His fingers touched her most sensitive point, pressing down with bad intentions, stroking over it with each withdrawal, and she couldn't resist the urge to cry out, biting her lower lip to the point of pain, and then she tried to raise her hand to hit him, but her hands were clipped back behind her back by him.
'I still like you to be good, little wildcats aren't my idea of fun right now!'
The tight curve of his jaw foreshadowed his anger, not knowing if it was at her or himself. In the past, how she fought back, how she hit him, it landed on his body like a scratch, he wouldn't have cared at all, but now his body was traumatised, and as she whacked him down one at a time, those hidden injuries bubbled back up, and a patch of golden-white light whisked in front of his eyes, and he knew that he didn't look well, with his sickly pallor, and he didn't want to let her see him like that, as if it was becoming a strain to even ask for her.
He knew she was ready, the entrance to the secret place shallow and full of surplus water, and no longer holding back, he ripped off her little inner as soon as he could, releasing his angst to stuff her bit by bit.
Sophia impatiently raised her head, her bundled up hair had been picked apart by him, curled loose hanging on the back of the shoulders, warm light, there is a layer of velvet edge, coupled with the seductive posture of the half-faded clothes, like a very thick and heavy coloured paintings. Capone looked lost in thought, the movement just with those slippery water more and more quickly, his breath was buried in the neck of her neck, and sucked hard kisses on the neck of the white swan like her.
Sophia was uncooperative, even defiant, and although her body was pressed against him, her legs were hanging down at her sides, stiff and not at all as enthusiastic as she had been in the past when she had coiled herself around his waist, not to mention enthusiastically and alluringly twisting and twirling herself around and around in a way that made him go crazy from the numbness he was experiencing.
He couldn't move enough, so he grabbed one ankle and pulled it to the edge of the stage, where she stepped on it, her body forced to spread even wider for him to take what he wanted.
He found that he liked seeing her bare feet, white and tender, with nails that had a natural sheen like shells, uninhibited, and most of all reminding him of the days when they had lived together on the mesha island.
It was then that he really felt what it was like to miss someone or a period of time so much that his heart ached, the physical pleasure might be replaced by others, but certain details that touched his soul could not be replaced by others.
It was her, only her.
He simply pulled her other leg up and curled it in front of her, pushing her legs even further apart to the side of the phase, both feet resting slightly on the edge of the counter, the bloodied stamen between her legs and the sight of him moving in and out of her visible.
But the position was too awkward and nasty, Sophia was so mortified she tried to close her legs, but Capone held her knees down, his hot breath rasping in the crook of her neck, 'No closing, I want to take you like this!'
'Shame on you, let go of me, why should I listen to you?'
'Because I'm your man, I've already repeated and physically reminded you countless times, haven't you remembered yet?'
'Ah ... you, you're not ...'
Capone slammed into her depths and said coldly, 'I'm not? Is Roger? Did he want you that way too?'
'None of your business!'
While the dialogue between the two flared, their bodies mingled like water and milk, her warmth encompassing the hardest part of him like it had never been apart.
Capone inclined his head to see the half made tiramisu next to him, the cheese paste poured into the large glass bowl, he casually picked a dollop of it and smeared it on the tips of the white soft peaks of Sophia's breasts, the cold smoothness stimulated Sophia to suck in a breath of air, 'What are you doing?'
'Do you know there's a cuisine called Femdom? It's like what we're having right now ... I love eating what you make with your own hands, and I love it even more when your body feeds it to me! I'm guessing that your fiancé has never been treated like this before?'
Capone dipped his head, the tip of his tongue nimbly licking away the soft, cheesy paste from her skin, lightly pursing into his mouth for a slightly harder bite when he came across a hard berry, like feeling a flaky finger biscuit melt between your lips when you eat tiramisu.
His tongue slightly picking, as if encountering the world's most delicious delicacies, a wisp of it are not willing to miss, that expression and concentration like licking candy children, but from time to time to raise his eyes to look at her eyes but seductive incitement.
'Nasty!'
Sophia reprimanded him, but the feeling of the body can not be deceived, his movements made her bones gradually soft, deep in the body there is a tide of joy gushing out, nourishing the vulnerability of the two people.
His breath still rested hotly in his ear, relying on a fixation that refused to go, 'Sophy, I told you, I don't care about other women, only down/fluid with you ... It's relaxing with you, we're mating/fun, not warring, and you're my woman, and have never been... . never been my enemy!'
Sophia's heart shook, stopping her restless writhing body and inclining her head to look at him.
Their faces were so close together that when she turned her head like that, her lips brushed his face and Capone looked back at her, all those hot flashes and the fascination that she couldn't put away in time turning into soft light falling into her pupils.
He kissed her on the lips again and pulled her legs up to coil around his waist, the two of them pressing together without a gap.
'Sophy...,' he said, his hips swaying so fast, his boiling blood rushing to the small of his back, that calling her name was more like a plea of love.
His hand covered her back, stroking back and forth over the lash wound he'd given her, heartbroken but with an unaccountable thrill.
He couldn't bear to see her suffer, but he loved the mark he had left.
Only as he obliviously ran his palm against her back, he came across a new scar, not too large, not too small, jutting out and unfamiliar near her pretty butterfly bone.
The pleasure had built up to the point of explosion, and at the touch of that sensitive new wound, Sophia seemed to wince, her body uncontrollably twisting, and Capone didn't have time to ask what was wrong with the wound before his whole body floated up as if stepping onto a cloud.
His body tensed to the hilt and with a deep thrust, all the essence poured out to stay in her depths, and he gasped raggedly, holding her close, those low growls that he could barely hold back muffled and hidden as he buried them in the crook of her neck.
He even bit her, as if she couldn't take it either and died on his neck.
But the bunny's bite held no force, and he could feel the blood that should have seeped out.
Both were dishevelled, hugging each other, their breathing a ragged and messy mess. In addition to the creamy aroma of the cake, the air was also mixed with the complex scent of a man and a woman in love.
Capone couldn't wait for both of them to calm down, so he pulled a bottle of wine from a shelf, bit off the cork and took a big gulp, then leaned over and fed it to Sophia in his arms.
He knew that once he calmed down, she'd inevitably blame him again with that desperate, vacant look in her eyes, and he couldn't afford that, so he might as well get drunk.
Sophia didn't even have time to react before she tried to speak, only to be choked by the sip of alcohol he fed her, causing her to cough.
"Drink slowly!" He wiped the alcohol from the corner of her lips, a satisfied, seductive smile on his face, before forcing another drink into her.
He pulled up her clothing to prevent her from catching a cold, but his body still remained pressed against hers, unwilling to pull away, enjoying the sight of her flushed face from the alcohol.
The white work uniform she wore on the outside somehow bothered him—it seemed too glaring. He frowned and forcefully ripped the clothes off her, tossing them aside onto the floor.
"What are you doing? You're crazy!"
Sophia wasn't good at holding her liquor. After gulping down several large sips of the strong brandy, her head felt hot, and all she wanted was to tear the man in front of her into pieces.
"I'm crazy because of you!" He gripped her arm tightly, pulling her into him. "Don't marry him. If you do, not only will I destroy you, I'll destroy him too!"
Sophia stared at him for a long time. "Capone, do you find this amusing? We're never going to be together again, so why won't you let me marry someone else?"
Even if a couple breaks up, no matter how deeply they loved each other, they could still find happiness again. Capone's possessiveness was just too strong, and it made no sense.
Capone pressed his lips together tightly, and after a long silence, he said coldly, "Is what you call being together just getting married?"
Sophia turned her face away, distressed. "You said you'd never marry the daughter of your enemy. As long as you can't let go of your hatred and those burdens in your heart, you'll never trust me. You'll always think I've betrayed you!"
Capone couldn't stand seeing her sad expression. He thought back to the time he took her ring shopping and wouldn't let her touch the love knot. "Sophia, I..."