To Have & to Hurt by Morgan Bridges
Violetta
Iwrap myself in a cloak of silence, not trusting myself to say the right things.
Whatever those would be.
I’m not sure what I’d be trying to accomplish anyway. Tristano is livid about something and I don’t have the energy to guess what. Since I haven’t done anything wrong, I wait for him to explain his presence in my room.
“What was Benito doing here?” he asks.
“What are you doing here?”
Tristano works his jaw back and forth, no doubt collecting his thoughts and tempering his wrath. He looks as though he’d love nothing more than to demand answers from me.
“I needed to speak with you.”
I scrunch my face in confusion. “In the middle of the night? That seems highly unlikely.”
He stares at me from across the room, his gaze unreadable. “No more than finding Benito in your room, yet I stand corrected.”
“It would seem so.”
Tristano strides toward me and I retreat until my back hits the wall. My gaze darts around the space, searching for a way to keep him from getting too close, but he has me trapped in seconds. I jump when he slams his palm next to my head and leans in.
“What’s going on between you and Benito?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he snaps. “I will beat the truth out of you if I have to.”
My indignation, powered by hurt and the injustice of this situation, rises up and I squint at him. “If you already know I’m lying, then why should I bother answering you?”
He uses his free hand to grip my jaw and force my head up higher. “You will because I’m commanding you to and any disobedience will result in punishment. It’s that simple.”
“I already told you the truth.” I can’t turn away because he’s holding me and I close my eyes to block him out instead. “You got what you wanted from me, so leave. We both know that’s not hard for you.”
He inhales sharply and then squeezes my jaw until I wince. “Open your eyes, damn it.”
I do, but only so he can see contempt in them. It’s not enough that he used me, now he wants to harass me too. Tears sting my eyes and I try to blink them away before they gather and spill over.
“You’re good at something as well,” he says, releasing his hold on me and straightening. “Whoring yourself out to me and then to Benito within twenty-four hours is quite impressive, and in my house no less. When I said you needed more life experiences, I didn’t think you’d spread your legs so quickly.”
My hand connects with his cheek and a sizzling pain radiates from the center of my palm. “Fuck you!”
If I thought my heart was broken, now it’s pulverized.
We stare at one another with me glaring and him in shock. I’d be surprised at my actions too, but I’m upset and the repercussions of them haven’t fully registered. The current of emotion streaming through me is like a live wire, sparking me into movement, and my feet carry me to the door.
Tristano tries to stop me by calling my name and I ignore him because the days of me obeying him are over. No one is going to disrespect me or tell me what to do anymore.
I have no idea where I’m running to. All Iknow is I need to get away from him before he can cause me permanent damage. If he hasn’t already.
My bare feet tread the carpet silently as I make my way down the long hallway and toward the stairs, with the goal of reaching the front door firmly set in my mind. I think the night air might assist in clearing my head and I’ve spent more of my life inside than not, so the chance to be outside isn’t something I want to pass up. But more importantly, I need to get the hell away from Tristano, even if it’s just for a little while.
The marble of the first stair is cool to touch, as is the iron lattice railing. I grip it tightly and race downward with enough speed to cause the ends of my silk robe to part and then flutter behind me. The hem of my nightie rises daringly high, but without anyone around to see, my modesty remains intact. Although, Tristano’s men could be guarding the exits. The thought gives me pause and I slow down once I’m on the ground floor.
A small shriek crawls up my throat when someone grabs my arm, but the tiny sound is abruptly cut off by their palm covering my mouth. Tristano stares down at me, his silver gaze digging into me like nails. He maneuvers us until I’m nestled into the curve of the stairwell, the iron railing behind me and him in front to prevent any escape. The metal digs into my back and I stiffen my spine at the contact.
“Get away from me,” I say, loud enough for him to hear, but not wake up the others.
“Why? So you can go back to Benito? Or maybe you’d like to fuck someone else on my payroll?”
I lift my hand to slap him again, since the first time was extremely satisfying to my wounded pride, but Tristano intercepts me. He slams my wrist against the ironwork and wraps his fingers around it, keeping me in place. Then he seizes the other and repeats the process.
“What is wrong with you?” I ask, while attempting to break free of his hold. It’s useless but, although I know that, I do it anyway out of pure desperation. Maybe this is what Beni meant when he said to yell if I needed him. As in literally calling for his help.
I don’t want to, but I might if Tristano releases the wrath pulsing just beneath his skin.
He brings his face close to mine and the smell of alcohol hits my nostrils. He’s clearly been drinking but isn’t drunk. His gaze is lucid, indicating he’s level-headed, yet he’s had enough liquor to cripple his inhibitions. That could mean he’s relaxed and would be open to talking sensibly. Or his self-control has been weakened and his fury, which is already slipping through the cracks, will break through completely.
“I gave you the order to stay away from my men,” he says. “Instead of obeying me, you invited one into your bedroom tonight. What’s wrong with this scenario is you, not me.”
My breaths come out in short, angry bursts as I glare up at him while trying to remain calm. “You’re the problem because you’re not hearing what I’m saying. Just because you think your mother’s untrustworthy, that doesn’t mean every other woman is too.”
He grips my wrists until I gasp in pain. “Don’t mention her to me,” he grits out between clenched teeth. “You don’t have the right.”
“The right?” I nearly screech. “You think because you fucked me, it gives you the right to treat me this way? Go to hell, Tristano.”
I’m done being quiet and if someone discovers us, then so be it.
I yank on my arms, trying to get free, and he smirks at me. The sardonic look lights a fire in my belly and now I’m two seconds from screaming my frustration. I twist in his hold and all he does is lean his body against mine to keep me from thrashing about. However, the moment his cock presses into my stomach, I stop moving.
He uses my stillness to adjust his hold on me, gathering and trapping both of my wrists above my head, anchoring them to the metal with a single grip. This new position forces my breasts to thrust forward, molding me to him all the more, even though there’s hardly any space between us.
“You’re right about me,” he says. “I do think I have the right to a great number of things…” He grazes the side of my breast with his knuckles and then slides his hand further down until he’s cupping me between my legs. “Especially where you’re concerned.”
“You’re wrong.”
Those two words are all I can manage. My anger and hurt have fused together, becoming a single heated emotion, but Tristano is transforming that into arousal by putting his hands on me. I will my body to withstand the temptation he offers and not react to the pleasure of his touch, but I know my resistance won’t last long. I’ve already experienced what it’s like to be with him and my skin is already prickling with awareness, growing flushed and warm.
“Am I wrong?” He places his thumb over my clit and then tightens his grip. Jolts of arousal zip through me, making my sex clench and my clit throb. “Am I wrong to think that fucking this pussy means it’s mine?”
I nod, unable to do anything else.
“If it’s not mine, then who does it belong to, Violetta?” I do nothing except narrow my gaze in suspicion as he continues. “Are you saying it’s Benito’s now?”
My head is foggy with lust and my body is begging me to give in to him so he can relieve the ache that’s rapidly building. All of that makes it hard for me to concentrate and keep my anger at the forefront, not my desire.
“Silence is agreeance,” Tristano says, his tone darkening.
He hooks his thumb on the crotch of my panties and pulls them with so much strength they rip as they travel down my thighs. I suck in a breath at the savagery of it all and stare up at him with my eyes round and my lips parted in disbelief. But there is no time for words.
Not when Tristano drives his fingers inside me.
He groans and grinds his cock against my thigh while I struggle to breathe, from both shock and pleasure. “Fuck!” he says on a hiss. “You’re soaking for me, ribelle. You can tell me this pussy isn’t mine, but it knows better. I know better. It remembers my cock and readies itself to be fucked for me. By me.”
After pulling my lower lip into my mouth, I bite down on it to keep from moaning. He can’t know how right he is about everything. I won’t give him that satisfaction because he doesn’t deserve it.
What Tristano needs is pain, just like he gave me.
I shake my head vehemently, almost wildly, not only to get his attention but to let him know the strength of my rejection. “Not for you, not anymore.”
His entire frame turns to stone. The beating of his heart and the pulsing of his cock are the only flickers of life. Even his chest stops moving until he inhales deeply.
“Whose pussy is this then?” He slightly withdraws his fingers, adds a third, and then pistons them in and out of my body at a dizzying speed, driven by his fury. “Tell me, Violet,” he sneers, his lip curling on the nickname Beni gave me. “Tell me who I’ll be murdering tonight for touching what’s mine.”
A choking sound is what emerges when I try to speak because the ecstasy soaring through me is overwhelming and I can’t breathe, let alone think. My sex squeezes around Tristano’s fingers, wanting more, faster and harder. Every thrust pitches me, catapults me toward my orgasm and if it weren’t for him holding my wrists, I might not be able to stand on my own. As it is, my body shakes intensely, not only from the sensual assault but also because my arousal is spiraling out of control.
I feel like I’ll fucking die if I don’t come.
All I need is to hear one more filthy word out of his mouth and I’ll fall into bliss.
He lowers his head to my breast and bites down on my nipple, making me cry out. “These tits belong to me, to suck and bite. And this pussy is mine,” he says on a thrust, “to stretch, to fuck, and to fill with my cum.”
He releases my wrists and brings that hand to my clit, circling it with gentle strokes while finger fucking me. I grip the iron lattice work and hang on so I don’t plummet to the floor, but even with that support my legs almost buckle.
“And this clit?” he murmurs. “It’s mine to tease and to touch. Every part of you is mine. Every gasp, cry, drop of arousal, orgasm, and kiss. All fucking mine.”
My orgasm strikes me like lightning, streaking throughout every nerve ending in my body, from the roots of my hair and down to my toes. I scream from the power of it and Tristano is quick to silence me with his mouth, crushing his lips to mine. It stifles the keening sound, but my body is still wailing its release. The tremors coursing through me bring me to tears, from the rapture and also the severity.
I come so violently that Tristano growls against my lips. He takes each cry and whimper into his mouth, feasting on them as if they’re sustenance. His fingers don’t stop their delicious torture and I mumble incoherent pleas for a reprieve, but he just absorbs them, stealing them by sweeping his tongue across mine.
“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re like this,” he rasps, “begging for what only I can give you. So beg, ribelle. Beg me to have mercy on you, to fuck you until this pussy doesn’t come for anyone else.”
He nips the delicate skin of my neck, making his way south when the next orgasm hits me. I don’t know what I’m saying or if words are even coming out of my mouth. All I know is that I’m lost in Tristano and he has complete and total control of my body.
Whatever he commands me to do at this moment I will.
“That’s my good little slut,” he murmurs against the column of my throat. “Tell me again how I’m the only one you want, the only one who makes you feel this way.”
I do. Through the tears streaming down my cheeks and onto my mouth, as well as the fissures of pleasure that have my lips trembling. I tell him everything.
Even of my love for him.