My body molds to her tits, crushing them against my chest. My lips find hers and I kiss her with abandon.

She gasps, startled by the tenderness of my kiss, but soon enough, she’s moaning against my mouth, her hands getting lost in my hair.

She tastes of the pasta and me. I don’t know at what point she started to taste like me but I’ll do everything in my might to always have me on her.

Still kissing her, I lift her leg and then my dick finds her entrance, thrusting into her so slowly, she moans against my mouth.

“Oh, God, Jasper.”

I don’t hurry or pick up my pace. I continue kissing her as my hips slowly move, my cock unhurried inside her. I savor her and let her savor me in return.

It’s the first time I go this slow with her, the first time I’m not using her, and I can see the realization in her gray eyes as her hips jerk and tears rim her lids.

It’s the fantasy she didn’t know she needed — the one where someone worships her body, makes her feel like a fucking queen.

Because she is.

My queen.

I kiss the hollow of her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. I rotate my hips slow and without urgency.

Soon enough, she’s coming all over my dick. The orgasm goes through her for such a long time as she wraps her arms around me, using me as an anchor.

I follow her, spilling inside her with a force that startles even me.

We’re breathing heavily as we stare at each other, riding our pleasure.

She opens her mouth to say something, but I don’t want her to ruin this moment, so I capture her lips with mine and take her under all over again.

6

Georgina

Jasper is giving me whiplash.

Since that day he fucked me slowly and tenderly, I feel like he’s been pulling down my walls one by one.

The way he touched me, held me, kissed me? I couldn’t even conceive it in my wildest dreams. It’s like a different type of fantasy — the type I didn’t know I had.

I never actually enjoyed normal sex. That’s why I had those videos, that’s why I harbored those fantasies, but maybe I never enjoyed normal sex because it didn’t come with the intensity Jasper offered.

The level of passion he touched me with still lives under my skin. He does spank me and choke me, and I love it, but I find myself craving the other side. The side where he kisses every inch of my skin and worships me as if I’m the only one for him.

Almost as if I’m his queen.

That’s wrong, isn’t it? I’m not supposed to crave my captor, my kidnapper, my tormentor.

It was easy when he used to torture me, to have me beg for orgasms, to strap me with vibrators. At least back then, I pretended I was here against my will, I was forced into this, and he was taking my choice away.

I can handle his harshness, but what am I supposed to do with his tenderness?

Shaking my head, I come down the stairs. I’m not supposed to want to do anything about him or his change of moods, because I’m going to leave.

I don’t care how, but I’m escaping this place and going to my family. I’ll leave Jasper and his mind games and slow fucks behind. I don’t want or need that headache.

Over the past couple of days, he’s allowed me to walk around the house because apparently, he has guards now and I can’t escape even if I try.

He also caressed my cheek and told me to be a good girl. It’s my weakness when he calls me that or pet. His petal. I hate the sound of my full name on his lips. It doesn’t sound right, almost like a stranger — and a twisted part of my brain doesn’t want Jasper to be a stranger.

He never was. Not in the past and certainly not now.

I find Salli in the kitchen. She always asks me to talk slower, but she’s the only person here who speaks English, aside from Jasper.

There’s Enzo too, but I’ve been staying away from him as much as I can. He still scares the hell out of me and looks at me as if he wants to murder me.

“Buongiorno, Salli.”

“Buongiorno, signorina.”

“Georgie is fine,” I smile. She won’t stop calling me that.

Salli is older, around mid-fifties if I had to guess. She’s a plump woman with soft olive skin and hands that look as if they worked the earth.

She’s organizing fresh vegetables into the enormous refrigerator and I step in to help her.

“Wow. Are you preparing food for an army?”

“There’s an important meeting tonight,” she says, her accent less thick.

Jasper and his meetings. They’re almost never-ending. In a short span of time, he gathered so many men. Why does he keep me if he has so countless people who follow him and who’d love to stay with him?

“I’ll help,” I tell Salli.

Not only do I have nothing better to do, but I need to get close to Salli because she might as well be my only chance of escape. If I become friends with her, surely she’ll find a way to get me out of here. I know I shouldn’t bet too much on it considering she’s so loyal to Jasper, but I can at least milk her for information.

“So, how did you learn English?”

“I lived in the States when the late Mr. Vitallio was alive.” She makes a cross and murmurs words in Italian which I assume are prayers.

“Were you there when...you know…”

“No, but my husband was.” A sad gleam covers her face. “Costa men killed him and everyone else in cold blood.”

My heart aches for her loss and I caress her hand. I doubt Salli knows who I am or she wouldn’t be talking to me right now.

A small boy with dark hair trots inside, followed by a silver kitten. “Nonna!”

She crouches in front of him to clean the dirt from his clothes, telling him soft words in Italian. I smile at him and he hides behind her big skirt, peeking at me with curious, huge eyes.

“This is Francesco, my grandchild.” She tells me. “He’s just shy.”

“It’s okay.” I take a piece of ham and offer it to the kitten, my heart aching with how much I miss Mrs. Hudson and Mr. Bingley. I know Dinah and Katya won’t leave them unfed, but I’ve been away for some time. If my friends filed a missing person report and couldn’t find me, maybe they gave the cats up to a shelter.

My heart squeezes. Mr. Bingly is too picky and wouldn’t survive in a shelter.

Damn Jasper. If he kidnapped me, couldn’t he bring the cats, too?

Speak of the devil. Literally.

I lift my eyes just to meet Jasper’s blue ones. He’s wearing a suit without a tie. The rugged look with his styled hair makes me swallow.

He’s so mouthwatering, it’s unfair.

It’s all because of the weird ways he’s touching me, I swear. If he weren’t confusing me with all these feelings, I wouldn’t be looking at him like this.

I wouldn’t want to jump into his arms and kiss him or something.

He’s my captor. My tormentor. Not someone I should jump into his arms and kiss him.

And yet, as he stands there with a hand in his pants and his gaze following my every movement like a hawk, I lean more forward so he’ll get a better look at the cleavage peeking from the opening of my dress.

His eyes darken, and I pretend to only focus on petting the kitty as she nuzzles into my hand.