RUINED ALREADY [18+]

Twenty-Five

♦Penelope♦

"What's wrong?" I asked.
"The guy who embezzled money from my company escaped the wearhouse."
"Wearhouse?" I asked surprised. "Where else would I have locked him up?" He looked at me as though I'd just asked a stupid question. In his world and lifestyle it probably was.
"They're looking for him now. He couldn't gave gotten far."

I needed to remind myself that this wasn't a fairytale. Was it even a relationship? I'd lost touch with the world and its operations for such a long time I didn't even understand how these things worked anymore.

I needed Emilio but I also needed to know more about him. I put  away the medical supplies and washed my hand.
"Are you hungry? I can make you dinner? That's if you're staying."
He gazed at me for a long time as he undid his fly.
"I'm definitely staying, querida. I need to clear my head."
"Please don't get your wounds wet."
"Yes, madam."

As I left him in the bathroom I heard the shower running. I grabbed a few things from my drawer and went to take s warm shower myself in my parents bathroom.

Mom's portrait smiled down at me from the wall as I walked to the bathroom. As sense of nostalgia washes over me. I'd lost everyone of my family members and all of them had died a painful death.

First it was my mother, cancer, then my brother, Nikolai, fire and then my dad, heart attack. It left me worrying if I would die a painful death, too. Would death come on a dark horse wielding a fiery sword like I'd always dreamt as child? Would it be peaceful?
A

s I washed my skin I pushed the thought at the darkest part of my mind.
After my shower I reluctantly cleaned the mess Brad had left behind before going to the kitchen. I stood before the open fridge wondering what Emilio liked to eat and decided on spaghetti. Everyone liked pasta, right?

I yelped when his hands grasped my hips and his lips whispered against my neck.

"Relax," he whispered.
I sagged against as he bit the skin. The sensation radiated all the way to my core and a tingling sensation began.

"What would-" I cried out when his teeth grazed against my throbbing pulse "-you like to eat?" I managed to finish, fighting to ignore the sensations spiraling through me.

"I'd love to eat you," he said gruffly.

Gripping a handful of my hair he tilted my head back and sealed his mouth over mine for a ravenous kiss. With his free hand he cupped one breast and pinched the nipple between his fingers before releasing it and raking down my body to the hem of my dress.

His fingers pushed into my panties to find my core. His fingers hovered over my clit and I fell against him. His erection was scorching at the small of my back.

My stomach tightened as his fingers increased in speed and the throbbing sensation grew stronger. I felt my arousal rush, wetting his fingers. My kegs trembled and I rolled my hips against his demanding fingers. I could feel my orgasm threatening and I gripped his wrist, urging him.
"Don't come until I say you can, Penelope," he growled.

"Spread you legs wider for me," he commanded.
I did and his fingers played me like the strings of a guitar, slow and sensual until my mind went hazy and my lust fuel.

Pressing his thump to my clit he skillfully inserted two long fingers slow and deep.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" he snarled. "I want you beneath me soon, Quierda. I need to Burty myself inside you. Tell me you want that, too. Tell me how much your sweet, tight little pussy weeps for my cock."

"Yes," I mewl. "It does."
His words were dirty and filled my head with images of him taking me hard and fast. His fingers thrusted harder and deeper, encouraging my need.

"Come for me Penelope."

I exploded all over his hand. My body went languid against his. He withdrew him hand from my panties and brought them to my lips.
"Taste yourself. See why you drive me mad."
My tongue swirled around his fingers and he pushed them further into my mouth.

"You're s naughty girl, Querida. You should be rewarded for your naughtiness," he chuckled.

Rewarded? I thought that had been my reward.
He spun me around in his arms and kissed me gently. His cock was still straining between us.
"What about you?" I whispered.
His smile was sinful. "You aren't ready to get on your knees, little bird."
I gasped. How could he be do sexy and crude at the same time?

"I'm not a tit for tat kind of man. When the time comes I'll truly enjoy you, sweet Penelope. All of you and the part between your legs even more. And pasta does sound good for dinner."

He gave me a chase kiss and left me speechless. But I didn't miss the dark spot in his grey suit pants as he went for the stairwell.

When I climbed into bed that night Emilio was already semi-conscious.
"I thought I would have to come get you," he drawled sleepily.
As I snuggled up closer to him I traced the contours of his face. When u arrived at his full lips his licked my finger tips with s quick swipe of his tongue.

"Dessert was delicious tonight, thank you."
I felt the heat crawling up my neck. Dessert meant me, not the chocolate he'd brought for me earlier with the flowers before he pounced on Brad.

I didn't think a man's appetite for pleasuring a woman could be so...real for lack of a better word. Most men I came into contact with only cared if they could orgasm.

Tattoos peeked at the top of his v-neck white shirt.
"You know we should talk about us, if there is an us," I began. "This is embarrassing but how old are you? Do you resemble your mother or father?"
His eyes flew open at my last question.
"I'm guessing your father."
"My father is not up for discussion," he said coldly.
My mouth dropped open. "I'm not- why not?"
He shifted so fast, moving on top of me so I was forced onto my back beneath him.
"Because," he raped darkly, "he's s filthy son of a bitch who when I see him again I will empty my bullets unto his head just like he did to my mother."
The breath was sucked from my lungs instantly both at his deadly promise for vengeance and the casual ease at which he enunciated each word.

"Unfortunately, I look like. Everything about me is a carbon copy of my father."

"Oh."
I didn't know his to respond to that. It wasn't everyday a man confided such dark things to me.
"As for my age. I'm thirty-three."
"You're old," I quipped trying to lightened the mood.
"Is that his you truly feel, my sweet?" His lips formed a smile but I could see the wickedness glaring in his eyes.
"Yes."
"Old men don't give orgasms."
"But some do," I countered.
He stated down me. Reaching below he captured both my wrists in one hand and brought them over my head.

"You have beautiful skin, Penelope. Soft to the touch. I wonder how these wrists will look straining against silk ropes."
My heart thumped against my chest ad the visual. Emilio possessed the power to make macrabe things appealing and sexual.

"You'd be bare and begging me to take you. Do you like that image? I think you do. Those wrists will bleed as you pulled too hard as I fuck you."

Damn him to hell. I was wet.
A man wanting me to bleed should not have been appealing but it was.
All too soon hr rolled off me and pulled me close, leaving me wet and frustrated.
"Sweet dreams, little bird."

I woke up to the sounds of braking dogs and an empty bed.
"Emilio?"
He came into the room, a dark silhouette, with a steaming cup.
"Go back to sleep, Quierda," he hummed. "There's something I must attend to."
His lips were featherlight over mine as I was swept up into the dark abyss once more.