Page 8 of Vicious Secrets
Idon’tshockeasily.
But now, I’m questioning if my typically unwaveringly strong stomach and numbness are not a part of my personality and nothing more than a shitty coping mechanism.
The bride test, as what’s about to happen to me is called, is downright scandalizing, insulting, and fucking weird.
And the whole thing happens in my stepfather’s office. On his desk. A disgusting part of an already questionable-at-best tradition. At least Oscar won’t be in the room with us.
A quiet voice in my head is grateful for Lorena’s warning and Siro’s visit.
Sitting on the front of the desk, facing the door with my gaze on the floor, knees crossed and thighs tense, I wait for my future husband to enter the room and start the pomp and circumstance of... eating my pussy.
What. The. Fuck.
The door opens so softly that I don’t hear it. Instead, I see it out of the corner of my eye, lifting my head just in time to watch as Siro closes it behind him. My heart leaps into my throat as his dark gaze drifts over me.
A question about his arm tickles my tongue, but I’m not supposed to talk. Just sit here and have a man I’ve met once lick me between my legs. God, I hope the other women of the mafia get more preparation than I did.
Siro crosses the room in three long steps, wearing a suit similar to the one I last saw him in. He looks like a stereotype—all muscles, anger, and expensive fabric. There’s no mistaking he’s a made man.
He stops by my knees and holds our gaze.
From this point on, Siro’s in control. I lie back flat and squirm in an attempt to find a comfortable position on the solid, cold surface. Siro disappears out of view and returns with a throw pillow. One giant hand slides under the base of my skull to lift my head.
His tattooed fingers spread out to touch all of my pressure points as if on instinct. The grip doesn’t hurt, but it’s not gentle. More mechanical. With the pillow under my head, I smile softly and mouth a“thank you.”
Siro’s look of indifference doesn’t break. It’s an odd expression for a man about to perform oral sex. As he steps back into place between my legs, I reach down and pull my skirt up to my waist. A thrill rolls over me as I watch his eyes roam over my body.
A twisted part of this situation is insanely sexy. A scary, powerful man is about to force oral sex on me.Yes, please!
After the initial shock wore off this week, my mind spent days bouncing between nervousness and lust. The only thing that would make this better is if Siro wanted me. If he desired to eat me out so badly, he pinned me down and forced his head between my legs.
I’m disturbed by my reactions and thoughts. Consensual nonconsent isn’t my kink… but maybe it is when it comes to oral.
Siro kneels, his palms pressing on my inner thighs, spreading my legs wider. The room’s cold ambient air hits my flushed skin, threatening to draw a whimper out of me. I slap a hand over my mouth to silence myself.
“Take the hand away, Robyn,” he whispers against my mons.
I do as he says and tilt my chin to look down at him, cocking an eyebrow. Siro’s lips hover over my clit. He watches me. His eyes are dark with desire, but the rest of what I can see of him... is not?
The hands on my thighs more so rest on me than touch me. His breath is sharp and short, mouth relaxed. Is he nervous?
“Part of our secret.” His head tilts, his lips ghost over my labia and send a shiver rolling over me.
I nod, practically grinding the back of my head against the pillow. Questions tingle my tongue. Something tells me the tradition’s no-talking rule is regularly broken.
It dawns on me I don’t know what he’s supposed to be testing. The whole thing sounds like an excuse to eat pussy before the wedding with an undercurrent of being a virginity check.
Siro’s tongue darts out, lapping a quick stripe over my labia. He repeats the stroke, going slower and probing at my pussy. The tip of his tongue presses into my entrance just enough to tease me before popping out and moving upward.
I moan, throwing my head back as he licks and spreads me with his tongue. My legs quiver under his soft touch. Such a fucking tease. The bastard repeats the motion again and again. Lapping at me without touching my aching clit and penetrating me every few strokes. I’m on the verge of screaming and not from pleasure but from frustration.
“Please, Siro. Please, fuck me with your tongue.” My voice shakes. My dry lips sting. I pray that not only will he not be offended, but he’ll listen.
Siro pauses and pulls away from me. His hands slide up my thighs, thumbs pressing into my outer labia and holding me spread open. I whimper, wishing I’d asked him to finger me instead.
The smooth muscle of his tongue pushes inside me in one brutal stroke, knocking the air from my lungs. Siro fucks me with aggressive thrusts like he’s making it clear I belong to him. My hips grind against his face, and moans break free of my mouth.
I don’t want him to stop, but I’m done for. I won’t last long, regardless, and if my clit doesn’t get in on the action soon, I might explode.
