Chapter 54 – Vincenzo
From the excitement in her voice, it sounded like her third week at work had gone better than the other two combined. And those were stunning successes from the reports I’d received, including the ones she gave me every night when we talked on the phone.
I smiled against the device, tapping the wireless gun against my knee. “I’ll see you soon, Mandy.”
Amanda huffed into the phone. “You said it was a weekend trip.”
“Ah, do you miss me?” I watched the deadbolt on the door turn.
“Yeah, well, newlywed and all,” Amanda muttered.
Her yelp of surprise when she stepped through the loft door and saw me sitting across the room was sweet music to my ear. She looked at her phone, then back at me, brows drawing together as she attempted to scowl.
“That was a rotten trick,” she muttered, putting her phone in her handbag.
I set mine down on the floor. At the sound of their mama’s voice, the twin menaces yowled from the other room. Amanda took a step toward the workout room, but my voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Don’t.”
Amanda crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her tits up.
A bolt of heat shot straight through my dick at the look of defiance on her face.
I shifted forward in the brand new armchair, elbows on my knees.
Tonight wasn’t going to be gentle. It was going to be a lesson, one that pushed Amanda to her limits.
To explore the boundaries of our chemistry and see if she was really able to play out the fantasies she read about.
“Close the door, Amanda.”
One dainty heel kicked out, and the door slammed shut. “Next?”
She was baiting me.
The high powered lawyer was back in her element. The phoenix had risen from the ashes, and while that was a victory in the outside world, here in the space between us, I was going to teach this beauty who was in control.
“Strip.”
Amanda dropped her purse. She planted her hands on her hips. “What game are you playing, Enzo?”
A game…yes, that was what this seemed like. Under the guise of fun and pleasure was a deeper struggle. One that needed to be faced before we moved forward in our relationship.
“I said, strip.”
The reason I’d gone away for business hadn’t been because anything needed my immediate attention.
I wanted Amanda to have space. To feel like she was thriving, especially since she was starting her new job.
When we were around one another, we hovered—mostly naked—on top of each other.
She needed to find her footing. That was who she was.
It was the right call. So every few days, I left her, safe and secure in my city, and watched from a distance when possible.
In the space of a few weeks, she’d fucking flourished.
Her father hadn’t bothered her—my power and influence made sure of that.
And as far as the nightmare? When I demanded a delay, a skirmish arose in Eastern Europe, and I was granted more time than we could have arranged.
Loring’s debtor was coming. Someday. But for now, we existed in a happy little pause between storms.
And now in her element, the challenge was back in Amanda’s eyes.
It made me burn with pride to see it.
Slowly, she kicked out of her shoes. Her caramel-colored trousers dropped to the floor next.
The jacket and blouse followed until she stood only in her panties and bra.
I bit the inside of my cheek and fought the urge to rise.
To go to her. To throw her over my shoulder and haul her sweet ass into the bedroom.
I gave her an appreciative look. She’d been eating well. The last few weeks made marked improvement in her color, and her flesh was starting to fill her out once more. I never wanted to see her so stressed that she became a shell again.
“There.” Amanda dropped the bra and kicked the underwear off her ankle. “Next?”
“Such a fucking smart mouth,” I growled and flexed my arms. The stitches were out, the flesh knit back together, though the scar wasn’t pretty to look at. “I think it needs to be filled.”
The soft gasp of anticipation shot through the air. My dick strained against the zipper, eager to participate.
Amanda took a step forward, but I held up a hand in warning. “On your knees.”
A laugh blew out her nose, but she obeyed. So complacent. She thought she was still in charge.
“Crawl.”
That order had her rearing back. Rebellion flashed in those bright blue eyes. She sat on her heels and crossed her arms over her chest again. This time, there was nothing hiding the way her tits pillowed, full and enticing on her chest.
“What the hell, Enzo? I’m not—”
“Crawl, fiore, or I’ll come over there and spank your ass until it’s red and tender.” My voice was ice. Hard and unyielding. “You won’t be able to sit for a week,” I promised.
For a moment, she considered me. I noted that she didn’t immediately balk at the idea of a spanking for punishment, and that made me groan under my breath.
Amanda dropped to her hands. Slowly, swaying her body, she made a show of crossing the distance on all fours.
I tried not to die inside at the sight.
My blood turned feverish with heat. Air clawed down my throat in uneven bursts. Every muscle strained to hold myself back. The sight of my wife on her hands and knees, prowling toward me, was forever burned in my memory. I would take that image to my grave.
Right before she reached for me, I barked, “Stop.”
She did. Her lips, painted a crimson red, twitched in a smirk.
I leaned forward, gripping her chin in a vice, and pushed my thumb against those pillowy red lines.
Paint smeared in a messy smudge over her chin, up on her cupid’s bow.
The sight had my balls drawing up tight and heavy, ready to explode in my pants like some untried boy.
“Suck,” I rasped and pushed my thumb into her mouth.
The torture was exquisite.
Her cheeks hollowed out as she sucked hard on my finger. Her tongue swirled over it, stroking the way she would if it was my cock. I saw stars. I wanted my wife’s mouth wrapped around my dick just as badly as I wanted to sink it into her tight, wet pussy.
But first, there was another matter.
I pulled the strip of silk fabric from my pocket. Keeping my grip on her jaw, my thumb in her mouth, I rose and moved behind her. I tugged her upright, the smooth, lean back pressed against my front. Amanda shimmied, rubbing herself against me, tormenting my cock where it dug into flesh.
“Patience,” I murmured, dragging my thumb from her mouth. My fingers skated down her throat, squeezing tight for the briefest of seconds. “You’re going to show me how good you can be.”
The sound that escaped her could only be described as a mewling, strangled gasp.
“How much you trust me,” I added. “Because you do trust me, don’t you, fiore mio?”
My flower nodded. She swallowed hard, throat dragging against my palm.
I draped the cloth over her eyes, tying it tight. “Lay down.”
I pressed on her shoulders, guiding her to the floor. Her breath hitched as I settled my weight on her back. Enough to keep her from escaping, but not the whole. No, I wouldn’t crush her. I splayed her left hand on the ground, pinning it in place.
The whirr of the gun made her jolt. “Enzo!”
“Relax, it will all be over soon.”
“Vincenzo Luca Messina, I swear to—” The threat turned into a cry as the needle bit into her skin. “What the hell?!”
I flexed my grip, keeping her still by sheer force of will. It was harder to guide the gun than I anticipated. It wasn’t the first time I’d used one, but my guard was up. I didn’t want to screw up her virgin skin. My mark needed to be precise.
“Relax,” I urged.
“Enzo, it hurts,” she protested, and I hated the note of pain in her voice.
“Sshhh, sweet girl, just a minute more.” I guided the needle in another pass, making the shape bolder.
Amanda whimpered, jerking against my hold. But her body was tiny compared to mine.
I lifted the gun, tipping my head to examine the mark.
Right there, on her ring finger, my brand was inked in her skin.
“Beautiful,” I murmured, flicking the gun off. “You did so well, fiore mio.”
I moved back. Amanda lost no time ripping the cloth from her eyes. She glared at the mark.
“You tattooed me!” she raged.
I rose and placed the gun back in the bag.
“This isn’t funny—” She shook her hand. “It’s a—a—why an E?”
She glared at the digit, then lifted her eyes to pin me with her wrath.
“I’ll buy you a ring, Mandy, but this is something that can never be taken from you.” I crouched to cup her chin again, but she scrambled back. Her chest heaved as conflicting emotions warred on her face.
“An E?” she spat. “What’s that mean?”
A flicker of hurt thrummed in my chest. “Isn’t it…obvious?”
“No!” she wailed.
My shoulders slumped. My mark. My woman. It made sense in my mind.
“Vincenzo, I can’t believe you did this.” Her lip trembled. “I hate needles.”
As she spoke, my left hand stretched out to her, but I stopped before I touched her. I flipped my palm over, letting her see the matching mark on my finger.
An M.
An M to match her E.
But she was too mad to care.
Porca miseria…. I messed up.