11. Ten
Ten
Sienna
“ A aaaaaaaaaah!”
Maddy’s high-pitched scream fills the air as she darts through the kitchen, her little legs pumping furiously, her bright pink dress flapping behind her. Hot on her heels is Flynn, his hand smeared with white frosting from their cupcake adventure, a glob of it smeared in his dark hair.
“Guys, be careful,” I call out, knowing full well they’re too caught up in the moment to heed my warning. I chuckle as I scrub the kitchen counter, now resembling a chocolate war zone. There are blobs of frosting all over the counter, and a box of sprinkles has been knocked over, spilling little sugar balls everywhere, creating a colorful mess. The kitchen is a disaster, but it was worth it.
After knowing Flynn for over two years, today is the first time he’s shown genuine happiness. At school, he’s always scowling, hostile to everyone but his twin sister; here at home, he’s just a sweet little boy, as he should be.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a movement and see Fabrizio standing there. He doesn’t say a word, and I am momentarily surprised that he is back already. My heart skips a beat as he approaches, his presence both intimidating and alluring.
Damn him for being so hot.
I don’t know what to expect when he stands before me and peers down with an indefinable glint in his eyes. Maybe scolding words for pulling his house into chaos? So many possibilities with such an unpredictable man. Instead, he puts his finger under my chin, tilting my head upward, forcing me to look into his eyes as he runs a thumb across my lips, wiping off a smudge of frosting from the corner of my mouth. His eyes remain trained on mine as he lifts his finger to his mouth, wetting his lips before sucking the frosting from his thumb. “Delicious,” he says, his voice low.
“Daddy!” Maddy’s high-pitched voice interrupts the moment, and abruptly Fabrizio steps back, bringing some physical distance between us as his children barrel into him. “We made cupcakes!” Maddy beams up at her father and then at me.
“It’s nearly dinner time, and what’s the rule? No sweets before dinner,” Fabrizio reminds them, and Maddy pouts. Her Dad laughs. “And I think you both need a bath before we eat.”
By the time the twins are bathed and fed, I’ve managed to restore some order to the living room and bring the kitchen back to its original state.
With the kids engrossed in their cartoons, I finish cleaning the last bit of the chocolate mess we left. Just before bedtime, I head to the living room, but Fabrizio intercepts me.
“I’ll handle this,” he says, exhaustion evident in his eyes. “You may enjoy the rest of your night. Since I will be gone for a few days, this might be your last chance at a bit of rest.” He picks up Flynn, cradling him and giving him a sweet kiss on the forehead before carrying him upstairs. The sight tugs at my heartstrings, stirring maternal instincts and making him even more attractive. When Fabrizio first touched me, I vowed never to succumb to his charm or his domineering nature. But I fear I’ve already broken that promise.
Armed with a bottle of red wine and a glass, I retreat to the bathroom for some much-needed relaxation. Maddy and Flynn are delightful, but entertaining two small children all day is utterly exhausting. As I run a bath, I undress and pour myself a generous glass of wine. Lowering myself into the hot water, I feel the tension in my muscles melt away. But my moment of peace is short-lived. As soon as I close my eyes, vivid images of Fabrizio and last night’s events flood my mind. Every detail, every touch, every look makes it impossible to relax. I take a large gulp of wine, hoping it will help calm me, but it’s futile. The instant my eyes close, his face appears, his intense gaze igniting a fire within me. Almost involuntarily, my hand glides down my body. I trace a path, savoring the sensation of my fingers on my skin, pausing to tease my nipple before continuing downward. My breath hitches as I slip two fingers inside, moving them rhythmically, waves of pleasure coursing through me. My lips part, and I can’t suppress the moan that escapes, his name tumbling from my mouth in a breathless whisper.
“You called me?”
“Ah!” Startled by his voice, I sit up, water splashing wildly all around me. In a hasty, almost comical attempt to preserve some dignity, I cross my arms over my chest.
Fabrizio stands there, head tilted, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Were you enjoying yourself?” he asks, teasingly.
Clinging to my body for modesty, I watch him pick up a towel and approach the tub slowly, stopping in front of me. His silent command is clear, and I feel more exposed than ever. As I step out of the tub, droplets of water running down my naked body, I feel vulnerable. Fabrizio gestures for me to turn around, and I comply, standing with my back to him as he dries me off devastatingly gently. He wraps me in the soft towel, pulling me close and inhaling my scent before leading me to the sink. Gripping the counter, I stare down at it as Fabrizio removes the towel. Goosebumps erupt as his soft lips contact my neck, his smooth tongue and hot breath sending liquid heat to my core.
“Open your eyes, look at yourself in the mirror,” he orders, his voice low and husky. I take a deep breath before obeying. Fabrizio’s reflection stares back at me, my face flushed as his hand glides down my body. Gently, he caresses my breasts, then pinches my nipple. “Did you touch yourself thinking about me? About all the things I’m going to do to you?”
“No.” I throw my head back against his shoulder as sensations surge through my body.
“Liar,” he accuses, and my cheeks flush with heat.
“Huh.” His light slap on my pussy is not painful but unexpected. Abruptly, he turns me around and lifts me onto the counter. His gaze travels down my body and stops between my legs.
“Such a liar,” he says, amusement in his eyes. With a wicked grin, he leans in, pressing his lips to mine before parting them with his tongue. His tongue swirls around mine, dominating my mouth. I moan into the kiss as he flicks his finger over my nipple, making me feel breathless. Blindly, I start to pull on his shirt, struggling with the buttons. When I manage to open a few, I yank it off, probably popping some buttons. He growls as I rake my nails down his chest, and he fists my hair, pulling me closer. The feel of his skin under my fingers and his tongue exploring my mouth is spectacular. There’s no denying what we both need and crave. I struggle with his belt, finally freeing it from the clasp. Unfastening and unzipping his pants is easier, and with a tug, they slide down his legs, followed by his boxers. Lightly, I swirl my finger around his cockhead. The sounds he makes are animalistic as he sucks on my tongue. I wrap my hand around his erection, squeezing as I slide my fingers up and down. Suddenly he pulls away, eyes wild with need, breath labored. “Bed. Now.”
His grip on my wrist is firm as he leads me to the bedroom. Unlike the previous night, there’s no rough toss onto the bed, no immediate pounce. Tonight, there’s a deliberate slowness that heightens the anticipation.
He positions me on the bed, his hands on my hips as he positions himself between my spread legs. A shiver runs down my spine as I wait for his next move. The first touch of his tongue is electrifying. He swirls the tip around my clit in slow, maddening circles, and I buck off the bed, stars exploding behind my eyelids. I can’t hold back the moans as he repeats the motion, his tongue lapping at me. A primal sound rips from my throat as he sucks my clit into his mouth, his tongue thrusting inside me with a rhythm that has me trembling. “Oh, fuck,” I gasp, fingers digging into the sheets as I writhe beneath him. Fabrizio’s fingers brush up and down my pussy, teasing until I’m nearly screaming with need. Then, he pushes two fingers inside, my muscles clamping down as he pumps them in and out. All the while, his mouth never stops, his tongue flicking over my clit as he fingers me to the edge of oblivion. I try to beg for more, I try to form the words, but my brain is mush, unable to do anything but feel as the most intense orgasm builds inside me.
“Come for me,” he growls against my wet flesh, sending a fresh wave of pleasure through me.
Before he even finishes the words, my body shudders with the force of my release. “Oh, oh, oh,” I chant, barely audible over the roar of blood in my ears as I climax harder than ever. I’ve barely come down from the high when Fabrizio is looming over me, his cock thrusting inside me with powerful strokes. He pulls out to the tip, then slams back, repeating until I’m gasping for breath. I thought multiple orgasms were a myth perpetuated by the porn industry, but another climax builds, my body tightening as I come again, fireworks behind my eyelids as I shatter beneath him. I can barely breathe, the sensations too much to bear. Relief floods me as Fabrizio’s body tenses, his head thrown back as he grunts through his release, his cock pulsing as he fills me with his cum. His ragged breathing grazes my face, his lips brushing my cheek lightly. It’s a touch so light I can’t decipher if it’s intentional or merely an accident.
Once more, there are no whispered conversations, no gentle caresses or sweet nothings exchanged between us. This time, I expected it. The nature of what just occurred between us doesn’t matter; the level of passion we shared is purely physical, carnal, devoid of any deeper connection. Each encounter with him only solidifies my understanding that he perceives me as his possession, an object to be used and discarded as he pleases.
Despite my lack of desire to engage with him on an emotional or romantic level, I cannot ignore the subtle sting that lingers, a small but persistent ache in my chest. It is a feeling I quickly suppress, forcing myself to remain grounded in the present moment.
I’m acutely aware of the raw energy defining our interactions. His touch is demanding, his presence overpowering, and though I know our relationship is transactional, a tiny part of me yearns for more. The room falls silent, the heavy hammering of my heart echoing in my ears. When Fabrizio finishes dressing, he turns to me, eyes lingering on my naked body. “I’ll be leaving shortly; Oliver and Vance will stay with you.”
I sit up, pulling the sheet to cover myself. “When will you be back?” I ask, hating the vulnerability that seeps in my voice.
“I don’t know yet. A few days, maybe a week,” he responds dismissively. I open my mouth to ask where he’s going, but his glare stops me; it’s none of my business. And even if I’d ask, I wouldn’t get an answer. He turns and heads to the door, pausing to look back.
“Although I have a certain understanding of your current situation, I expect you to be on your best behavior.” It’s not a question, and I’m unsure if he expects an answer, so I nod, throat too dry to speak. As he leaves, I collapse on the bed, my body still humming from my orgasms. I know I need to be careful around Fabrizio, to guard my heart. But as I drift off to sleep, it’s his touch and taste that linger on my mind, a siren’s call I fear I won’t be able to resist.