Fragile Longing

Fear pulsed through me, but I couldn’t back off now. I didn’t want to. This anger was so close to passion. I hungered for more.

“Won’t you take what’s yours?” I said, hoping Danilo couldn’t hear the tremor in my voice.

His smile was harsh. “Not as long as you look at me like that,” he growled.

Like what?

“Aren’t you a man who takes what he wants?”

Danilo pulled me even closer until our chests were pressed against each other. His heart was pounding even harder than mine, and it felt good to know this controlled man could be unhinged so easily by a few words from stupid, naïve me. His grip was tight but not painful. “What are you doing, Sofia?”

His voice was drenched with warning and his eyes burned me with their intensity. I felt his emotions in every fiber of my body, and even if they weren’t the emotions I wanted, I drank them in hungrily. But I could see his anger waning, his fingers loosening.

“Maybe you need me to put on a blonde wig like last time. Maybe then you can finish what you started at the party.”

His grip tightened. “Taking you up against that tree. Blinded by anger. That’s not what I promised your family, not what I promised myself.”

I swallowed. I was losing him, his fury, his passionate hatred, and I didn’t want that. I could see myself getting drunk on his fiery hatred, could see myself pretending it was angry lust. I wanted something, anything. I wanted to feel like I had some kind of power over him, even if it was only over his anger.

“Remo took what he wanted, and he got everything. He laughed in your face and you let him,” I bit out.

Danilo didn’t let me finish. He shoved me back, and I landed on the bed, then he climbed on top of me. “Is that what you want? To be fucked in anger? Wasn’t last time enough? Is that what you want?”

His body pressed me down and even through the fabric of my nightgown I could feel his growing erection. “Is that what you want?” he snarled. His eyes were wild with anger, but pain lurked in their depths. Was this hurting him as much as it hurt me?

My chest constricted with unease. I wanted lovemaking and a beautiful fairytale. I was too old to believe in the latter, too realistic to hope for the former.

Some of the anger drained from his expression, regret passing his face and he began to push himself off me. My nails dug into the expensive material of his shirt, wishing it was his skin, desperate to draw blood and give him some of my pain.

I didn’t want him to pull away. I wanted Danilo. I wanted some part of him. Anything. “Remo will always win because he takes what he wants without regard for anyone. He took Fina. Her heart. Her virginity. He took everything.”

Danilo loomed over me, the anger slamming back into place, his breathing becoming louder. “Stop mentioning his name, Sofia.”

“Why? Because he got what you wanted, and now you’re left with someone you don’t want? Someone you don’t even want to touch, much less fuck.” The word burned my tongue and I had to stop myself from grimacing. It wasn’t a word I’d used before. It felt wrong in my mouth.

Danilo shook his head, his body pressing harder into me.

“Take me before someone else does,” I whispered harshly. It was a ridiculous thing to say. No one would touch me, not with Danilo’s safety measures regarding me, but it cut into the wound Remo’s attack had left, opening it up again.

Danilo’s lips came down on mine, but I turned my head away, not wanting a kiss full of anger. My first kiss would be romantic and beautiful, even if that meant it would never happen. He breathed harshly into my ears. “You don’t want this.”

“I do! Don’t pretend you know what I want. Just do your duty and fuck your wife. I bet that’s what Remo’s doing now.”

He growled and I could see his control snapping, his fury bursting forth. I doubted it was directed at me, but I could pretend it was. He tore at his belt and pants until they fell open. I didn’t look, scared I’d lose my courage if I did. I only focused on his face, on the beautiful mask of rage, at the fire in his eyes that almost looked like passion if I didn’t look too closely.

Anger and passion were very similar, I realized then. He didn’t bother to remove his shirt or pants before his hands reached under my nightgown and tugged my panties down. He moved his head lower as if he wanted to kiss me between my legs, but I didn’t want that. I didn’t want any kind of tenderness or affection because it wasn’t the real deal. Not like his anger. That was the only honest emotion Danilo could offer me, and I’d soak it up like a sponge.