Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

The helmet feels heavier tonight, trapping the heat of my body and the weight of my thoughts. But I keep it on because I need to remind myself that no matter how much I desire Ginevra, she’s the worst traitor since Jezebel.

She lies on the stairs, her chest heaving, her body limp and trembling from her release. She doesn’t realize it yet, but what I’m about to do isn’t just for her. It’s for me.

What’s the point of pining over someone so fickle or treating her like my goddess when she would so easily come apart at the touch of another man?

She’s so accustomed to chasing pleasure that I could never satisfy her as Benito, the virgin she discarded. I need to practice on her… as Brisket.

The air between us thickens with the sweet scent of her arousal, but my body thrums with something more. Anticipation. Hunger. Fear.

My heart pounds so hard it throbs in my throat, and for a second, I wonder if I can even go through with Brisket’s demand.

Can I take her?

I swallow hard, trying to steady my breath. I’ve waited years for Ginevra. Years of watching her from close and afar. Years of loving her, even as she lost herself in other men. Years of imagining this exact moment.

She’s mine, now. Mine via marriage. Mine via seduction. Mine via deceit. She’s always been mine, even after she left.

But this is different.

I crouch beside her, my gloved hand grazing her thigh, testing the feel of her skin beneath my fingers. I’ve touched her before. I’ve felt those lips around my cock. I’ve felt her body tremble under my hands. But this time, I’m claiming her in every way.

Ginevra flinches at the contact, but it’s not out of fear. It’s a need I sense humming just beneath the surface of her skin. She won’t admit it, but she yearns for Brisket. Yearns for any man except her Benito.

“You still want me,” I murmur, my voice distorted by the helmet. “Even now.”

A small whimper escapes her lips, but she doesn’t deny it.

She can’t.

I pull out my knife, which feels heavier in my grip than usual. Then I hesitate, my hand hovering over her waistband.

This is it—the point where everything changes. Once I cross this line, there’s no return. The thought clings to my psyche, but I shove it aside. I need to do this. I need her. With a slash, I cut through her leggings, exposing her skin, piece by piece, watching her shiver beneath the blade.

When the fabric lies on the stairs in tatters, and all that’s left of her are creamy thighs and a glistening pussy, my heart stutters.

I have to pause, to take in the evidence of her arousal. My gaze bounces to her face. She looks up at me through half-lidded eyes, her lips parted and red. Is this a freeze response? Have I frightened her into submission, or is this a silent surrender?

“You look so beautiful, lying there, trying not to beg for my cock.”

“Fuck you, Brisket,” she whispers.

What the hell does that mean?

“Is that an invitation?” I growl.

Hips rocking, breath quickening, she licks her lips, each movement telling me what words don’t. Her need burns as hot as mine, undeniable and raw. Sensation hits me so fast, I drop the knife. It’s all the justification I need for what comes next.

This is real. She wants it. This is happening.

My cock throbs painfully against my groin protector, straining to be freed. But as I unclip its fastenings, my fingers falter for a second. I’ve never done this before.

Realization trickles through my skull, unsettling and heavy. This is my first time. My first moment of truly being with her. Of being with anyone.

After this, nothing will ever be the same.

The weight of losing my virginity hits me harder than I expected. I wanted our first time to be on our wedding night, with me peeling off her white gown, making professions of love.

But she’s no longer that Ginevra. She belongs to Brisket. To Capello. To any other edgy bastard she finds exciting.

Need outweighs my jealousy. I have to be inside Ginevra, to claim her, to finally have what I’ve been denied for so long. My breath hitches as I free my cock, exposing it to the cool air.

Positioning myself between her spread legs, I rub my tip against her slick, heated folds. She shivers at the contact, gasps when my crown grazes her swollen clit, and her hips rise for more.

Her eyes are on mine, wide and scared and full of anticipation. I can’t help but groan.

“Is this what you want, little Ginny?” I growl. “Bob Brisket’s cock?”

“Shut up,” she snaps.

I chuckle, the sound bitter. “That doesn’t sound like a no.”

When I press my cock head against her entrance, skimming her warmth and her wetness, she rocks into my touch.

Fuck. She’s slick, inviting, and so ready for me, that I can’t help but let out a grunt of approval.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. Heart racing, my fingers tighten on her hips. Will she notice I’ve never done this before? Will she laugh?

When she makes an impatient noise in the back of her throat, I thrust forward, hard and fast, burying myself deep inside her sweet cunt in one rapid motion.

She cries out, her body arching off the stairs, her heat enveloping my cock, those walls clamping down in a way that’s so tight, so perfect, that I can barely breathe. A groan rips from my throat. The sensation is overwhelming. It’s more than I imagined.

I stay still for several rapid heartbeats, my cock buried deep, savoring the feeling of finally being inside her, reveling in the overwhelming bliss. My first time, and it’s with the only woman in my existence. Ginevra thought she could run, but she always belonged to me.

The satisfaction of that thought falls flat, because now that I’ve tasted Ginevra, I would give my soul to have her again and again. I’ve spent years building walls, staying untouchable, yet this taste of heaven leaves me vulnerable.

Ginevra’s breath hitches. Her body tightens and trembles around me as if she’s resisting the urge to move. She grips the banister like it’s an anchor keeping her from being swept into the waters of infidelity, but she’s already drowning.

I pull back and thrust into her again, harder this time, trying to chase this incessant longing. She gasps, her body jerking beneath mine, and I keep going. We build a rhythm, each thrust delivering shockwaves of unbridled pleasure.

As I work myself toward a climax, my self-control slips.

“Who do you belong to,” I growl, my voice thick with desperation. I need her to say it. To make a decision. To let me know if I’m wasting my time being fixated on a woman so fickle.

Either she doesn’t want to answer or she can’t. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, her body jerking with each snap of my hips.

I fuck her harder, faster, losing myself in the whirlpool of her heat, her scent, the way she fits so perfectly around my shaft. My mind tumbles, my thoughts crashing into each other like waves on a stormy sea. I lose sight of everything but Ginevra.

Through gritted teeth, I groan out once more, “Who do you belong to, little Ginny?”

Her body arches, her pleasured cry fills the air. But just as I think she won’t answer, won’t give me the satisfaction, she gasps out between ragged breaths.

“Benito… I belong to Benito Montesano.”

Pride swells in my chest, even though it shouldn’t. My wife might be unfaithful, but there’s a part of her that still clings to me. Pressure builds in my core, my veins coursing with white heat. Her words are a sweet concoction that tip me right over the edge.

“Bob Brisket,” I demand, my voice a ragged whisper. My hand snakes around to her clit, fingers rubbing in tight, fast circles, pushing her to the edge. “Say it.”

“My husband, Benito.”

Her head falls back, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as her walls milk my cock with brutal precision. She cries out with another powerful orgasm, the sound and sensation pushing me over the edge.

I follow my wife, my hips slamming into hers as I come hard, shooting jets and jets of hot cum. My entire body shudders, the release so violent and all-consuming that every nerve in my body sets on fire.

Coming down from the high, I collapse against her, but the satisfaction I expected doesn’t follow. My cock twitches, but the thrill is fading fast, leaving behind a strange hollowness. I balance my weight on the stairs, my heart still pounding in my ears.

This was supposed to be perfect—what I’ve waited for, fantasized about for years. But instead, there’s this gnawing emptiness, like I’ve lost something I’ll never get back. My first time, and I’m no longer sure if I’ve claimed her or if I’ve given away a part of myself I can’t claw back.

“Get off me,” she snarls, her hands pushing on my shoulders.

I pull out, my breath ragged, my eyes fixed on Ginevra’s face. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her lips swollen, but I’ve never seen her look so disdainful. For a second, I wonder if my helmet has come loose, but I still have night vision.

“No matter what you do, I will never want a man like you,” she spits.

Even though she’s talking to Brisket, I can’t help but flinch. Pushing my cock back into my pants, I swallow hard, wondering what the hell I’ve just done.

Ginevra curls into herself as if hiding from what just happened. “You’ve taken what you want. Now, leave.”

I stand up, adjust my pants, unable to prolong the charade. My first time was everything I thought it would be, yet there’s too much to process.

All I know is that I’m no longer the same. In taking her, I’ve changed. There’s a part of me that feels raw, exposed, in ways I didn’t expect. Like my soul is torn open, corrupted beyond repair.

But it doesn’t matter.

She will belong to me by any means necessary, even if I have to burn everything else to the ground. If this is what it takes to keep her, then so be it.

“Get out,” she screams.

My jaw clenches, and reality trickles back. She doesn’t get to paint herself as the innocent victim, taken against her will. Despite her words, a part of her still wanted Brisket.

I crouch beside Ginevra, grabbing her chin and forcing our gazes to meet. Her eyes are distant, her breath still unsteady, and I know she’s thinking about what just happened. She’s replaying our first time together and hating herself for how much she enjoyed it.

“You’ll never be free of me,” I whisper. “Never.”

I let go and step away, leaving her trembling and broken on the stairs. If Ginevra thinks she’ll be able to slip back to the hotel and resume our marriage like nothing’s happened, she’s in for a cold, hard awakening.

Tomorrow morning, Brisket will deliver a surprise that will tie Ginevra to me forever.