Page 19

Chapter 19

Nova

It feels like I've slept for days. I can't remember the last time I've slept that hard.

I've always been a light sleeper. In large part, because of my dreams and the horrors in them—as well as the need to sleep with one eye open.

I yawn and stretch, feeling like a perfectly content, lazy cat.

There's my little hellcat. Show me your claws.

My eyes fly open, and my heart hammers as I scan the room.

I'm alone in the bedroom. Massimo isn't here.

Those were just his words last night. After he bathed and took care of me. After he fed me, ensuring I ate.

Don't be a stupid idiot—

I cut my judgmental inner critic off.

I'm warm and still hovering in that space between sleep and reality. I'd much rather focus on the memories of Massimo, which are making my heart pound and my core throb.

I'm burrowed under the thick comforter, and my hand is at the waistband of my soft cotton pajamas pants.

Do I dare?

I've never touched myself. The very real possibility of being watched by Mauro always killed any spark of sexual urges.

There could be cameras in here, too. There likely are.

Do I care ?

My pulse quickens as my hand pushes underneath the waistband. I'm bare underneath because Massimo didn't dress me in underwear.

The thought of the massive man bathing me—he even washed my hair—drying me off, and then dressing me… caring for me, adds an ache to the throbbing between my legs.

Easing my legs apart, I reach down and gasp at the pool of wetness. I also gasp at the sensation of touching my vagina for the purpose of pleasure for the first time ever.

A knock on my bedroom door makes me snatch my hand out of my pants. My heart thunders as I bolt upright in the bed.

"Princess?"

"Yes?" I squeak.

The door opens, and Massimo comes in. He's wearing black slacks and a white button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to showcase his corded, inked forearms.

My cheeks burn with mortification that he almost caught me.

And that I was about to finger myself for the first time with thoughts of him.

And that the way he's looking at me makes more heat and wetness pool between my legs.

"Are you alright?" He frowns, shutting the door. "You look flushed. Do you have a fever?"

I jump out of bed, holding up my hands to warn him off from coming closer. He stops but looks like he wants nothing more than to pull me into his arms.

Idiot. He's playing you . He doesn't care about you outside of you being a pawn and a tool against your father.

Another voice in my head joins in, adding to the chaos of warnings and my confusing feelings. Don't show him your fight. Be the meek and docile princess everyone expects.

I lower my eyes and chin. "I'm fine."

"Princess," he says softly. "Please don't do that. Don't wilt and hide from me. "

My eyes fill with unbidden tears, and I blink them back. The urge to believe Massimo—to trust that I can be myself with him—is overwhelming and intense.

I keep my head lowered, seeing his shoes appear in my line of vision as he cautiously approaches. His finger gently touches my chin, lifting my face. His thumbs brush under my eyes to gather the unshed tears.

"Get dressed, Nova." His face is unreadable, but his voice and eyes are gentle. "Then we'll have some breakfast."

He's essentially given me a command, and I'm conditioned to obey. I walk to the closet and flick on the light.

Anger coils in my gut that I just obeyed, like a damn puppy being trained to follow orders. And as I stare around the closet, my anger increases, and my hands curl into first.

The closet is full of designer clothes. Beautiful, stunning clothes fit for a princess.

Just like the Mancini Princess would wear.

What I wouldn't give to shred every article of clothing in here.

I push away the urge to do just that. I take deep, calming breaths until my anger is under control—and until I’m sure I won’t destroy thousands of dollars’ worth of clothing.

Scanning the closet again, I see all the clothes still have the tags and look to be my size.

More confusing feelings are added to the mix—why would Massimo spend thousands of dollars for a full wardrobe for his captive?

Pushing my confusion aside, I scan the closet again and see my duffel bag in the corner. I grab it and take out some of my own clothes; the high-waisted, light-wash jeans I'd bought in Italy, along with silk panties and a matching bra, and the well-worn men's T-shirt that had belonged to my mom. I had salvaged it before the staff removed all her belongings, barely an hour after her funeral.

I quickly get dressed. The shirt way to big on me, and I need to find something to tie it up at my waist. I could bunch and knot it, but I don't want to stretch or ruin the excessively worn material I've cherished for a decade .

When I exit the closet, Massimo is leaning against the wall, reading something on his phone.

The man is criminal.

Yes, I know he's a criminal, but dear God, the man is a work of art. Gorgeous. Massive. Lethal.

His head lifts, and his eyes lock on me. My breath hitches, then stops completely when he steps toward me, his eyes and face flashing with rage, his nostrils flaring.

I stumble back as the warning bells clang in my head.

I don't know what I did to anger him, but it's obvious I did something.

"Take. That. Off."

Okay, we're back to the stripping thing, which I stupidly thought we were done with.

But rather than wilt and hide from him, I stiffen my spine as the fire and fight don't just spark to life inside me, but they burn like an inferno.

I don't think, I just react.

"No."

The clothes I've chosen aren't to his liking? They're not good enough for him? Or does he expect me to dress like the Mancini Princess but not act like her?

I'm more confused than ever, but I'm rolling with this, consequences be damned. I have no earthly idea what the hell has gotten into me, but I can't stop.

His big hand fists my old T-shirt. "I will shred this if you don't take it the fuck off."

It feels like I'm having an out-of-body experience and am watching myself.

My face flushes with anger. My hands clench into fists. My right one raises and punches his jaw. My left hand lifts, and I slap his cheek. Then I shriek like a banshee and launch at him, wrapping my arms and legs around him.

But I don't stop there.

No, because apparently, I've lost my goddamn mind .

And I bite down on his neck like I'm a wild animal, here to fight to the death because he will not take this shirt from me. It's the only thing I have left of my mother's.

Massimo growls like a beast, and it takes me a hot minute to realize he's not punishing me. He's not fighting me or trying to make me stop. His massive hands are cupping my ass, flexing and digging into my flesh, holding me up against him.

Blood fills my mouth, and a horrified part of my brain—though it's a small part right now—realizes I've pierced his skin with my teeth.

But I don't pull away from his neck. No, like an insane vampire, I start to suck.

My body is on fire. I feel like I'm undulating between rigidness and melting.

"That's it, my little hellcat," Massimo growls again, and my hips buck.

Sensations I've never experienced before overwhelm me, and a lightning bolt of pleasure shoots through me. I instinctively grind against him, like I'm following some age-old lesson, knowing exactly what to do. More pleasure bolts through me when he grips my ass harder and assists my movements.

All reason has vanished. The only thing I’m capable of is feeling.

A tingle runs down my spine and spreads across my lower back. My sex feels swollen and it's throbbing. I can't think straight as I'm suddenly chasing something I don't recognize or understand.

I release my teeth from his neck but keep my mouth pressed to it.

"Let me take you there, princess," Massimo rasps into the crown of my head as he continues moving me.

Pressurized pleasure builds within my core, like the crescendo of a song, right before the drop.

"Come for me, Nova."

My head falls back, and Massimo catches it, cradling the nape of my neck.

Come?

As in orgasm?

My eyes are heavy, but I force them to open. His dark brown eyes flame with a heat so intense, I shiver as more pleasure floods through me.

"Never… Had…"

"No man has ever made you come?" His nostrils flare, and I somehow know it's with some sort of primal satisfaction.

I close my eyes, not wanting him to see the deeper truth that I've never even made myself orgasm before.

"You're going to be the death of me, princess. I deserve goddamn Sainthood," he groans. "What I wouldn't give for your first orgasm to be on my fingers or my tongue. My fucking cock."

My breath catches, desperately wanting that, too. "Massimo," I whimper. "Please."

"I haven't earned that yet."

My core squeezes and my body pulls taut. My back arches, and my head falls back. "Massimo," I cry.

"That's it, princess. Good fucking girl."

Maybe it's him calling me a good fucking girl, or that he's rubbing me harder and faster over his rigid length, but I come for him.

I come for the first time in my life.

My eyes roll back in my head, and my core explodes. I don't think I make much noise because my throat has clamped shut as my entire body contracts. Then a husky, guttural moan sounds, and I vaguely process that it's me making that noise.

"Jesus. Fuck." Massimo's hand tightens on my nape, and I open my eyes. "You're the most exquisite thing I've ever seen."

Wave after wave of contractions, with spikes of ecstasy coming with each one, roll through me, and I'm unable to look away from him.

Until all too soon, reality comes crashing back in, and I'm left shaking and limp in his arms. Staring at him in horror.

What did I just do?

I punched him. I…

There are teeth marks and blood on his neck. My hand shakes as I wipe the back of it across my mouth, and it's smeared slightly with blood.

I bit him. Pierced his skin. Sucked at the blood. And humped him like a dog in heat.

Shame and mortification flood me, with fear close behind—dreading the punishment I'm sure is coming .

"Nova?" Massimo's brows pull together as I lay limp in his arms. "Sweetheart?"

A sob catches in my chest.

His face softens, and he shifts me so I'm cradled in his arms, bridal style. He walks to the ensuite.

By the time he sets me on the vanity, I'm shaking so hard that I nearly fall off. He steadies me, reaching for a face cloth from the shelf by the mirror, then wets it and cleans my face.

Which makes me cry harder.

I'm so confused. Not only for my feelings, but because I'm on the edge, waiting for a blow of punishment to come because I failed some test or game.

Maybe allowing him to make me come is his depraved game.

That makes me choke on another sob.

He doesn't stop administering his care. He whispers soft words while he wipes my nose and gently pulls a brush through my tangled hair as I slowly calm down.

By the time he's pulling the brush repeatedly through my tangle-free hair, I'm drained and dreading the punishment that's coming.

"What's with the shirt?" His deep voice rumbles in the quiet of the bathroom.

I stiffen, and his hands still. His voice is harsher when he speaks. "I won't have another man's clothing on you, Nova."

What?

I chance looking at him. He looks angry but seems to be trying to control it. But then his words sink in, and I shake my head.

"It's my…" I swallow to wet my parched throat. "It's the only thing left I have of my mother's."

His stoic mask falls, and I see the guilt and pain.

But I don't trust what I see, and I remind myself that monsters are the best at games and tests and making you learn horrible lessons.

"Princess." He cups my face, and as he presses a kiss to my forehead, another sob threatens to rip me wide open. "I'm sorry." He sighs against my skin. "I keep fucking up with you. I'm sorry I threatened to destroy something so cherished. "

I blink rapidly and bite the inside of my cheek, fighting back tears. Why am I so emotional? Why is it so hard to keep my walls up and hide my feelings from him?

He kisses my forehead again, then backs away. "Take a moment. I'll wait for you outside in the hall. When you're ready, we'll go downstairs for breakfast."

I'm not being caged in this room?

I don't fool myself into thinking I'll be treated like a guest with free rein, but it would be nice not to be stuck in only one or two rooms in this house.

It's a trick .

I study his face, trying to figure out how this will come back to bite me in the ass, but I'm at a loss.

My stomach rumbles, and Massimo smiles.

"I'll wait for you outside, princess."

A shiver courses through me, thinking of what will happen when he finally makes me learn the lesson that I'm sure is coming.