Keeping his bride

Aria

I CAN BARELY breathe. Sucking a full breath into my lungs is too daunting of a task at the moment while my senses and my mind play tricks on me. I’m barely aware that Mateo is leading me somewhere. My feet are moving of their own accord. I’m too caught up in my own head to even focus on my surroundings. The thunderous music is doing a number on me, taking me back to that fateful night when Constantine Carbone and his men took me, changing my life forever.

I’m numb as to what’s going on around me until I hear Mateo’s deep voice tell me, “Look down.”

My breath catches in my throat as I glance down through the glass floor, a sea of people twenty feet below us, dancing and moving with the music. My head snaps up, and I realize the entire room we’re in is made of glass, a three-hundred-sixty view of the club with floor-to-ceiling concave glass windows.

I go to step back, but Mateo pins my front against the railing. His large hands envelop mine and place them on the cold, metal bars on either side of me. “Don’t let go,” he tells me. “There will be consequences if you let go, Aria,” he warns. “Do you understand?”

I give him a shaky nod, my grip tightening on the railing.

He disappears behind me, and I struggle to pull air into my lungs. My panic attack had come on so quickly that I barely had time to register what was happening until I was already locked in the bathroom and huddled in the corner. Mateo’s henchman banging on the door didn’t help matters, only making my anxiety-riddled mind think that Constantine really was coming for me.

My breathing begins to pick up again when I think about it, but then I hear Mateo tsking behind me.

“No thinking, carino. Just allow yourself to feel. Focus only on that,” he commands as his hands possessively grasp my hips.

I slowly nod and lick my lips, forcing myself to do what he told me. Focus on feeling.

“Close your eyes,” he says, and I do.

His hands slowly move from my hips down to my knees. And then I feel him wrap his hands around my trembling thighs. His calloused fingers trail up under the hem of my dress, lifting it ever so slowly until I’m completely exposed to him.

I gasp when Mateo grips my thong in between his fingers. He pulls the material taut, and my hands squeeze the metal bars as the rough fabric grazes against my clit. I shudder at the feeling, my legs trembling in nervous anticipation. I know I should tell him to stop; but for some reason, I can’t. My mouth opens, but no words come out.

Mateo maneuvers the cloth, allowing it to gently saw between my lips, teasing my aching little nub until it’s driving me insane with want and need. My hands ache as I grip the railing harder, desperately trying not to cry out.

“I can smell your arousal, Aria,” Mateo rasps.

A surge of heat rushes to my core, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from moaning. Oh god, this is wrong. So wrong. And I feel like I’m being torn in two. The rational part of my brain is telling me that I shouldn’t be doing this. But then there’s another part of me that wants him to keep going, to drive me over the edge and never look back.

“Do you want more, my little captive?” he asks, his voice deep and raw.

I want to scream out yes, but I resist the urge and stay quiet. If I don’t answer him, I can pretend that I’m not a willing participant; that I don’t actually want this…even if my body is silently begging for it.

Mateo releases my thong, and I almost cry out in frustration. But then I feel him grip the strings and pull the thong down my legs until they fall to the floor around my ankles, a rush of cold air running over my now bare skin.

He lifts my feet, one at a time, until I step out of my panties. And then I hear a deep hum of approval. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me. Such a good girl,” he praises me.

And, oh god, why do those words coming from his filthy mouth turn me on so much?

He runs his fingertip from my clit up to my ass, and it takes everything in me to stay quiet. I don’t want him to know how much I want this. I don’t even want to know. I shake my head, trying to convince myself to tell him to stop, to not let this happen. But for some reason, I want it to happen. I want him to touch me. I want him to make me come.

Mateo takes a step back, and I think for a moment that he’s done with me. Maybe this was his plan all along – to tease me just enough to distract me from my panic attack. But when I open my eyes and glance over my shoulder, I see Mateo dropping to his knees behind me. And I realize he’s not done with me. He’s just getting started. Seeing him on his knees does something to me. I’m sure Mateo has brought many men to their knees in war, but I’m sure no one has ever brought him to his own.

But I just did.

And the very thought makes me feel powerful.

His fingers gently part my lips before his tongue touches my clit. The very first lick has my knees threatening to buckle. Oh god, it feels good. Why does it feel so good?

I don’t even get to think about that before Mateo presses his face against my center and begins feasting on me, his tongue lashing my clit with ravenous strokes, causing me to cry out. My clit throbs against his tongue while I desperately cling to the metal bars in front of me.

“Does this feel good, Aria?” he asks me, his voice a guttural whisper.

Again, I refuse to answer. Instead, I moan loudly, my eyes rolling back in my head as his tongue swirls around my throbbing clit.

A sudden slap on my pussy has me coming back to reality. “I need your words, Aria,” he demands. “Tell me to stop, and I will. You hold all the power here.”

I hold all the power? I’ve never felt more powerless in my entire life. But then I realize I can tell him to stop, and all of this would end. I open my mouth to say it, but the words won’t come out. A frustrated sob escapes my lips instead. I don’t want this to feel good. I don’t want him to make me feel good. And yet I don’t tell him to stop. I can’t.

There’s a fine line between wanting to keep my dignity and wanting to continue taking all the pleasure he’s giving me. Slowly, I feel myself falling over the edge of the line until I’m begging him for more. “Don’t…don’t stop,” I plead shamelessly.

He hums in approval, and I can feel the vibration against my flesh. And then his tongue assaults my clit as his thick finger teases my entrance, causing every nerve in my body to awaken at his adept ministrations.

“If anyone would look up right now, they would see your dripping, wet cunt,” he breathes against my thigh.

My head falls forward, and my lungs suddenly seize as I stare down at the crowd below us. Anyone could glance up here at any moment and see us; see what Mateo is doing to me. That should be enough to turn me off and tell him to stop all of this. But why does it seem to have the opposite effect? Why is it turning me on?

Before I can even question that…or my sanity, Mateo groans, “Fuck, I’m addicted to your sweet nectar, carino.” He dips his finger into my entrance, testing me, teasing me. “Tell me, Aria. Have you ever done this? Has anyone ever tasted you before?” he asks.

I know I should lie. I know I should tell him that it’s happened at least once or multiple times. But for some reason, I end up telling him the truth. “No,” I admit.

His tongue slides against my clit, a low, possessive growl slipping past his lips and vibrating against my center as he licks me, making me groan loudly. I no longer care about hiding my pleasure from him. I’m too far gone.

“I’m going to be tasting you on my tongue for weeks,” he confesses.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

I shudder at his dirty words and moan in desperation. I can feel my pending orgasm curling low in my stomach, but I’m scared to go over the edge. I’m scared for what it means for me, for him, for us.

My legs begin trembling uncontrollably as I reach the precipice. A hazy wave of lust courses through my veins as his tongue flicks back and forth over my clit.

“Please!” I beg, not even knowing what I’m truly asking for.

“Come for me, Aria,” Mateo demands before he presses his mouth on my exposed sex and tortures my clit with rhythmic circles.

I cry out my captor’s name as the orgasm is ripped from my body, shattering me and leaving me completely and utterly destroyed. Mateo’s strong hands hold me up when my knees give out, and he continues to lick me until I’m a quivering mess in his arms.

I feel like I’ve just gone to space and touched the surface of the sun. I’m burning up and struggling to find enough oxygen to fill my lungs. I cling to the railing, trying to catch my breath. Mateo’s tongue gives my clit a few lazy licks, causing me to shudder, before he finally stands. Then, he surprises me by carefully fixing my thong and the back of my dress. I wouldn’t think he’d care about that considering he just made me flash my vagina to a few hundred people below us.

I can hear his cell phone buzzing, and then he informs me, “We need to go, corazon.”

I take an unsteady step and clutch the rail. My legs feel like jelly. “I don’t know if I can walk,” I confess as a blush creeps up my neck.

“I could always carry you,” he offers with a smirk.

Shaking my head, I straighten my back and glare at him.

“Ah, so you’re back to hating me,” Mateo says with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I’ll be waiting downstairs for you then,” he tells me before turning and walking away.

Reluctantly, I follow him down the stairs, the music growing louder with every step I take. Only, this time, I don’t feel the panic trying to snake its way inside of my chest with every drop of the bass. I guess Mateo’s little stunt upstairs did work even though I hate him a little more because of it.

My first orgasm was given to me by my captor, a man who bought me at an auction. And it was in a public place. But even more than that, what if this completely changes the dynamic of our relationship?

No, I won’t let it, I decide right then and there.

If Mateo thinks I’ll give in to him so easily again, he’s got another thing coming. I won’t let my body override my brain next time. I need to keep a safe distance from him and not let his talented fingers…or tongue near me again.

When we reach the bottom of the stairs, I glance back up to the VIP room where we just were. I see the glass encased room we were in, but then I realize the glass is reflective and not see-through. There was never a threat of anyone looking up and seeing me even though Mateo led me to believe there was.

He protected me. Once again.