Chapter 5 #2
The silver blade glints in the dim light as he raises it into the air, and a sharp, piercing scream cuts through the shadows. It’s only when Alessandro’s head snaps up and his dark eyes lock onto mine that I realize the scream came from me.
He’s seen me. Shit.
I turn to run, panic roaring through my veins as I hear his heavy footsteps tracking me. I quicken my pace, lunging back toward the stairwell. I’ve barely reached the first landing when a strong, ruthless hand fist my hair, yanking me backward into his solid, hard body.
The impact hits like concrete, and my body betrays me yet again, flaring with an instant, unwanted spark of desire at his touch.
He slams me against the wall, pinning me down with his weight. Lowering his head, he inhales sharply against my neck, breathing me in before his teeth sink into the soft flesh of my earlobe in a sharp, possessive bite.
I whimper, my hands bracing against the wall.
"Why are you always exactly where I am, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his hot breath ghosting over my skin. "A man might start to think you're obsessed with him. Like you're only playing the reluctant bride."
I swallow down the lump in my throat, glaring up at him through the dark. "You wish."
A low, filthy laugh rumbles in his chest. I feel it against my back and almost arch into him.
“You know what I wish?” He trails his nose up the column of my neck.
“That we finish what we started that first night. You on my bed as I sink my cock into you. Filling your stubborn mouth with my cum and watching you swallow with tears in your eyes. Then you’ll thank me for letting you worship me like that. ”
A shudder runs through my body at his words. So vulgar. So dirty and depraved, so why am I responding like this? Why does my body feel warm and needy and hungry?
“You want it, don’t you?” His words breathe over my ear again. “I can tell.”
My blood boils at his arrogance, and before I can stop myself, I spit directly in his face.
The silence that follows is suffocating. I brace myself, my heart hammering against my ribs as I wait for the blow, expecting him to slap me or inflict some brutal punishment for the ultimate insult.
Instead, Alessandro smiles.
It’s a dark, dangerous expression that promises ruin. Using the grip he still has on my hair, he yanks my head back, forcing my mouth open, and crashes his lips down onto mine.
I melt into him instantly. The kiss is rough, angry, and completely uncivilized, fueled by the raw danger of what I just witnessed and an attraction I would never admit.
As he devours my mouth, he keeps his hand tangled viciously in my hair while his other hand roams my body without a shred of shame. A sudden warmth blooms between my legs, and out of pure instinct, I squeeze my thighs together, a helpless moan escaping down his throat.
Alessandro notices. He traces his hand down my torso, slipping it under the hem of my skirt until his palm hits my locked thighs. He bites down hard on my bottom lip, and when I gasp at the sharp sting, he plunges his tongue inside, reclaiming my mouth completely.
He slaps the side of my thigh, a sharp, commanding strike that makes my legs fly apart in shock. Before I can recover, his fingers press directly against the crotch of my panties. The fabric is already soaked with my wetness, and a wave of deep embarrassment hits me.
God.
When did I become so wanton?
I try to pull away, to break the kiss and hide my face, but the punishing grip in my hair holds me mercilessly in place.
With a slow, heavy pressure, he rubs his thumb over my clit through the damp silk.
A loud moan rips from my chest, my knees turning to water as I sag helplessly against his solid frame.
He traces deliberate, torturous circles over the sensitive peak, and pleasure rockets up my body in ways I’ve never felt before.
No, that’s a lie, my mind screams through the fog. I have felt this. On that fateful night under a mask, when he tasted me right there with his mouth. He is the only person who has ever made me feel this undone.
Suddenly, the friction stops. Before I can even register the loss, he hooks one finger into the elastic edge of my panties and drags them ruthlessly down my legs.
I drag my mouth away from his, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
“What are you doing?” I demand, keeping my feet firmly planted on the floor, flatly refusing to step out of the silk.
Alessandro doesn't even argue. He takes his hand off my hair, wraps a single, iron forearm around my waist, and lifts me like I weigh less than a feather.
With his free hand, he easily pulls the panties completely off my feet. Mortification envelopes me the second I see the dark, heavy wetness staining them.
Before I can even utter a word of protest, he brings the silk to his face. He buries his nose deep into them, closing his eyes for a heavy, silent moment as he inhales my scent. When he opens his eyes, they are completely dark. Without a word, he stuffs the damp silk into his pants pocket.
I gape at him, my jaw practically hitting the floor. “You’re crazy.”
“Tonight,” he murmurs, leaning in until his lips almost brush mine, “I want you to masturbate. And you’re going to do it while thinking about me, the man who now owns your life.”
Then, he turns away.
He’s about to return to the garage when the distinct, echoing sound of heavy footsteps rattles the stairs above us.
Alessandro freezes. In a split second, his hand snatches my wrist, dragging me down the remaining steps of the stairway.
He pushes open a small maintenance latch, shoving us both under the cramped compartment beneath the stairs.
It’s a suffocatingly small space, pitch black and smelling of dust and old concrete.
I feel the first sharp claws of panic start to dig into my chest, the walls pressing in on me.
I force my eyes shut and swallow hard, desperately fighting to stay composed.
I refuse to give Alessandro any more ammunition to use against me.
Thankfully, whoever it is passes quickly, their heavy boots fading into the distance until silence returns to the stairwell.
Alessandro kicks the latch open and steps out with me. The moment I’m free of the dark box, I take a deep, desperate breath of fresh air.
“I have to take care of something,” he says flippantly, turning his back on me as if he doesn’t currently have my wet underwear in his pocket.
I know exactly what he’s talking about—the Kuznetsov man he was about to stab to death just minutes ago.
“You go up,” he orders.
I tilt my chin up, defiance flaring through my fear. “You don’t tell me what to do.”
Alessandro stops dead in his tracks. Slowly, he narrows his eyes and takes one predatory step back toward me.
A sharp shriek escapes my throat, and before he can even reach out, I spin on my heel and sprint up the stairs, never once looking back.