His Cruel Victory - Bonus POV - Faye Pierce

His Cruel Victory – Bonus POV

Emanuele

She is stubborn and, as much as the game of taming her thrills me and makes blood surge to my groin, I am mostly careful not to overstep.

Sometimes, I feel her resolve might make her not say anything until it is too late, so I have to watch out for her and me.

I let my eyes rake her naked pale-flushed body lying on the sea of black sheets, with her hands and legs cuffed to the bed posts. Her endearing kohl eyes won’t stop glaring at me, and she is chewing her lips like she wants to bite me instead.

“Have you learned your lesson?” I want her to admit to it so I can take care of her as I intended. I want to. I have put her through something tough, and I ache to balance my actions.

“Go to hell,” she exclaims and tilts her head so she is staring at my reflection through the mirror beside her.

“Suit yourself.” Damn, I hate her willfulness, but I have to live up to it.

“See you by morning,” she smirks.

I gulp, hating that I have to do this but knowing I must. I just handfed her and even that came with cussing and tantrums. I turn away from her and strut out of the bedroom, leaving the air thick with all the things I want to do to her. I slam the door behind me, but I stay planted beside it.

I know she is obstinate. But I cannot shake the fact that she does need me. That she might call for me and the last thing I want is for her to feel abandoned when she does.

I dip my hands in my pockets and lean gently on the door. Waiting. She has to call me. I want her to choose to be in my arms rather than cuffed all night to a bed. But a part of me wonders if she would prefer that.

I exhale sharply, and my stomach ties into knots, knowing I will stand here for the entire night without Vittoria calling for me. Or does she think I left her alone? Is she scared?

I go closer to the door, and my hand hovers on the doorknob. I retrieve it and shove it back into my pocket. I stop myself from pacing and try to get my mind to think of anything aside from the fact that her perseverance is both a trait I find attractive and, in cases like this, overbearing.

“Emanuele!” She calls out at last. It’s a little muffled, but I know she wants me to hear her.

I swing into action, twisting the doorknob and diving into the bedroom a little too fast.

Her eyes soften as she takes me in, and her lips twitch as if she is fighting to keep words from pouring out of her mouth. I want to ask her if she called me, but instead, I take cautious steps toward her and sit on the bed, never breaking the flow of our eyes.

“Let me go,” it’s more of a plea than anything snarky, “Please,” she adds and gulps.

“Have you learned your lesson?” I reach for a few strands of inky hair plastered on her face and brush them behind her ear. She drops her face to the side of my touch, closing her eyes as she melts, and I start to stroke her cheekbone.

“Yes,” she whispers, “Yes, I have learned my lesson,” my forefinger is lining her cheeks now and going for her lips, “I took my punishment well.”

“I want to take care of you, Vittoria,” I press the back of my forefinger on her lips, and she parts them to take my finger between her teeth. “Will you let me?” I am waiting for her to bite or do something to make all of this difficult, but instead, she sucks, screwing her eyes tighter and inhaling.

“Y…yes,” she gulps, “Yes, please do.”

I draw back, needing to do what is important first. I go from one post to the other, uncuffing her; all the while, her eyes stay shut, and her chest keeps rising and crashing as she breathes heavily and shakily. I trace my fingers along the bruise from her fighting when I uncuff her wrists.

“Done,” I announce. I turn to return to my initial position, and as I sit, she is up and crawling to me. She is so quick I almost get knocked off the bed. She wraps her arms around my waist and buries her face in my neck.

“I learned my lesson,” she pushes herself into me, “hold me.” She circles her arms in a way that allows her to hook her hand on my shoulder blade.

“Of course, baby girl,” I sheathe her, lifting her off the bed until she is sitting on my lap.

She is so small yet so full of will. So breakable in appearance but steel all the same.

One hand cups the back of her head while the other starts to draw lines down her spine, tracing ridges that I am beginning to memorize. She keeps pushing into me and breathing heavily into my neck. Warm breaths slipping into my pores and gathering in my loins. My perfect girl. But I want it to be her night. I want to give her what she needs.

She probably senses that as she lifts her face to look me in the eyes. Up close like this, her eyes are the same, if not darker, than her hair. They are innocent and pleading as they drop to my lips, and she drags in another long breath, hollowing her neck dip. Before she lifts them back up to plead again for a kiss, I plaster my lips to hers.

She exhales into my mouth and pinches down on my shoulder blades, pressing her body in a way that suggests she wants to crawl into my skin. Like the arms I now have around her are not enough.

My tongue searches her mouth, and she suckles, pouring her moan into me. I reach for the base, wanting to feel the vibration of every syllable that my tongue won’t allow her to utter.

Her mouth is warm, soft, and wet. It reminds me of her pussy but without the salty taste. And now it is what I want. What I crave.

I slow the kiss but don’t stop as I lower her on the bed. As she lays flat on the mattress, I break the kiss. Eyes glossy and face heated. My eyes drop to her swollen lips, and she inhales like they burn. I am wondering how swollen her pussy is right now. I’m picturing pink tenderness oiled for me. It makes my cock tick, but I ignore it. This is for her.

“Open up,” I order, and she opens her legs, blessing my sight with her pink, wet, creamy pussy. I growl, biting down on my teeth to wrap an invisible leash of restraint around my neck, “I want to eat you up. I want to have you for dessert.” She responds with a sharp intake of air. “Tonight, I want to feel your thighs squeeze my head as you orgasm into my face,” my forefinger begins to drag from her knee to her inner thigh. Her legs start to shake visibly, and she swallows nervously, her entire body trembling under me .

I trace my finger until it reaches the lips of her pussy, and I swirl it on her clit.

“Oh, God,” she breathes.

“It’s me, not God,” I swirl my finger again.

“Emanuele,” she scrapes her nails on the sheets, wanting to grab something.

“You have one duty tonight, baby girl,” I slip my forefinger in and pull it out, “I will do the work, you just come on my tongue,” and without wasting time, I signal for her to go further up on the mattress.

As soon as she is in the position I want her, I lower myself and bury my face between her legs.

“Oh,” she is breathless, and I feel her pussy contract against my lips. I kiss her there. Then I start to brush her clit with my beard in teasing circular strokes. “Oh,” her legs quaver, mirroring her voice.

With both hands gripping her thighs to keep them apart, I let my tongue out. Swiping and circling. Sucking and tenderly grating. It’s satisfying and gratifying. To render this service to her and just have her take it the way she is taking it now. It’s taking me everything not to come in my pants. Which is definitely going to happen if we keep going like this.

I slide my tongue into her pussy, digging deeper. She tastes good. She smells good. She feels good.

She moans loudly, and her hand comes to grip my hair, while the other keeps scratching the bed sheet.

“Yes,” she groans, “Daddy, yes,” she twists her hips, fucking my tongue.

I pull it out and continue to swipe and circle from her slit to her clit, narrowing my mouth to suck, then rinse and repeat. This time firmer, and it’s partly because of the way she is pulling my hair and how she is now twisting and grinding against my tongue.

With one hand, I let go of her leg and go palm her pussy. I use my fingers to open her fold, and because I know the pain is as necessary as the pleasure for her, I nib, then suck hard on her clit.

It’s her undoing.

She screams, rocking into me faster, and then I feel her quivering with each swinging move. Her body is thrumming, and she is screaming now. Her grip on my hair turns feral. I keep sucking as she rocks herself to climax. Convulsing and sputtering.

Her hips lift from the mattress, locking my head between her legs with her thighs, and then she crashes back into it. I savor her cum, cleaning her deliciousness up. My sweet baby girl.

She lets go of my hair, and I rip my face from her pussy to stare at her. She smiles faintly, then covers her face with both her palms. It’s the first time I’ve seen her shy, and it is… adorable.

“Thank you,” she mumbles into her hands, and I can’t keep my smile in.

“Come here.” She turns to the side instead and then presses her face into the mattress, “Am I the first guy to ever eat your pussy, baby girl?” Some animalistic and possessive part of me wants me to be.

“Yes,” she exhales, then crawls to me, but not to sit on my lap. She drops her head on my lap instead and circles her arms around my waist, “Don’t flatter yourself, although you were not so bad.”

I chuckle.

Her sassiness is so damn attractive.