An image of her having sex with someone else bombards me and then my vision blurs with rage. This is beyond jealousy. It’s a fiery, all-consuming possessive instinct that combines my fury and lust into an inferno that could incinerate us both.
My gaze clears and my decision, the one driven by the primal, instinctive part of me takes over.
I release one of her wrists and then swipe at the items crowding the table. The dishes, glasses, and cutlery crash to the patio floor and Violetta stares up at me with widened eyes as though I’ve gone insane. And I have, with the need to show her that I won’t allow her to dismiss me.
Or replace me.
“Let go,” she says, her voice weak.
I remove my hand on her wrist to take hold of the hair at the nape of her neck. When I yank on the strands, Violetta’s head falls backwards and her lips part on a hiss. That’s the first sound of pain I’ve wrested from her.
And it’s far from being the last.
My muscles coil with anticipation right before I join her on the table, my knees on either side of her hips. When I lean down I synchronize that motion with me pulling her hair, forcing her to lie flat on her back with me hovering just above her.
I place my mouth just beside her ear and whisper, “Remember that you wanted this.”
She shivers underneath me and every tremor transfers from her to me wherever our bodies touch. Violetta is right to be afraid because there’s no turning back now.
I slam my mouth to hers. It’s the first of many things I’ll take control over. Every word, every moan, and every cry belongs to me and she will need permission to utilize any and all of them. The pressure of my lips on hers is anything but gentle as I slant them over hers in a series of punishing kisses. When she struggles to breathe I pull back enough to let her suck in a quick breath and then I invade her mouth with my tongue, sweeping it along hers and dominating it.
Violetta’s confusion is portrayed in how she lies unmoving, not touching or grabbing me, and in hesitant flicks of her tongue against mine. Yet her body is not confused in the slightest. Her hardened nipples are felt in spite of our clothing and when I reach between her legs I find her cunt weeping. That has me groaning into her mouth and my cock so hard it's beyond discomfort.
Painful would be accurate, which is also a prediction I’ll turn into reality.
I make quick work of the fastenings of my pants and shove them down low enough to free my cock. Then I take Violetta’s hand and wrap it around me. Her eyes pop open to meet mine and the wonder in her gaze is priceless to me. I break the kiss so I can savor this moment because a “first time” can’t be duplicated.
“Have you ever touched a man’s cock?” I ask her.
She quickly shakes her head, her bewildered expression still in place. It makes me all the more eager to fuck her, not to mention how pleased I am with her answer. I cover Violetta’s hand with mine and guide it up and down, showing her how to stroke me. To say it feels good is an understatement.
It’s fucking incredible.
After a minute, I pull her hand away and her brows draw together, but she remains silent. Which is for the best. If I hear her say anything else about another man I might fuck her throat until she can’t speak for another two years.
Using my knee, I widen her legs and then settle between them. The head of my cock skims her swollen clit and then her cunt, causing her to suck in a breath.
“That’s right, ribelle. You’re going to take the entire length, all of my cock, until I’m in so fucking deep that the head reaches your womb.”
Instead of protesting or looking away in fear, Violetta holds my gaze. Whatever she sees makes her nervous, but from the set of her chin and the fire in her eyes, she’s not mentally shutting down.
But I am.
All of my frustration and anger take me prisoner, shackling me in chainlinks constructed and forged with lust and desire. They weigh on me and I’m nearly helpless to stop the urges of my body and mind. With one hand I grab her hip, digging my fingers into her skin to hold her in place, and with the other I line up my cock, dragging the head through the slick warmth of her cunt.
She moans at that, but the sound quickly morphs into a cry when I drive into her body. The tightness of her is so fucking good I nearly come. Not giving her time to adjust to my size, I withdraw and then thrust in again, the resistance a lot less this time. I groan low in my throat, unable to form words.
She is perfection.
I lift up and glance down between our bodies to see my cock inside her, fully sheathed, fully immersed in her heat. And when I pull out halfway, I can make out the blood of her innocence on my cock, the purity of her staining my skin. The sacredness of this isn’t lost on me, but my needs propel me to take action, to find relief.
For us both.
Violetta winces when I begin to move, but I don’t stop this time and with each gyration of my hips, her cunt takes my cock a little easier. Then I’m pushing into her, deeper and harder, only for her to get wetter and for her pussy to grip my cock tighter. The first time she raises her hips to meet my thrust I know she’s with me.
Her moans follow after and I reward Violetta by slamming into her, stroking that sensitive part of her that’ll bring about her orgasm. I grind into her body at a manic pace, fucking her until I can barely breathe and my muscles strain as my strength begins to wane.
“You better come,” I say in her ear, “because I’m not going to stop fucking you until you do.”
She grabs my biceps and digs her nails into my skin, not to inflict pain but to ground herself in me. I welcome that connection, encourage it by trailing my lips and tongue down her neck and then biting her shoulder.
Violetta arches her back and presses herself closer to me. “Harder.”
The single word sets me off and I drive into her body like I’ll die if I stop. Sweat dots the expanse of my back and my chest from exertion, but when the walls of her cunt flutter and her orgasm crashes into her, I’m renewed with a burst of energy.
“I’m going to come in this tight pussy of yours. I fucked it so now it’s mine.” I grab her throat and squeeze it just enough to cut off her cries of ecstasy and she shoots her gaze to me, her body still convulsing from bliss streaking through her. “Tell me, whose pussy is this?”
I let up the pressure on her neck and she whispers, “Yours, Tristano. Only yours.”
Either her orgasm intensifies or she comes again, but I barely notice the difference because my cock swells and then I’m coming so hard that it feels like the wind has been knocked out of me. Violetta keens softly and tears stream down both sides of her face, yet she continues to meet my punishing thrusts, lifting her hips to take me deeper.
Eventually my pace slows, even though I don’t want to stop. The sex is incomparable, unique in that I did everything I wanted without her objecting to it. I didn’t have to wait for her cunt accommodate my size because I wanted it as tight as possible. I drew blood, not only because of her virginity, but also from where I bit her. And I fucked her long and hard, using her body until I was spent.
I let the beast out of its cage and not only did Violetta welcome it, she tamed it.
It takes the last of my strength to keep from crushing her, so I remain propped up on my forearms and let my head fall forward to rest on the soft curve of her breast. The pleasure I derive from hearing her heart beat in my ear, having her skin underneath my fingertips, and feeling her breaths flow over me is like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
It would seem as though we’re both having a “first” tonight.