My head kicks back, a soft moan slipping from my throat, spreading around us like fog.
His free hand slides up my stomach and cups my breast, squeezing firmly. I begin to rock my hips, angling them, so my clit rubs against his pelvis just right.
“I can make it hurt,” Enzo says, a dark promise coloring his deep voice.
“You will,” I say, dropping my head to meet his stare. “But only how I want it.”
There’s a fight on the tip of his tongue, so I roll my hips deeper, and his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip in response, a deep growl building in his chest.
I cover his hand on my breast with my own while I grip the back of his neck with the other, guiding his head toward me without severing our eye contact. His tongue darts out, laving at my hardened nipple before sucking it into his mouth.
My eyes flutter, and I roll my hips with more vigor.
Unable to contain the salacious smile on my face, I lean until my lips brush against his ear.
“Good boy,” I whisper.
Immediately, his teeth clamp down on my nipple in response—just the reaction I was hoping for.
“Yes,” I inhale sharply, the acute combination of pain and pleasure clashing in a battle of dominance over my body.
Almost uncontrollably, Enzo rips at my bathing suit bottoms, the strings no match for his urgency and easily unraveling. Flinging it to the side, both of his hands go straight to my ass, roughly sliding toward the juncture of my thighs, gripping my flesh harshly and urging my hips faster.
He trades between soothing the sting of his bite on my nipple with his tongue, only to revive the pain with his teeth.
Cries fall from my lips, the pleasure building deep in my stomach addicting. I’m chasing after it, desperate to hold on to this for as long as I can but unable to slow and savor it.
“More,” I plea. “More pain.”
Releasing my abused peak, he fists my hair tightly and pushes upward until he’s on his knees, and I’m balanced on his thighs. I’m forced to plant both hands on the sinking sand behind me, the grains pulled from beneath me as the wave retreats. I’m barely stable enough to keep upright as he begins to power into me.
My mouth falls open on a moan, granting him easy access to let go of my hair and instead hook his finger in my bottom jaw, holding me in place.
My eyes begin to roll when he hits a particular spot inside me. But the moment I do, a sharp crack fills the air, followed by a searing burn across my cheek.
“Eyes on me, Sawyer,” he demands hotly.
There’s a moment of shock that he slapped me, but my body responds in a carnal way. My back bows and the bliss sharpens. The cry that follows is one born out of pure gratification.
Another wave rushes over my fingers, and I curl them into the sand. The freezing water and the sharp, broken seashells digging into my skin only intensify the moment.
His cock hits deep inside me, and I can feel my pussy flooding around him. Deliberately, I close my eyes, smiling around the digit hooked in my mouth as he fucks me harder.
On cue, he’s delivering another harsh slap with his free hand, this time to the side of my breast. I shudder, crowing at the sensation.
Fuck, it feels so good, and I’m tempted to glue my eyes shut just so he never stops. I’m getting so close to exploding, and I begin to meet each of his thrusts, seeking more.
“Tell me the truth, bella. Do you think you’ll still be smiling when the pain becomes too much?” he murmurs darkly, his tone full of challenge.
Instead of answering, I sink my teeth into his fingers, imparting my own brand of pain and welcoming the consequences, ensuring to grin widely while I do.
He retreats from my mouth and roughly grips my cheeks between his fingers, jerking me into his face.
“If you wanted me to make you smile, all you had to do was ask.”
He grabs ahold of my hips and lifts me off him, a protest quickly building on my tongue. For a few seconds, I’m scared he’s going to stop. But then I realize how stupid it was to fear such a thing. Enzo will never stop hurting me.
He’s forcing me to twist around, seating me back onto his cock, but this time, I have a full view of the black ocean.
There’s a seashell cutting into my knee on the sand, but it’s yet another pain that I welcome.
“Sorridi, piccola,” he orders, hooking his pointer and middle fingers in each side of my cheek and pulling back hard enough to mold my spine to his front.
I gasp, the action beginning in discomfort and morphing into something more agonizing. He stretches them until what feels like every single tooth in my mouth is on display.