12. CHIARA
The sun has barely risen when I wake to find a floor-length gown hanging over the door frame of my walk-in closet. I gape at it in awe, throwing the blankets back and trudging across the room while also irritated with myself for not noticing when someone entered my room.
My fingers brush over the gorgeous champagne silk, and butterflies take flight in my stomach.
I swallow hard, confusion claiming me.
That first time we were together, he told me he would fuck me until I forgot why I was here, until I believed I wanted this. And goddamn it, I think he might have succeeded. He’s fucked with my head, calling me Sweet Angel, and treating me like the queen I always wanted to be. What woman wouldn’t want this? Living rent-free in a beautiful mansion, deep in the mountains, and far away from the harsh realities of real life. I have it all here, the perfect life, and he’s offering it to me on a silver platter.
Everything except his cousin, of course.
All I have to do is accept it.
He warns me about his dark side if I should refuse him, that it would be something I could never recover from. I won’t lie, I trust him when he says that he’s a man of his word. He always seems to follow through.
He has me in knots, so damn confused about what I want. I should be trying to find a way out of here, but all I want is to see the approval in his eyes when I fuck him and hear those sweet words whispered in that captivating accent.
What the fuck is wrong with me? When did I stop seeing him as my captor and start seeing him as the man I want to please?
My gaze sails over the gown, taking in the plunging neckline and the hip-high split that will show off my legs perfectly. And all I can do is wonder why he claimed me as his own. Even on the balcony after his meeting, he said no other man would ever touch me again, but if I’m just a toy, why take me as a date to a family event? I can’t claim that I know anything about the ins and outs of mafia life, but wouldn’t bringing me as a date make a statement? I just wish I knew what.
All I know is that being here with him is a million times better than any other outcome that could have come from being auctioned off in that warehouse. I should thank him for saving me, but he insists he’s no hero. If only he could see it the way I do. He offered me salvation, and while he might think of it as satisfying his wicked needs, I see it as a chance to live.
Striding across my room, I gaze out my big window that looks over the back of the property, admiring how the soft hues of gold shine across the mountaintops. It’s dazzling, unbelievably gorgeous, and a sight I could happily wake up to every day of my life. It sure as hell beats waking up to the sound of my landlord banging on the door, demanding rent.
I slept like a baby last night, completely satisfied. Despite the fear of someone unwelcome sneaking into my room and the comments about bearing Killian an heir, I couldn’t help the need to step into the shower and clean up. Now, barely twelve hours later, the need to have him inside me is stronger than ever before.
He said he was going out to attend to business this morning?.?.?. whatever business that might be. But I wonder if he needs a wake-up call.
That first time we were together was his opportunity to exercise control over me. Hell, every moment since the warehouse he’s had his chance. I’ve pushed the limits with him and tested the waters with just how far I can assert my will. But I’m not the type to simply allow a man to rule over my world. I’m far too independent for that. If this little arrangement is going to work out, I need a better understanding of my boundaries, and I need to have some control. Even if it’s just a little.
He got to dictate how he was going to take my body, but now it’s my turn.
If he gets to take me however and whenever he pleases, then he better be prepared for me to demand the same in return.
Before I’ve even had a chance to truly think this through, I’m marching out of my bedroom, uncaring about the fact that beneath my silk robe, I’m still as naked as the day I was born.
Finding his room, I grip the door handle and slowly push it open before peering in. The sun rises on the opposite side of the property, so it’s still mostly covered in darkness, but there’s just enough morning light for me to make out his sleeping body dead center on his bed.
His arm is propped behind his head, and while he’s sound asleep, his usually tense jaw hangs slack, and his serious expression has melted into a soft, boyish innocence. During the day, there are deep lines in his forehead and his posture is cold and rigid, but there have been a few times when I’ve caught him watching me with his guard down. He doesn’t look at me with the same disgusting disregard that I received from the other men at the auction. There is a connection between us, something that pulls him in, an odd infatuation, and as long as he’ll have me, I’m willing to stay.
Swallowing over the growing lump of unease caught in my throat, I let out a shaky breath and make my move. My hands shake, but I forge ahead, determined to make my point.
Climbing the four steps up to his bed, I hit the platform before slipping out of my robe and slowly sliding in beside him. I’m certain that if he were to wake up right now, this wouldn’t go down well. My Romanian mystery stirs as the bed dips under my weight, and I hold my breath, trying not to move as he settles back into a deep sleep.
Scooching closer to him, I inhale deeply, letting his magical scent wrap around me.
I don’t know what it is about this man. Perhaps it’s the knowledge that he could kill me without mercy, but he’s so enraptured by me that he won’t.
Fuck, I can’t think like that. Or can I?
Testing the waters, my hand drops to his bare chest with a feather-soft touch, and I take in his handsome face to find him staring right back at me.
Oh shit.
I freeze, waiting for him to bitch me out, but he doesn’t say a word as his eyes remain locked on me. If he didn’t want my touch, he’s the type of man to throw me out of here so damn fast, I’d never see it coming. The fact that he hasn’t stopped me suggests he’s down to see where this goes.
So, I do what any other insane girl would do and trail my hand down his body, holding my breath as I sail over the tight ridges of his abs until my hand closes around his thick cock.
I gently stroke him, my fingers roaming over his velvety skin, and not a moment later, he’s rock-fucking-hard. I lick my lips, excitement drumming through my veins. Taking every ounce of determination I possess, I straddle his hips and lower myself onto his cock.
I suck in a breath through my teeth, hissing as he stretches me wider than ever. He feels so deep at this angle that it’s almost painful, but I’m not about to bitch out. He keeps one hand propped behind his head, and his other comes up to rest on my hip.
His hand is so big and strong across my body that he could throw me off him without even trying. But he doesn’t. He just watches me, keeping those dark eyes locked on mine. The tension and electricity grow between us until I finally start to move, and that tension morphs into undeniable pleasure.
I rock my hips, taking him deep, grinding and moving over him. I take every bit of pleasure from him, and when his other hand comes to my hip and tries to raise me up to take control, I smack his hand away. “No,” I growl, letting him hear the authority in my tone. “You’ve had your chance to fuck me the way you please, and now it’s my turn. Either lay back and take it, or I’ll leave you high and dry. Take your pick, bossman.”
He just stares at me, and as my heart races, I do what I can to mask my fear.
What the hell was I thinking? I’m done for.
He’s going to curl his hand around my throat and suffocate me with his dick still inside of me. The uncontrollable jolting of my body giving up would probably be enough to get him off.
I’m a fucking idiot.
Not giving him another second to decide on a game plan, I start rocking my hips again. Only this time, I pick up my pace, fucking him just like he did me—with every ounce of control and demanding submission.
He relaxes, and I balance myself against his strong chest. He’s seated so deeply, and I watch as he sucks in a breath, already on the edge. “You’re not gonna come until I do,” I warn him before leaning down, my lips right by his ear. “And when you do, I want to hear my name on your lips. Not Sweet Angel, my name.”
Something flashes in his eyes, and without warning, his hand closes around my throat and pushes me back up until I’m right where I was before. “I told you to forget your name,” he spits through his teeth, so close to the edge. “She doesn’t exist anymore.”
I keep fucking him and his hand tightens around my throat, just as my walls tighten around his cock. My hips roll as I move up and down on his impressive length, driving him wild with need. “I can’t do that,” I rasp, groaning as I feel that familiar burn deep inside of me, desperate for release. “You can take my name, but you can’t change who I am.”
“And who the fuck are you?” he questions, clenching his jaw, determined to see this through. Just as I demanded.
But that accent, holy shit. It’s just enough to throw me right over the edge, and I come hard and fast, my orgasm tearing through me. I cry out, catching myself against his strong chest, gasping for air as I come undone, my pussy convulsing around him. Then looking him dead in the eye, I give it to him straight. “I’m your goddamn equal.”
And with that, he shoots his hot load deep inside my cunt, his gaze locked on mine in disbelief. He doesn’t say a word as he comes, just stares at me unsure. It’s as though for the first time in his life, he’s lost for words.
Certain I’ve managed to prove some kind of point and regain just a fraction of control—or at least tried to—I climb off him. And with that electrifying, intense stare locked on my back, I stride out of his room with his warm cum spreading between my thighs, more determined than ever to see this through.