Chapter 27 #2
Her pupils bloom and her cheeks flush. I can tell my words traveled to a sensitive part of her.
I turn to the waiter. “Give these bags to one of my men and tell them I sent you. Explain exactly where the food is to be delivered. And then bring me an outfit Miss Castellano can change into. Anything you’ve got.
” Anything to replace that scrap of fabric that leaves nothing to the imagination. “And make it a size four.”
The waiter stands to attention. “Yes sir, I’ll do it right now.”
I release her chin and she swallows as the door closes. Her bottom lip shivers before she bites down on it with her teeth. “I guess you know women's bodies pretty well.”
I stroke my hand around her nape and push my fingers through her sleek, dark hair, tugging her toward me. “I know yours.”
She scowls. “You’ve only had your hands on it twice—the time in your apartment doesn’t count. Twice, Benito.”
I fist a handful of her hair and smile. “Yeah, but I’ve watched you for six months. I know what fucking size you are.”
I hold her stare, daring her to argue but she doesn’t. She just lifts herself onto her toes and presses her sweet little mouth to mine. Oh God, this simple soft touch undoes me, and I have to force myself to pull away.
Only a minute or two later, the waiter returns with a bag containing a pair of gray sweatpants and a t-shirt.
Luckily for him, he’s left by the time we’ve opened it and discovered the contents.
I might have wrung his fucking neck. My phone rings before I can go after him.
It’s Beppe with a report on the rogue soldiers in Newark.
I keep it short, not wanting anything to cut into this time I have with Tess.
When I locate her in the bedroom, she’s already changed into the outfit from hell—or, more likely, the outfit from the depths of some lost and found laundry bin.
Fresh hate for the cretin who thought this would be acceptable fills my mouth.
Without saying a word, I turn and leave the room.
“Where are you going?” she calls after me, and I don’t miss the thread of fear in her tone. I must look ready to kill someone.
“To run you a bath.”
“Why? Do I smell?”
I walk back to her wiping a smile from my face with a calloused thumb. When she tilts her face up toward me I have to fight to keep my lips from consuming her.
“Tess,” I say, with gentle seriousness, “I made you crawl across a floor. I fucked you over a balcony and filled you with my come. I managed to get you dressed in some cheap sweats that belong to someone else and possibly haven’t been washed...”
Her eyes round, her lips part and her pupils widen. Each time she blinks, a shot of hot blood is mainlined to my dick.
“You deserve perfection. Let me give it to you.”
I leave her standing, speechless, in the center of the room while I run her a bath, then I lead her to it, help her undress and leave her to soak while I make a few calls.
First up, Cristiano.
“Hey…” No capacity for pleasantries because I know where they’ll lead and I’m not in the mood for being teased over a girl. “Is Trilby with you?”
Cristiano: “Yeah.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, but I have a message to pass on.”
Trilby takes the phone. “Benny? What’s going on? Have you seen Tess?”
I hear Cristiano groan in the background.
“Yes. She’s with me. She’s safe. Can you let your father know?”
“Of course. Where are you?”
“The city,” I reply. If Cristiano finds out I’ve booked us into the most expensive hotel in Manhattan—into the penthouse no less—I’ll never hear the end of it. “She’ll be home Monday.”
“In three days?”
“Yeah.” That’s how long I’m keeping her. “Anyway, that was all. Thanks Tril.”
I hang up before she can interrogate me any further. Next up, the hotel concierge.
“Signor Bernadi, what can I do for you?”
“You can do a damn sight better than some tatty sweats for my girlfriend,” I bite out. “Get me twenty stunning outfits for a woman—all designer, all size four. By morning.” I remember Contessa’s palette of choice. “And make them all black.”
I hang up and stare at the phone. Did I just say girlfriend? The fuck?
Why?
My back thuds against the wall as I try to decipher how I feel about what I just called her. I’ve never had a girlfriend before. I’ve never wanted one, for God’s sake. Aren’t people supposed to have conversations about that kind of thing? Come to a mutual agreement? How the hell do I know?
My breaths slow as I taste the word on my tongue. It’s not all that bad. It’s not pungent. Then I imagine if Tess weren’t my girlfriend. That would make her a free agent—available. And she is not available. She’s mine.
I bite down on a silent growl. She’s fucking mine.
When I return to the bathroom, my breath escapes me. Contessa is sitting up, covered in a mass of bubbles, shaving her legs with a razor. Screw the crawling. This is possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I stare at her, unable to tear my eyes from her soapy skin and slippery curves.
“Where did you find that?” I rasp, nodding to the razor.
She doesn’t look up, which means she knows I’ve been standing in the doorway watching her for a full minute. “Cabinet,” she smiles. It’s then I notice wet footprints across the carpet.
“Thought I told you to relax.”
She lifts her lashes slowly. “I want to look nice for you.”
My chest expands and my jaw unhinges. “You always look nice.” I kneel down by the tub. “I don’t care if you have hair on your legs.”
She purses her lips. “I do.”
She drags the blade up her soft skin one last time, rinses it in the water then rests it on a soap dish. Then she faces me, a blush crawling up her cheeks. “Can I get out now?”
“One second.” I stand and pull a fluffy towel from the rail and hold it out for her to step into, then I gently pat her dry, all over. There’s a guest robe hanging in the closet so I fetch that and wrap it around her.
I notice her glance toward a tray of oils and lotions.
“Can I choose one for you?” I ask.
“Um…” she looks unsure. “Okay.”
“Go into the master suite and sit on the bed.”
She does as I say while I peruse the various bottles and creams. I uncork a few and smell the fragrances, settling on one that promises to seduce the senses – a heady mix of Rose, Jasmine and Neroli.
I carry it to the bedroom and try not to react at the way she’s draped herself over the comforter, the robe splayed to the sides, showing off her flawless skin and lean limbs.
“Are you trying to ruin me, Contessa?”
She shakes her head slowly. “I want you to ruin me.”
Okay, so my dick just swelled to twice its size.
I’m still fully clothed as I prowl up the bed and straddle her with my knees. Her eyes sparkle with challenge.
“You’re hardly wearing this, brat,” I say, giving a cursory glance to the bathrobe. “Let’s just take the whole thing off, shall we?”
She hooks her eyes on me and wiggles out of the bathrobe, tossing it to the side of the bed. “We’re back to ‘brat’ I see.”
I tip some of the liquid into my hand and rub my palms together to warm it. “Well, if the shoe fits…” I smirk. “Now lay back.”
She lays flat on the bed and I place my oiled hands on her shoulders.
A long languid sigh rolls off her tongue and her lids close.
I stroke the oil down her arms, kneading her tight muscles.
She must be dehydrated because her skin is soaking up the oil faster than I can apply it.
I move my fingers to her collarbone and massage the taut chest muscles, then—fuck it—I just dribble the oil across her breasts and stomach.
She hums her approval so I set to work. I rub the oil gently into her breasts, quickly learning how she likes them to be handled—what movements earn a sharp intake of breath or an exquisite sigh.
I then move to her stomach feeling the curve of her ribs and the dip of her muscles.
I bypass her pelvic area, placing a chaste kiss on the small mound of hair, then work the oil into her legs.
Only once I’ve coated her front completely do I order her to roll onto her stomach.
She obliges, then turns to look over her shoulder.
“I think I prefer ‘girlfriend’,” she says.
My entire body stills, my hands paused on her shoulder blades. “You heard me.”
“Yes,” she says in a whisper. “I liked it.”
My cocks grinds against her ass and relief fills me. “You want to be my girlfriend?”
“I think I’d prefer it to being your brat.”
I bite my lip and rub myself up against her. “You’ll always be my brat, Tess.”
She smiles then buries her head into the comforter. Well, I guess that’s the mutual agreement box ticked.
I coat her in the oil and massage it into her skin, but I don’t take my time about it.
My cock knows where it wants to be, and I don’t want to waste another minute.
I unzip my slacks, part her thighs with my knee and push myself inside her.
She releases a long, heavy whimper and her walls clamp around my dick, tightening my balls.
She lifts her bottom, taking my cock deeper, and a warmth drenches me in tingles. I lower my stomach to her back and settle in, driving into her slow and deep until she’s begging me with her breaths.
I flex my hips, hitting that tender spot inside her over and over until she screams into the pillow. Then I shove forward one last time, spilling myself into her thoroughly. I rest my forehead between her shoulder blades and release a blissed-out moan. “Yeah, you’re my girlfriend.”
The words come out hoarse and fractured and foreign, but they taste fucking pretty on my tongue.