Chapter Four

Arianna gasped at the coldness of the sheets when he lowered her down the middle of the bed, successfully managing to navigate the stairs without dropping her and finding the bedroom.

She closed her eyes.

In the room, there was nowhere to hide. A window on another side of the house was open and moonlight bathed that corner where his bed was located. She didn’t want to see everything he would do to her, thinking it would be easier this way. She was even surprised she didn't feel scared anymore.

Oh, her heart was still thumping so fast! But the panic was due to not knowing what was going to happen next, or if it would hurt too much—or if she could even survive that big thing he toss around between his thighs like a knife! 

She realized her fear went away as soon as she recognized him. She didn’t know why she was certain he would not deliberately hurt her. That after it was all done, she would go home with all her pieces intact except for her hymen. The Quirozes were strict but fair. Don Sylverio could get grumpy, but he was mostly jovial and very approachable, helpful and humane. Surely, he couldn't have produced a monster?

Señorito Enrique, though, had other plans.

She felt the movement in the bed as he lay beside her.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice almost a whisper but for the baritone that caused vibration on the surface of her skin.

She sighed, dismayed.

She had to open her eyes to look at him and when she obeyed, his face was very close to hers and she tried not to flinch.

His eyes... she sighed without realizing what she was doing. He had eyes that had such beauty it was hard for her to describe with mere words.

Mesmerizing. Long lashes and hooded gaze. They look very sad, and she might be mistaken.

It could only be because he was drunk.

But she couldn't stop herself from staring back at him.

“Kiss me,” she heard him demand again.

But his voice was soft, not angry like he was downstairs a moment ago.

She felt his hand on her cheek, caressing her, cupping her jaw as he gently angled her face for the kiss.

She complied. Something about his voice—a catch on it—and the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he gulped after that, spoke to her.

Was he as nervous? But why? And at the thought of kissing Señorito Enrique himself, heat started to gather in her belly.

Her skin felt like it was on fire.

What was happening to her? Why was her body acting like this for the first time in her entire life?

She knew him, admired him from a distance, but he was still a stranger and she never truly thought they could be together like this.

All thoughts stopped once their lips met again. This kiss was entirely different, not harsh as earlier, though there still was a feeling behind it.

Like he needed this kiss.

He needed her to give it to him.

Her body conformed against his as his arm went around her to pull her to him. She almost moaned, and she didn't know why, when she felt his warm, naked skin against her naked skin.

His skin felt feverish for how hot it was.

Was it her imagination or did his skin hum with electricity? Or she might just be too sensitive.

She didn’t know anything as this was her first time with a man, but she felt the current. Like he was more than just alive.

He felt...

Good.

No, not just good. It was something familiar, and she wanted it closer, and closer caused a zing of pleasure to run up her spine.

It was what made her limbs move of their own volition to wrap around his thigh and rub against his skin.

The shock at her body's response froze her mind for a moment, but she wasn't given any chance to think anyway because his mouth deepened the kiss after detecting her strain, not wanting to let go.

Hotter. 

His lips pushed her mouth to open and when it did, his tongue slipped in, playfully tracing the line of her teeth, exciting her tongue for swordplay.

She kissed him back, following his pace, allowing it to lead her. Somehow, the smell of liquor on his breath didn’t seem offensive anymore.

It, and the subtle scent of his aftershave, made him seem more manly, and she was heady, but in a good way.

His hands caressed an exposed breast, and she realized there was no revulsion. There wasn't even an inkling of dislike at what he was doing to her. 

There was no unfamiliarity to the feeling of his hand on this private part of her body, given the fact this was the first time anyone but herself touched it.

In fact, her hand reached to hold his wrist—not to stop him—but because the sensation of her breast being stroked the way he was doing it was so overwhelming that she needed support.

Then he moved to cover her body with his, pushing her thighs open for him. She felt his flesh, hard as rock, as it rubbed itself against the most intimate part of her.

And she gasped, having to let go of his lips as the sensation generated by this new experience shocked her to the core.

He did it again.

“Ohhh…” The moan escaped from her. She closed her eyes as she threw her head back at the pillows on the third stroke.

He continued the slow, rhythmic strokes of his cock over her pussy as his arms held her. Her hands clutched at him, and his muscles bulged under her palms as his lower torso ground against her.

Her hips involuntarily started to move against him. Much like the kiss, she followed his lead. She felt frustration at the cloth between them. She wondered how it would feel without it. She wanted…

Did she really? She was instantly ashamed of the desire to feel him flesh-to-flesh, but at the same time, she shivered in anticipation of it. She was sure she wasn’t supposed to feel like this. But she did.

She wanted to feel him skin-to-skin, pussy-to-cock. How did he do it? How could he make her feel this way?

But she knew. As innocent as she was, she wanted him, too. 

My goodness.

She had turned into a monster.