Page 51 of Veil of the Past
“W-what?”
“You heard me, Red.”
My panties are soaking wet with my arousal, and my hands go to the back of my dress. My fingers tremble as I unzip it and allow the dress to pool around my feet—standing only in my underwear. He watches me for a beat, the muscles underneath his shirt moving with precision.
“All of it.”
I unhook my bra, letting it join my dress, my nipples hardening instantly. And it’s less to do with the cold air that floats in through the open window and more because of his scorching, dark gaze. Romiro looks like he’s ready to devour me.
A shiver makes its way down my spine as I hook my thumbs in either side of my panties and slide them down my legs, piling them with the rest of my clothes.
“Get on your knees at the foot of the bed, face against the mattress, and raise your ass in the air.” Sucking in a deep breath, I drop into the position, the friction of the duvet against my breasts has me biting down on my lips to stifle a moan. Romiro’s footsteps ring out, slow and deliberate. The sound of him unbuckling his belt echoes and bounces off the walls. I dig my fingers into the soft mattress and turn to watch him.
“Eyes ahead.” I pout, not wanting to miss him stripping, but he lets out a deep chuckle before saying, “You’ll get to do what you want another time. Tonight, I’m punishing you for being such a tease.” I face ahead. Hetsksbefore adding, “What were you thinking? Bringing lube to your parents’ house?”
“I was—” Romiro pushes my face into the mattress, his mouth against my ear.
“That was a rhetorical question, and I didn’t allow you to speak, Alessia. Now be a good girl and grab your ass cheeks and spread them, show me that tight hole that you want to give to me.”Fuck.My arousal drips down my inner thigh. My hands tremble, but I obey his command. God. He’s being so rough today. He’s never told me to do this before, it only adds more stimulation to my already glistening sex, and he hasn’t even touched me. I pull my cheeks apart, fully aware that my hole, and the juices that coat my pussy and inner thighs are on full display for his eyes. His footsteps ring out again, he walks away from me before coming back to stand right behind me. I feel him kneel behind me, his heat radiating down my back. “I’ll start with your ass. And if you’ll be good for me, I’ll fuck your tight pussy.” My thighs quiver at the image he’s painting. Romiro’s savage when he fucks, and I know better to expect anything other than that tonight.
“Tell me Red, has anyone ever fucked your ass?” he asks me.
“No.”
“And no one will get to, other than me. Don’t move,” he commands and I obey. My heart beats like a drum as he repositions himself, the mattress dipping under his weight. A cold liquid covers my hole and before I can focus on the sensation, Romiro forces two fingers inside my ass. He’s slow at first. I can’t help the small gasps leaving my lips, pushing my face into the mattress as I try to muffle them.
“Shh, baby. You don’t want your parents to hear the dirty sounds you make with your boyfriend’s fingers in that tight ass, now do you?” he whispers, his lips brushing against my earlobe.
“Romi—” I try to speak but a smack on my ass stops me. Did he? Oh, my God. He did. He fucking spanked me; I don’t have time to even process it. Romiro rubs his hand over my butt, soothing the stinging sensation.
“I didn’t allow you to speak, now did I? Now be good, and hold still while I loosen this hole so it can…accommodate my size.” My body burns as he thrusts his fingers slowly, in and out. But before I know what he’s doing, he’s slipping his fingers out and positioning his cock against my entrance, running the tip against me. He grabs my hips and slams himself into me.
Holy. Fuck.
He’s so deep inside of me, and then he pulls his cock out with a ruthlessness that feels like hell and heaven at the same time. His hot breath is against my back, and whimpers escape from between my lips as he drives into me with ferocious vigor that has the bed shaking. My upper body sliding back and forth on the bed with each thrust. I grab the mattress, attempting to gain some balance, but Romiro’s voice stops me. “Don’t even think of letting go of your ass. Keep holding it.” He pulls out slower this time, almost all the way, then he rams back inside, he pushes my face into the mattress to muffle an escaped scream, my teeth scrape against the linen sheets, and I feel my insides melt.
Romiro’s free hand finds my swollen clit and he works it, twisting and stroking it, leaving me panting, begging for me. His thrusts become longer, harsher, as if he’s claiming me over and over again. With the brutality of his thrusts, I don’t last. I can’t, I come apart with a hoarse cry as he spills into me.
He pulls out and collapses next to me. Romiro’s breathing is shallow—coming out fast. I’m still reeling from that orgasm, my body tingling. The bed dips, and he disappears into the attached bathroom. When he comes back, he’s holding a wet towel in his hand. I let a low groan slip out as he runs the warm wet towel over my back, the act so intimate, I feel my heart swell. He pushes my hair out of my face, pressing a kiss to my head. Then, he holds my gaze and whispers, “Thank you for trusting me.” I give him a small, tired smile.
25
ALESSIA
The heavy oak doors creak slightly as I push them open, stepping into the grand foyer of my parents’ house. Romiro had to leave in the early morning and managed to let my father know. I’m sort of hoping he won’t bring it up. The light filters in through the tall, arched windows, casting a warm, golden hue on the dark wood paneling that covers the walls.
I take a deep breath, feeling the familiar scent of old leather, polished wood, and my mamma’s perfume—a floral blend that’s both sharp and sweet—wafts toward me. The house is quiet, save for the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner, its pendulum swinging back and forth like a metronome, keeping time with my racing heart.
I cross the foyer, my footsteps echoing against the high ceilings. I know they’re waiting for me in the sitting room, the one just off to the right—the room that’s always reserved for serious conversations, the kind that leaves a knot in my stomach.
The door is ajar, and I hear the low murmur of my parents’ voices. I push it open gently, and they both look up as I step inside. My father is seated in his usual place, a high-backed, leather armchair that looks more like a throne than a piece of furniture. His face is stern, as always, but there’s a hint of something softer in his eyes today—anticipation, maybe, or concern.
Mamma is perched on the edge of the sofa, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression a careful mix of warmth and calculation. She’s dressed in one of her tailored dresses, her hair perfectly coiffed, a single pearl necklace resting against her collarbone. She looks like she’s waiting for an audience to arrive.
“Alessia,” my father says, his voice deep and commanding, but there’s a slight smile tugging at his lips. “We need to talk.”
I nod, taking a seat on the opposite sofa, feeling the fabric press against my back. “About what?” I ask, though I already have a feeling I know where this is headed. The conversation last night at dinner is still fresh in my mind—the surprise, the tension, the curiosity in their eyes when Romiro and I announced our relationship, of course my father knew beforehand, but that still left some questions unanswered.
He leans forward slightly, his hands resting on his knees. “We’re having the family lunch this Sunday at Vito’s,” he says, his tone leaving no room for debate. “And I want my son-in-law, Romiro, to be there.”
