Ciao Bella

Chapter Twenty-Two

“When the tables turn, they really turn, and when your woman asks, you obey or pay the price.” —King Campisi

Bella

It took every last shred of nerve I had to ask.

My pride was already gone, and I decided that queens didn’t just get their thrones, no they fought for them, or they took them and the ones who were born into it were destroyed.

So, I would take something for myself.

Especially after seeing his behavior tonight. I was hurt but more pissed than anything because while Ivan was a tease, he would never actually make-out with random women in front of me.

Maybe he forgot all his confessions. He hated it when women smoked, then kissed him, he hated long nails, and he really didn’t like it to be too easy for him.

All red flags.

He’d been acting.

It still stung.

But there was more to the story, and I had no more brain power to try to solve the puzzle he kept throwing in front of me.

I just wanted my kiss.

I wanted what was owed to me for my sacrifice—but most of all, I wanted my power and I wanted it to be my choice.

Ivan was powerful beneath me, all golden skin and sinewy muscles spread across his stomach and flexed biceps as he kept his hands to himself. His half-hooded gaze screamed sex, and he wasn’t hiding anything from the waist down.

I let myself look my fill.

He was mine. after all, even if he was the worst human being on the planet—he was mine.

“Tell me.” I pressed my palms against his chest.

He exhaled a fuck, or maybe it was duck, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t thinking about ducks in that moment. “Yes?”

“What feels good to you?”

He swallowed slowly. “Are you sure you want this?”

I nodded. “Give me something for taking everything, Ivan.”

“So, you want my body and soul, is that it?” he rasped.

“I’ll take what I can get.” I dug my nails into his skin, his muscles flexed—his entire body flexed. “So, how do I touch you?”

“Grab me.” He bit down on his lower lip. “Not too hard, not too soft, don’t break me, move your hand—”

I was already following instructions perfectly.

“Yup, that works, that’s nice.”

“Nice?” I gripped him harder; he was stiff as steel, massive. “Are you sweating?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Just really hot right now, trying to focus.”

“On my hand?”

“Sure, your hand.” He opened his eyes. “Now watch me take in the pleasure of your hands on me and do whatever you want.”

I looked down at my phone. “A lot can happen in eight minutes.”

“It’s only been two minutes?” He seemed horrified.

I grinned. “Sorry, I miscounted, it’s only been ninety seconds.”

If looks could kill, I would be dead on the spot.

“So…“ I pretended not to notice. “I just pleasure you, like this…” I moved my hand faster, squeezed harder only to relent just when he looked like he was going to embarrass himself. “Right?”

“Yes?”

“Was that a question?”

“No?”

“Are you okay?”

“No.” He took a deep breath. “Are you just going to torture me as your gift or—”

“No.” I released him. “But I am going to kiss you, and I know you‘re not supposed to touch me, but you do owe me a kiss, so you better make it good, husband.”

He nodded. “I can do that.”

“I have my doubts.”

He scoffed. “Really?”

I lay across him, then hooked my heels around his waist and flipped over onto my back, taking him over with me until he was straddling me naked. “Kiss me.”

“That’s touching you.”

“Not really touching; you’re keeping your hands to yourself. I only want your mouth.”

“Gonna get me killed,” he muttered, and then lowered his head, placing both hands on either side of my head.

When his lips grazed mine, I could have sworn a sensory overload went over my body. His lips were soft and greedy at the same time. He moaned into my mouth when I gripped him by the neck and pulled him down harder.

I reminded myself he was a killer at the very same time my brain reminded me he had begged for my trust.

And then I stopped thinking and just… felt.

His head turned to the side as he lifted a hand and dropped it, I draped my arms around his neck and pulled him in tighter. His cock pulsed against my stomach, demanding attention. As his lips ravished my mouth, electrical sensations radiated through my body, settling low in my abdomen, then drifting between my legs, sparking fluttering flames of yearning and want I didn’t understand. I moved beneath him, needing more contact. Desperate for it.

“Shit.” He panted against my lips. “Forget Nixon, I’m going to die right here.”

I didn’t have that much more time left.

And I didn’t want to be desperate or frantic. Was it too much to just want to be wanted? To want to be loved? And how pitiful that tears were filling my eyes just thinking about it.

Ivan broke away from me and stared down at the phone.

“How much time?” I asked.

“Enough.” He leaned down until our foreheads pressed against one another. “Do I have your permission? Not your dad’s, not anyone else’s, do I have your permission?”

“Yes.” I didn’t think about it.

Because nobody had asked me the entire time what I wanted. Nobody cared, or maybe they just saw the bigger picture. It was strange watching the villain ask a hero’s question.

It was warm.

It was powerful.

It made me feel like for one brief moment someone saw past the title, the name, past the money—they saw my tears, my grief, joy, pain. For the first time since meeting Ivan, he didn’t attack when I was weak.

He embraced me and made me feel strong.

He pulled me up and flipped me around until I was pressed against his lap and moved his fingers down my stomach, sliding my thong away. I jerked when his hand cupped me, his heat mingling with mine until the muscles at my core contracted and bunched, more and more, whatever he could give. Small kisses rained down my jaw and neck as he started to move his fingers.

My breath stalled in my throat.

Then I gasped as my body came alive under his touch.

“Stay with me, Bella.” He bit down on the lobe of my ear, his mouth wet, my body following suit. “Just stay with me, enjoy your moment.”

Heat flashed over my body, leaving a trail of prickling tingles in its wake as pressure built between my legs, my muscles tensed. His finger movements became more intense, frenzied… and more focused only on me. It was what I nearly begged for, what I needed-for me.

I forgot everything but chasing the feeling he was giving me, moving myself against his fingers while he sucked on my skin, taking tiny bites, giving tiny kisses until an explosion of pleasure washed over me.

The alarm went off.

The cease fire was over.

A knock sounded at the door, before a key card was scanned, and it opened, revealing Tank.

And a very shocked expression before he cursed, looked away, ran into two walls, and left.

“Think he’s going to tell?” I panted.

Ivan rested his chin against my shoulder. “I guess if he does you won’t have to worry anymore, I’ll be dead by morning.” He tightened his arms around me. “On that nice thought.” He pressed me down onto my back and lifted my thong back into its semi rightful place and kissed me on the mouth. “Maybe it’s better this way.”

He got off me, clearly aroused, and pulled the covers over me. “Wait.” I grabbed his hand. “Don’t go.”

“Monsters like the dark.” He pointed out. “It’s a bit too light in here.”

“So, turn off the lights.”

“I wasn’t talking about the actual light that’s bright… I was talking about you.” He hesitated, then leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. “Make sure my funeral’s pretty and at least pretend to cry.”

“Tears of joy?”

“Absolutely, make it embarrassingly epic,” he said sadly. “If you hear screaming, you can start celebrating.”

Minutes went by before the key card sounded again and Tank was back in my room. “Everything okay in here?”

I pretended to be asleep and nearly choked on my own breath when he walked through the hotel room toward Ivan’s room and closed the door.

No gunshots.

No screaming.

No fighting.

I wondered what was worse, the noise or lack of it.