29. Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Olivia
H e said I was playing with fire, but there has been a blaze burning beneath my skin for a while now. I finally understand why some people jump from cliffs with only a parachute strapped to their back and call it fun. There is a certain thrill when you toe the line of danger, one that reminds you that you are alive. And I have wanted to feel alive even before Alessandrio took me. My life has always been out of my control, at the mercy of others, and now I just want to taste, if only for a moment, what it feels like to take something for myself.
I watch, mesmerized at the contrast between his darker fur and my pale thigh. I can barely get a breath in as it slowly begins a leisurely journey up, each bit of skin covered has my core clenching tighter with anticipation as a soft breathy gasp steals from my lungs. The sound of shifting leather has my head and pleading eyes moving to him. In this light he is cast in contrasts, the fluorescents making him glow in areas, while shadows consume others. My gaze slides to his mouth, the one that brushed so gently across mine tonight and undid the seams of my reluctance. So gentle despite those two sharp canines I know are hidden beneath those lips.
The hand on my thigh pauses its ascent. “Please don’t stop.” My voice sounds husky with need.
His eyes glint, his other hand rising over my shoulder, curving against my neck beneath my hair until I feel his fingers thread through the mass to curve against my skull.
“I wasn’t planning on it.” With those words, his fingers caressing the back of my skull tighten, claws scraping against my scalp. The sharpness has me gripping the leather beneath me.
He could destroy me. Could rip me apart so easily and in the heat of the moment I almost forgot that, but when his face leans in—I feel him. Feathery soft against my throat as he nuzzles his nose against my neck. Oh God, he feels so fucking good, so soft and yet so hard. I part my legs wider, an invitation and a plea. Touch me. Fill me.
“Needy girl.” His hot breath against my skin has a devastating effect on my core and I buck my hips. “You have taunted me with that question. Do you know that? ‘Why do you only cut two nails, Alessandrio?’” Even in this moment, he taunts me and yet I can’t seem to find it in me to care.
I want this. I fucking want his hands, his mouth, everything on me and I want it so badly I might just beg.
“Please,” I gasp and he pulls back.
“Please what, Olivia?” And I see the slash of that knowing smile.
“Show me why.”
His hand in my hair tightens, forcing my head back further, and I can only see him from the corner of my eye. I try to turn, but his grip is a vice, unrelenting. Then his palm continues to move until I feel a gentle brush against my core. His growl meets my moan and I know he feels the wet silk as it clings to me.
“Is this for me? This wet pussy?” His fingers brush against the silk and I want to scream as they feather across my clit. “It seems that you don’t hate me as much as you claim, princess.” My fingers tighten against the leather and I am sure I will leave indents in it.
“I could say the same for you,” I whisper.
His answering chuckle skitters down my spine as his hand in my hair shifts, forcing me to face him. Alessandrio is a force, terrifying in his power, and yet, as his fingers peel the wet silk of my thong to the side, I am consumed by him. The cool air caresses my hot flesh as I stare up into his eyes, desperate to show him on my face how much I want this. He gets the message. One long finger dips into my core, to the hilt, and my eyes roll. A soft whimper eliciting from my mouth as it draws back only to slide through my flesh, parting me until the tip finds my clit, depositing some of the wetness around that bud of nerves.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
“Look at me,” he commands, finger pausing.
I will my eyes to focus on his shadowed form. His brow is tight, and my eyes trace down his shoulders. They are bunched and taut. Is that him fighting his control? My scalp stings as his fingers tighten again.
“Eyes on me, Liv.” There is that name again.
He has a nickname for me. One that isn’t dripping in condescension. I meet his narrowed gaze and I could drown in this feeling. His fingers begin to move, and they are so at odds with him. He’s all feathery touches, circling around my clit, coiling me tighter. My breaths become quick and rhythmic to each circle, and I want more.
“Fill me. Please,” I beg and his eyebrow raises in answer.
“You want me to fuck your pussy with my fingers?”
“Yes.” The word is a moan.
That teasing, delicious finger slides down, parting me again until it reaches my dripping entrance. He growls, the sound vibrating through the car, through his hands, and I choke on it as those two clawless fingers slide deep. My own fingers are a vice on the seat beneath me as he stretches and fills me. At this angle, I am seated in his palm, my clit pressing against the softest velvet.
“Fuck.” Alessandrio’s voice sounds strained, and I love it.
I love his voice, even when he’s being vile, even when he’s taunting me. He pumps his fingers, the heel of his palm slapping against my clit with the action and I didn’t know it was possible, but my thighs part wider. With his fingers buried deep and his palm cupping me, the friction makes me delirious. The sounds eliciting from my mouth are lusty and unrestrained as we set a rhythm. His fingers slide deep and my hips roll into his palm, meeting his thrust and my eyes cling to him.
“Tell me when you are close,” he whispers, urging me on.
I ride those clawless fingers with an urgency that should make me feel embarrassed, never taking my eyes off his face, even as he watches me. I wish there was better lighting so I could see what those blue eyes look like in this moment, but the thought is tossed out as stars bloom in my vision.
“I—” I rock faster. “Close,” I gasp as something wonderfully delicious begins to build in my hips.
Cold air floods in and I cry out as his hand pulls back, those delicious fingers pulling wetness from my core as they go. I grasp his arm, staring wild-eyed at him as his eyes meet mine in the darkness.
“I won’t be used by a Dolmino,” he growls, slapping my pussy, and making me whimper. “When you come, princess, it will be on my cock and when I decide. I am sure you will remember this moment the next time you decide to speak to the enemy.”
I can only stare blankly, too stunned to even speak. He raises those two fingers to that hateful mouth and sucks. Shame banks the fires of my pleasure. My thighs slam closed as tears prick my eyes and I’m barely unable to comprehend his callousness before tugging my dress down.
“Fuck you,” I choke out, the words strangled and full of shame.
“Soon,” he says with a wicked smile before opening his door and sliding out.
I try to find the stupid door handle, but soon it’s opening, and he’s there, smiling down at me. The urge for violence slams into me. I want to lash out, to cover my shame and humiliation with smart words, but he has rattled me completely. So stupid. I slide from the seat, praying my dress can wipe away any of my weakness from the leather. My feet are unsteady, thighs still shaking from pleasure, and I stumble away from the car. Away from him. I need space, distance, and a place to lick my wounds. Alessandrio moves toward me. I back away, core still clenching, the slickness between my thighs adding fuel to the fire of my anger. With a wicked curving smile that bares those two sharp teeth, he’s passing me and I hear the elevator.
Ding.
My eyes consume the concrete beneath my feet, willing a hole to open up and swallow me.
“Get in,” he orders.
Don’t give him this . I cannot allow him to fuck with me like this. It was a moment of weakness, a moment of curiosity, like when I touched his face. Determined, I raise my head and step into the elevator, but the space is too cramped, his body too close. I drag my eyes up, wanting to show him that despite what just happened, I will not allow him dominion over me. My gaze, however, catches on something. His black dress pants tent, revealing the hard length of him. He’s hard. I tear my eyes away and shift as my core clenches with renewed need. When the elevator doors slide open and I fly out of the too small space, desperate to put some distance between us.
“Think of me.” His voice is my kryptonite.
The insinuation in his words makes the sting in my eyes give way. Tears hot with shame slip down my cheeks. I curse as my heel catches on a piece of debris, and my foot slides precariously as I enter the hallway. I have to steady myself with a hand on the wall. Recovering, I almost run the last steps to my room. Safely inside my only sanctuary, I kick the door closed with my foot and try to catch my breath. I dash my tears and make my way to the bathroom, desperate for a cold shower to cleanse me of this hateful feeling.
Anxiety had me burying my head beneath my pillows in case I heard him bringing that woman in. The thought had me choking on sobs and all the while, my body burned for him, and hungered for that feeling he had me teetering on. Sleep found me utterly humiliated and utterly exhausted.
It was a momentary lapse in poor judgement I remind myself the next morning. It will never happen again. It’s hunger that drives me to open my bedroom door and strain my hearing for any sound of life. I don’t think I could handle seeing Alessandrio right now. He has me at a total disadvantage, a discomforting thought now that he has, although in dim light, seen and touched my most intimate places. Just this thought alone makes my cheeks heat.
Declan and I made ‘love’, as he called it. But it pales in comparison. Declan never stoked the flames in my belly that I’ve felt on multiple occasions with Alessandrio. And what Alessandrio did to me last night? That was just delicious cruelty. Fuck him. The problem with this thought is: I probably would have. If he had said things differently, I would have gladly taken his cock. I may be a prideful fool, but my growing interest in him is becoming more difficult to ignore. The fact that he could so easily bring me to the edge, have me slick and willing on his fingers, be clearly turned on himself, and still not take me? He really truly hates me. It’s the only conclusion I can draw as I walk down the hall.
I eat quietly on the couch pressed against the glass, eyes drifting between the window and the hallway. Anticipation is an uncomfortable thrum in my veins, forcing me to accept the idea that I actually want to see him, forcing me to acknowledge that when I climbed from my bed this morning and wrapped a towel under my arms, I spent a moment running my hands through my hair, trying to sift the blonde curls into a satisfactory lived-in look instead of chaotic bedhead. Silly girl. Time, however, passes and his absence becomes more obvious.
Ding.
I fly over the arm of the couch, backing away as the sound of the elevator doors sliding open fills the silence, setting my teeth on edge. I can’t place the sound that follows, but let out a tense breath as Lorenzo emerges, pushing a hotel trolley like he’s a bellboy.
“Morning,” he says merrily.
“Doing deliveries now?” I gesture at the trolley full of boxes and bags.
“I wear many hats.” He laughs and wheels the trolley closer. “However, this delivery is for you, and by the looks of it, a welcome change.” His eyes shift down to my towel clad form and despite the innocence of his gaze, my cheeks heat. “Clothes,” he adds, seeing my discomfort.
I don’t even try to hide my gasp, or my eagerness as I step toward the trolley.
“For me?” I ask, peeking inside a bag and seeing it full of clothes.
“Now at least you’ll be able to cover up,” says a drawling voice dripping with arrogance.
I don’t look up, despite the immense desire to lay my eyes on him.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Lorenzo.
“You are welcome, but it was his—” he points at the monster behind me— “platinum card I used.”
My elation evaporates, skin prickling with awareness. Alessandrio’s presence draws all the energy, all my energy, towards him. Even now, I feel my skin heat and my core tightening. No. I will not allow him to have that kind of power over me. Quelling my shame and ignoring my body’s response, I straighten and wheel the trolley away from Lorenzo. But I can’t ignore the smash of my heart against my ribs as I find his form in the entrance to the hall.
My nipples tighten, and my core has a pulse that demands to be stroked—or licked. Never have I struggled to school my face into a mask of indifference, but this is my toughest battle yet as I meet his gaze. Alessandrio is naked to the waist, and try as I might, I cannot help taking in the broad a muscled expanse of his chest. He is staring down his nose at me, nostrils flaring with each inhalation as his blue eyes blaze with fire as if he can smell my need . Somewhere in the room, someone clears their throat, and reality rushes back in.
“Thank you,” I huff, narrowing my gaze. “May I please pass?” I ask with a sickly sweet smile.
His face shifts and much like the first time I saw that wolfish smile, my hands tighten around the cold metal of the trolley, the urge to rake my nails down his face just as present. Alessandrio takes a step to the side, gesturing down the hall with a mocking bow.
“Of course, princess.”
Lorenzo gasps behind me, and with spiteful words hanging on my tongue, I don’t stoop to Alessandrio’s level. I take the high road and pass without a backward glance, letting the desire to see what is in the bags and boxes fuel my movements.