Asra’s heart nearly stopped when she heard his footsteps approaching the bed.
She kept her eyes squeezed shut, pretending to sleep, but her body betrayed her—trembling under the silk sheets, breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The mattress dipped heavily as Ather sat on the edge, right beside her small frame.
“Open your eyes, Asra.”
His voice was low, dark, and dripping with command. No softness. Only hunger.
She obeyed slowly, lashes fluttering. The moment her wide, fearful brown eyes met his, Ather’s control snapped.
He leaned over her, one large hand pinning her wrists above her head against the pillow. At 190 cm, he completely dwarfed her 164 cm body. His other hand traced down her side, slipping under the hem of her thin, wine-stained dress.
“You heard everything, didn’t you?” he murmured, lips brushing her ear. “Every filthy word I said about you.”
Asra whimpered, cheeks burning. “S-Sir… please…”
“Please what?” He pushed her dress up to her waist in one rough motion, exposing her soft thighs and simple white panties. “Please stop? Or please don’t stop?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. His mouth crashed down on hers—possessive, demanding, claiming. He kissed her like he owned her soul, tongue invading, teeth nipping at her lower lip. Asra moaned into his mouth, scared and overwhelmed, her small body squirming beneath him.
Ather pulled back just enough to growl in Italian against her neck, voice thick with lust:
“Sei così bagnata per me già, piccola innocente… cazzo, quanto sei stretta.”
(You’re already so wet for me, little innocent… fuck, how tight you are.)
His fingers slid inside her panties, finding her slick heat. Asra cried out, back arching as he stroked her slowly, deliberately, his long fingers teasing her virgin entrance. He circled her clit with his thumb, watching her face with dark, predatory eyes.
“Look at you,” he said arrogantly, voice cold even as desire burned in his gaze. “Trembling like a frightened little girl under a man old enough to be your father. Yet your body is dripping for me.”
Two thick fingers pushed inside her without warning. Asra gasped sharply, tears slipping down her temples. The stretch burned, but the pressure of his palm against her clit sent unwanted sparks of pleasure through her.
“Sir—! It hurts…” she whimpered, childish voice breaking.
“Shh. Take it,” he ordered ruthlessly, pumping his fingers deeper, curling them against that sensitive spot inside her. “This pussy belongs to me. It’s been mine since the day I claimed you.”
He moved faster, thumb pressing harder on her swollen clit. Asra’s hips jerked involuntarily, soft moans escaping despite her fear. The pleasure built rapidly, terrifying in its intensity.
Ather watched her with dark satisfaction, leaning down to bite the side of her neck, marking her. “Come for me, Asra. Let me feel this tight little cunt squeeze my fingers.”
She shattered with a broken cry, body convulsing, tears streaming down her face as her first orgasm crashed over her. Ather didn’t stop, drawing it out until she was shaking and oversensitive.
Only then did he withdraw his fingers and bring them to her lips.
“Suck.”
She obeyed with hazy, tear-filled eyes, tasting herself on his skin. The sight made him groan.
Ather stripped off his shirt, revealing a perfectly sculpted, battle-hardened body covered in faint scars. He freed himself from his pants, his heavy, throbbing cock springing out. Asra’s eyes widened in panic at the size.
“Sir… it won’t fit—” she whispered fearfully.
“It will,” he said arrogantly, positioning himself between her trembling thighs. He rubbed the thick head against her soaked folds, coating himself in her wetness. “You’ll take every inch like a good girl.”
He pushed inside her slowly but relentlessly, stretching her virgin walls around his girth. Asra sobbed, nails digging into his shoulders as he filled her completely, bottoming out with a deep groan.
“Così stretta… fuck, you’re squeezing me so perfectly,” he rasped in a mix of Italian and English.
He started moving—deep, powerful thrusts that made the bed creak. His hand pinned her wrists again while the other gripped her hip, holding her in place as he fucked her. Each stroke was possessive, claiming, ruthless.
Asra could only moan and cry beneath him, overwhelmed by the mix of pain and blinding pleasure. “Sir… Sir, please—”
“Please more?” He smirked darkly, pounding harder. “Greedy little thing.”
He leaned down, biting her neck and breasts, leaving marks everywhere as he drove into her again and again. When she came a second time, walls fluttering around him, Ather followed with a low, animalistic growl, burying himself deep and filling her with hot spurts of his release.
For a few moments, the only sounds were their heavy breathing.
Ather stayed inside her, forehead pressed against hers. His hand gently brushed the tears from her cheeks—almost tenderly—before the cold mask slipped back into place.
“You’re mine now, Asra,” he whispered against her lips. “Body and soul. Never forget that.”
He finally pulled out and gathered her small, exhausted body against his chest, one strong arm wrapped possessively around her. Asra hid her face in his neck, still trembling, too overwhelmed to speak.
In the silence, Ather stared at the ceiling, the ghosts of his past whispering in the back of his mind.
She’s getting too close.
Yet he tightened his hold on her anyway.
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