“It's the fourth time you slap my face,” I clutch my fists, because I could really take her by her hair, turn her over, pull her leggings down and take her from behind.
Now, right now, fuck.
“Who do you think you are?” she says between her teeth. Her courage excites me.
I step forward and she steps back, slowly. If I take her, I’ll hurt her, but not in the way she thinks.
“You hit me again,” I growl.
“Krum,” she put her hands up. My advances are so harsh to be mirrored in her eyes as a threatening warning.
When I spring forward to pick her up, she escapes to the bathroom. I follow her and she hides behind the door, but before she can close it, I put a foot in the middle.
“No,” she cries. She's afraid.
The game is so fun that I could give her a some advantage, just for the pleasure of the upcoming conquest.
I clench my teeth when she steps on my foot. I instinctively pull it back and she immediately closes the door, turning the key.
I punch the door and yell: “Ambra, open the door!”
“No,” she cries back.
“Open!”
“Go away.”
Something inside me is horrified by the memory of her frightened eyes. Knowing that anything I do terrorizes her is not always a pleasure and sometimes, as it is now, is a defeat, the clear demonstration of the contempt and the lack of confidence she feels for me.
Of course I’m not helping her. My eyes, my tones, my gestures, are always misunderstood and never intercepted as simple expressions of desire.
I punch the door twice, even stronger than before, I don’t like her to run away from me. I wish I could look at her at least, letting me be dazzled by her angry look that wraps me in that hateful cloud that only she can form.
“Ambra, open this fucking door or I swear I'll knock it down. You know I'll do it. Open.”
“I won’t open it, go away,” her voice is a stab in my chest. She's crying, I can perceive it.
“Open. This. Fucking. Door,” I hiss more calmly.
“I don’t want to see you now. Go away. You're nervous, you're gonna hurt me…”
I squint my eyes and beat my forehead on the door. I feel weak; she sucked up all my energy with her words. She always fears that I can hurt her when I want her to be safe. I swallow her bitter words and try to change my tone of voice, hoping she'll believe in my words.
“Ambra,” I speak lowly. I hope she hears me. “Ambra.”
“What do you want?” she screams.
“Open the door. I don’t want to hurt you. That's not what I wanted to do.”
“Ah, no? And what did you want to do?”
“Open and you'll see.”
I don’t think I’m able to use quieter tones than these. I also think I have adopted a certain sweet tonality.
“Ambra.”
She stays silent and a lament comes out of my mouth.
“Yporita zhena!” Stubborn woman.
I sigh, still beating my head on the door, if she doesn’t open it, I’ll knock it down. Then I hear the click of the lock, but I wait before opening.
When I do , she is sitting on the marble counter. She’s swinging her feet and holds her head down.
I approach her slowly, hoping that sooner or later she’ll look up at me even though I don’t expect it. It's nice to see that she does it because she wants to, it's good to know she wants to look inside me.
I put my hands on the cold marble and trap her. I bend a bit looking for her face and finally she shows me those two stratospheric eyes.
“What did you want to do?” she whispers.
“I wanted to keep doing this…”
I caress her cheek and join my lips to hers, but I only give her a kiss, I don’t invade her mouth as before. I just press on her mouth, to feel every strip of that silk. I keep my eyes open and I find out she does it too. She let herself be kissed, be caressed by my lips, but it's as if she were imposing on herself not to overcome a self-imposed barrier.
I try to be gentle, which is extremely complicated for me, I move my hand onto her united knees, put it in the middle inviting her to open her legs.
And she does. I can go further, I have her permission.
I place myself in the middle of her legs, the counter places her high up and extraordinarily in line with my excitement. When I lean on her, my skin feels a shock: it is an earthquake of the soul flowing into the muscle tissue, the veins, into my intimacy.
I caress her back and slide down to her hips. I pull her toward me and she rubs on me, her intimacy is looking for mine, in a movement that makes me go wild.
“Kiss me,” I whisper on her lips. “Kiss me and don’t close your eyes.”
Her nose caresses mine, her breath is everywhere, not just on my lips that crave the moment more than I’ve ever imagined.
I feel her lips join with mine, they are damp and trembling, but she doesn’t kiss me, she leaves them there, immobile, caressing.
“Kiss me, Ambra, kiss me!”
I wish she would take the initiative just once. I’d like to be what she wants, I can’t force her even now, I don’t think I must, because it would be awesome to know that she wants everything I want.
“Krum,” she groans on my mouth.
It seems to be an invitation and I push on her more, rubbing my erection on the specific spot she likes so much. I'm looking for the clitoris, I press there and I move by waving my hips, drawing imaginary circles and feeling her trembling in my arms. I've never seen a woman enjoying it as she is enjoying it, with so little, just feeling me, just being near me.
“Please, kiss me,” I implore her.
I cannot handle it anymore. More than fucking her, at the moment I desperately need to taste her mouth.
Her legs move up and wrap around my waist, just as I’d told her she used to do in her dreams. She pulls me and my forehead hits hers She's sighing and pulsating down there surprisingly.
“Krum,” she rubs her lips on my chin, moving up to my mouth, pulls out her tongue and… Fuck, I want to lay her on this counter and destroy her. “Is this what happens even in your dreams?” she asks, in a remarkably sensual way. Her tongue licks my lower lip, then, she entraps it between her teeth. I move on to her impulsively, I'm so hard I could break into her painfully. “Tell me,” she still wheezes. She licks her upper lip and I appeal to all my willpower to avoid being brutal. “Tell me what you dream?”
I stretch a finger out on her lips and whisper: “I dream about this mouth.”
“Where?”
“On me. Inside this mouth, I thrust…” and I press on her. “You suck it, you lick it, you want more and more. Your lips surround the tip, I rub it on your skin, you want it, you always want it.”
“And then?” her tongue quickly passes between my open lips. I'm about to bite, but she retracts quickly. She has malice printed on her face.
“And then I take you,” my palms hold tight on to her firm butt. “I penetrate you, slowly, but firmly, as I seek for your tits and kiss your nipples. You… then you…”
She taps my mouth with a finger. I am enchanted by this woman who is fucking my brain.
“Ambra…”
“Shh!”
She slips down from the shelf and puts a hand on my chest; she’ll realize I'm sweating and burning hot. She goes around me as if we changed our roles. She is the predator and I am hers.
I look at her, fascinated by her seductive motions, and when she opens her mouth, I pray that my body will remain motionless and won’t react.
“You're really silly,” she crosses her arms. “Dream whatever you want, they’ll be only dreams or unsatisfied desires. Did you really believe that I would let you do what you did in bed a little while ago?” she points to the door and orders. “Now get out of here, leave me alone and never try to touch me as you did today.”
“You're a damn bitch.”
My cock is still hard and I want to shove
it in that mouth to let her know who is the boss. But no, there are a thousand ways to make her understand that she cannot act like the prima donna with me. I step up and reach her, this time she doesn’t step back. She's so sure she has become my weak spot to think she has the power on her side.
Kurva. Whore.
“Get out, Krum.”
I lose my patience and grab the hair behind her head. I like to see that she isn’t afraid now and, instead, she wants to fight me.
“Tease me again and I’ll show you what I can do with my hands. But not in the way you think. If I want, I can make you cry out; I can make you beg me not to stop, I can make you shout my name, and know that I can. I can keep you with me as nobody has ever done. I can take you; I can own you and I get everything I want, and you'll find out that you belong to the one you've always hated while you stick in your head…” I put my lips on her forehead, “that I am all you want and that I can have you the way I want, as I pretend, as I desire”.
“You’ll never have me, Krum!”
I smile at her; mine is a strange annoyed smirk.
“I have you already, Ambra.”
I turn her around and hug her to my chest, I uncover her neck and put my lips on it, kissing the hollow up to the ear lobe. She's trembling, sighing, she likes it… just a stupid bitch!
When I come to her ear, I whisper clearly: “Ti vinagi si bila moya.”
“I would like the translation.”
“Sure?” I suck her ear lobe.
“Yes, Krum.”
Yes, Krum comes out like a sigh of pleasure.
“I said,” and suck the lobe again, “that you've always been mine. Deny it and I’ll show you're wrong.”
She gulps loudly. I'm glad to feel her ass on my cock, now under her control.
I wrap her bust with my arms, I crush her against me, I keep kissing her neck, noticing that she pants in such an exciting way. I like to feel her jerking in my arms.
“Now take a shower, get ready and in half an hour be ready for me.”
She turns her face looking for mine, her back is now perfectly stuck to my chest, I approach my forehead to hers and I kiss the tip of her nose.
“See you later, princess.”
And I leave her panting as I go out, hoping to put out the fire under a cold shower.
When I come back, at the agreed time, I hope to waste some time because I don’t want her to have breakfast with Manuel and the others. If she saw what I did to that bastard, She would see the animal I am.
I put the key into the lock and go in without announcing myself.
“You could knock every now and then,” she snorts, hurrying to button the blouse she is wearing. It has transparent sleeves; just the sleeves though; What a shame.
“You’re always late.”
“Well, sorry if I’m not dying to see you.”
I approach the bed and get the panties on it. They are very skimpy, in cream color lace. I’d like to put them in my pocket, but she tears them out of my hands.
“What do I have to do today? What are the plans?”
She stares scrupulously at what I am wearing. This morning I took care of my look, which isn’t usually important to me. I wear a black shirt and dark jeans, nothing special, but her eyes consider it differently.
“I'll take you around the villa and if you are good, I'll show you something unique.”
Her face is animated by a particular shine; it’s curiosity; it’s tranquility. Finally she doesn’t look upset. I pass a hand on my beard I’ve just shortened, she looks at me with burning eyes.
You are the one who thinks they are burning. She hates you.
As she tucks her shirt in her jeans, she surprises me saying: “You should put something on that hand. It’s swollen and will get worse.”
I flex my fingers and trap them in a fist, I actually have wounded knuckles, somewhat blackened and swollen. Manuel's teeth didn't fall out, but they left their mark, anyway. "Shall we go for a coffee and then put something on them?" I look at her confused. Does she want to take care of me?
“It's nothing,” I snort.
“Let's go anyway.”
“I don’t think so!”
She passes me and I follow her She waits for me at the door and, as usual, I pull out the key she wants so much, wave it under her eyes and then put it in the lock.
“You’ll give it to me sooner or later,” she says with a smart air.
“I wanted to give it to you in the bathroom, but you didn’t want it.”
“You're really disgusting!”
We go out into the hallway, but when I hear Manuel's voice, I pull her arm and drive her back into the room again.
I close the door and push her against it, covering her with my body and putting my ear onto the wood of the door, to hear better.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, realizing she hasn’t to speak loud. I hear steps in the corridor and Manuel complaining with someone on the phone. He is probably whimpering with the Father and asking for punishment for my behavior.
I don't give a shit.
“Krum,” she puts her hands on my abdomen and isn’t rejecting me, I keep listening through the door. “Hey,” Ambra wants my attention, resting her hand on my cheek.
I look at her and - without thinking - I put my lips on her forehead, planting a kiss on her, so delicate it hurts; Hurting me because I can’t go any further.
“I don’t want him to see you.”
“Who?”
Her hands on my abdomen are caressing me. I detest my shirt that is a barrier.
“Manuel.”
“Why?”
“’Cause he isn’t reliable.”
She raises an eyebrow, as if she was not accepting my explanation.
“Have you fought with him? Is that why your hand is injured?”
I wrap her hips with my hands and she lets me touch her. It's amazing to see how crazy, strange, undefinable we are. We fight, we detest and we insult each other, but, then, when we are close everything disappears. If it was so for the rest of my life, I would be… happy.
“Yes, I fought with him.”
“Why?”
“Our business.”
“Don’t you want to tell me?”
She rests her head on the door and pulls her chin up, I'm tempted to kiss her, I want to collapse on her and devour her.
“Would you like to talk about my own business?”
She shrugs and pouts. Okay, fuck… I touch her lips with my fingers.
“Stop it… we're talking,” she takes my fingers off her mouth.
“Me and you talking?” I say amused. “Don’t you think it's surreal?”
“Do you prefer yelling in my face and pulling my hair?”
I put my head near her and say on her lips: “Right, I prefer pulling your hair, but as I take you from behind and penetrate you deep down.”
“Okay, okay, that's enough!”
She ducks down and runs away passing under my arm. She gives me her shoulders, obviously embarrassed, then turns and asks me to go. I laugh. I have a stupid smile on my face. This woman, now, makes me laugh too. Her embarrassment is something spectacular. Her way of blushing, those hands touching her neck and massaging it, her open lips to release her sighs. Mine. Even her sighs are mine, for I am the one who creates them.
Me.
When we leave the room I am a bit more confident, I risk searching for her hand and find it.
I take it, hold it tight and she lets her fingers be intersected by mine.
“Let's set a rule,” she proposes. That's why she let me take her hand. She wants something. Sly.
“Tell me!”
“Promise me that you’ll answer all of my questions.”
I stop on the floor in front of her, but we don’t let go of each other.
“No, princess. I promise nothing.”
I feel my fingers slipping away and I apply force to hold her.
“Okay,” I consent, in order to
hold her hand. “What do you suggest in return?”
“You can ask me any questions and I'll do the same with you. One question for me and one for you,” she says as if it was enough. I mischievously smile.
“No, it doesn’t work that way,” I get near her and she raises her eyebrow with a challenge.
“Do you have something better to suggest?”
“I will answer all the questions you will ask me if you come with me to the wing of the five senses.”
She squints her eyes curiously, passes that damn tongue on her lips. I'm already imagining a thousand scenes where that tongue can do its real function. That is, to be all over my body.
“Okay,” she laughs.
I laugh happily. She has no idea what you can do in the wing of the five senses.
“Moya,” I say. Mine.
“What did you say?”
“Let's go,” I’m lying.
And she follows me, without leaving my hand.
20
AMBRA
If I let him hold my hand it is just to keep him under control. He's stupid if he thinks I need to be so close to him.
Liar!
I ignore the naughty voice in my head, I don’t like being a victim of my own thoughts. I realized that if I go along with Krum, I can avoid feeling the skin of my wrists burn and can keep all my hair on my head. If I only try to let go of his fingers, I’d feel him tighten even more, just because he tries to impose. I know perfectly well that he doesn’t care about me and that all he does is just to satisfy his whims. He wants everything and blah, blah, blah.
He wants me as you want another glass of champagne, or a new shirt to buy in a store. He’s only guided by the need to get what he wants and all because I deny myself to him. If I had given into him from the first day, of course, he’d have stopped playing with me right away. But he is that way, he needs to conquer his space, control his preys, dominate them inside and out.
And he succeeds.
If I recall the feelings I had experienced last night, sleeping on his warm chest, and this morning, quivering under him, I feel myself sinking into the abyss of shame. I had wished he would have made the bomb of desire explode inside. It was horrible to have to control myself in the bathroom while I was stimulating him. Unable to control myself while, I myself, was stimulated by him. I Was feigning. It was just to give him the coupe of grace at the right moment. Yet part of me was not acting, really giving into the desire to feel him on me, perfectly embedded in my body that. If it wasn’t for my stubbornness, he would have let go and he would have been able to do all those dirty things he says.
He wants it all Page 20