Page 33 of Brutal Revenge

Minutes later, Azra’s fingernails dig into my skull, and her thrusting hips still. Her shoulder blades meet as my name spills from her kiss-swollen lips in a wanton cry. It’s such a hungry, carnal sound that before I can remember I don’t keep condoms in my room, the requirement unnecessary since I’ve never brought another woman here, I climb up her body, removing her nightie on the way, and then nestle my dick between her legs.

I gaze down at the erotic image of her flushed cheeks and pert tits and watch for the fear I expect to filter through her eyes as I spread her with my fingers.

It doesn’t come. Not when I pierce the head of my cock through her opening, and not when I ask if she’s on birth control.

The only time fear filters in her eyes is when I push past the protective barrier keeping her on the ledger of every sick fuck this side of the nation.

I’m barely three inches in but deeply seated enough to remove virgin from her dossier.

“Keep your eyes on me,la mia tigrotta. It’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

I have absolutely no idea if anything I’m saying is true. I’ve never had sex with a virgin before—not even when I was one. I didn’t want to step anyone through their first time. I was there to get off, not conduct an anatomy class.

I’d be dishonest to say I wasn’t relishing every second of our exchange.

“You just need to trust that I won’t hurt you.”

My balls pull in close as the tight walls of her vagina relax, and she welcomes me in more. I could come now, her trust so evoking, but I hold back, focused on making this pleasurable for her.

One hand lifts her hips off the mattress, tilting them to the perfect height for maximum pleasure, while the other runs down the inside of her thigh.

Her groan once I circle her clit with my thumb is closer to a moan than a sob, and it clears up a handful of tears her eyes are threatening to spill.

I squeeze her clit until speech becomes impossible, and then I ram my hips forward.

“Matteo…”

After several painful seconds, the gleam in her eyes grants me permission to pull out. I withdraw only to the tip before stuffing my cock back inside. She can’t take all of me. I’m barely halfway in, but it feels amazing. The slickness of multiple orgasms coats my shaft, along with the faint red coloring of her virginity.

“You’re so fucking sexy like this. Drenched and spread out for me.”

Azra rocks against me, meeting each grind, moaning and panting as the sparks of a fresh orgasm filter across her beautiful face.

“Matteo…” she moans again, her hips circling. “Wake up.”

I peer down at her, lost by her last two words.

Leaning down, I capture her mouth in mine and kiss her roughly. Perhaps if she tastes herself on my lips as I pound into her, she’ll realize she’s not dreaming.

This is as real as it gets, and it’s fucking amazing.

“Matteo… wake up!”

This time, Azra doesn’t circle her hips. She flattens her hand on my chest and gently shakes me.

I only shake my head for half a second to loosen my confusion, but it changes everything. Azra is no longer below me. She hovers above me, and instead of her eyes being filled with lust, they’re crammed with worry.

“You were having a nightmare,” she murmurs, peering down at me, fully clothed. “You were grunting and…” She runs her hand over my forehead, gathering multiple beads of sweat. “You’re sticky and clammy.” I hate the worry in her eyes. “Do you normally have nightmares?”

“No.” I push back, flattening against the pillow fort still wedged between our sleeping zones. It’s so high she must have clambered around the bed to comfort me. “I wasn’t having a nightmare. I was…”

I can’t say it.

I refuse.

I’m thirty-fucking-three years old.

I donothave wet dreams—especially not ones that portray me as a sentimental schmuck.