Entrapment (Morelli Family 7.5)

Not that this is a relationship, obviously. This is only supposed to be a practice in manipulation. Strangely enough, I didn’t think I would have to worry about either of us liking the other. The rape should have been enough to put her off, and her innocence should bore me to tears.

It doesn’t, though.

I’m not sure why.

For once, I don’t feel like thinking. I just want to enjoy her. So, even though she’s asleep, I shift her weight and tilt her face back, leaning in to brush my lips against hers. Like a cursed princess from a fairy tale, her eyes flutter open.

Well, if a kiss from the villain woke up the princess. According to Isabella’s story books, that’s not how that usually works.

She offers me a sleepy smile and I brush my lips across hers again, and again, and again. Finally, I break away from her lips and roll her onto her back, moving in to kiss her neck. In anticipation of my ravenous mouth on her sensitive skin, a sigh drifts from Mia’s mouth and goes straight through my veins. I don’t know what it is about every noise she makes that sets me on fire. I’ve never been a stingy lover, certainly, but ordinarily it doesn’t excite me this much to hear the evidence of a woman’s pleasure. Her pleasure matters to me, and I don’t know why.

Since she’s still drowsy from sleep, her defenses are down, her instincts relaxed. For just a moment, she forgets that she’s not supposed to want me and her arms go around me like I’m her lover. She pulls me close, her body arching, her soft skin brushing mine. Desire surges even harder through my veins. Her touch, freely given, is intoxicating. Her fingers skim the muscular surface of my back. Faint moans drift from her soft lips. For this moment, she is really mine.

But then she remembers where she is. Who I am. What I’ve done. Her arms fall. Her interest drops off. It aggravates me. She gave me a hit and then yanked the supply. I want it back.

“Put them back,” I murmur roughly.

“What?” she asks, her voice hoarse from sleep.

“Put your arms around me.”

She hesitates a moment and her brow furrows faintly, but she ultimately obeys. Even though she doesn’t, she holds onto me like she wants to.

Even if she required a little nudge, there’s something softer in her this morning. It’s certainly not the first morning she’s awoken to my ministrations, but it is the first morning it’s felt like she’s giving to me instead of I’m taking.

Her legs open for me without prompting this time. My hand slides up her smooth thigh and between her legs; her head falls back with a sigh of pleasure.

Something’s different this time. There’s an energy that wasn’t there before. Her energy.

She wants me to touch her.

A slide a finger inside her and she moans my name.

Oh, fuck.

I push deeper, her arousal making the passage easy, as I claim her lips. She kisses me back, clutching me against her body desperately, like she needs me. Like she’ll die if I stop.

Jesus Christ.

Is this what consensual sex with Mia is like? How does Vince ever let her out of his room?

How did Vince, rather. Fucking idiot.

I don’t really want to think about him while I have my finger inside his girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—so I drop that thought and dive back into the ocean of Mia. She makes it pretty easy to get pulled back under. Now her hips rock forward against my hand, wanting more. I push a second finger inside her and she gasps, grabbing my hair and pulling me back in for a kiss.

“More,” she whispers against my lips.

I might give her my house if she asked like that. All desperate and sweet, holding onto me like she needs what only I can give her.

I plunge my fingers deeper, harder, watching her face. Her eyes are closed. She wants my touch, but she can’t entirely face it. She wants more, but she’s ashamed to ask for it.

I want to make her come, but I don’t know if she’s ready. Watching her face, soaking up every pleasurable noise that escapes her as she moves restlessly, I adjust my focus, drawing from the pool of her arousal and spreading it as my fingers move to her sensitive clit.

Her body jolts and she gasps, surprised. Clutching my left bicep, she pushes her head back into the pillow and emits a string of moans before her grip on my arm tightens.

“Mateo, please. Don’t make me come.”

I continue my ministrations, paying close attention to her body’s cues. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice edges on desperate. She’s afraid I won’t listen to her.

Not an outrageous concern, I guess.

“Please,” she says again, now trying to move her hips away from the pleasure instead of toward it. “I’m not there yet. I’m trying, but I can’t—I don’t want…”