2. Ella
Chapter Two
ELLA
H e flashes a smug smirk at me. Oh God.
Why didn’t I get the hunch? He’s tall, handsome, charming, dominant, why did I mistake him for someone ordinary?
I blush and look at my fingers. “I… I didn’t know, Tommaso, listen–”
“It’s not a big deal, Ella,” his laugh is masculine and deep. Fetching. I blink in surprise, the realization dawning, “I appreciate your honest review,” he winks at me.
“You really own this eight-story hulk of a place?”
He nods, the smirk on his face growing. “Don’t worry. This is not a deal-breaker. By the way, my offer still stands if you happen to have changed your mind.”
I burst into laughter, a mix of shock and embarrassment. “Well, this just took an unexpected turn. Interview it is, I guess. Let’s see what the man behind the curtain has to say.”
“How about somewhere less ritzy ? And more private?” He steps closer to me, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes. It’s so overwhelming I feel dizzy from his proximity alone.
“A private interview?” I say, attempting to regain my poise. “You certainly know how to keep things interesting.”
His virile scent is intoxicating. He smirks, a glint in his brown eyes. “Alright, let’s say I wouldn’t want to pass up on a golden ticket.”
“Oh, really? And here I thought you were just trying to spice up my review,” I ease my shoulders.
“Can’t blame a man for wanting to savor the mystery a little longer.”
The drawl in his voice is attractive. He closes the distance between us, his movements deliberate. A subtle brush of his fingertips against my shoulder sends a tingling sensation through my skin.
“You know,” he starts, his voice a velvety whisper that sends a shiver down my spine, “I must say, you have a way with words. Quite the talented writer. I read what you were jotting down."
I meet his gaze, refusing to let the intensity of his stare unravel me this time.
"Flattery won't change the fact that I'm not here for pleasantries." I scoff.
He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound. "Feisty. I like that. But business and pleasure can coexist, can't they?"
I shudder, the proximity between us feeling too intimate. "I'm not here for games, Mr. Handsome. I have a job to do."
Tommaso takes a step closer, his presence commanding the space now. "Oh! So, you do think I’m handsome! Come on. It doesn't have to be all work and no play. We could make quite the team."
I raise an eyebrow. " Team ? I don't recall signing up for that."
He smirks, undeterred by my resistance. "You're a tough nut to crack, Miss Hart."
My eyes narrow. "Save your charm for the night ahead."
He tilts his head, studying me with an almost predatory curiosity. "You know, resisting only makes the chase more exhilarating."
Damn. He won’t give up. I’m not sure I want him to, anymore.
I scoff, pushing back against the rising tension. "I have an article to write and a strict deadline to follow."
Tommaso leans in, his proximity unsettling. "I’m not saying you won’t get your interview. All I want is for you to consider that the most captivating night might be just around the corner. I mean, life is meant to be experienced. But it’s your call."
He places his hand on mine and traces it back to the length of my arm. Holy Shit . Why do I want him so badly? It is so unprofessional.
“Well, you are very convincing, and I do want that interview…” I look him in the eyes. He got me, and he knows it.
He smirks again, lowering his voice. “Think you can stand the ritz for the night, Ella?”
I feel a shiver of anticipation rush through my spine.
“If the owner himself insists.” I smile, finally allowing myself to give into his charm.
Tommaso, with a lingering gaze that hints at both mystery and invitation, extends his arm. “Shall we?” he suggests. I take his hand, and he pulls me closer for a moment before turning to lead the way. He takes me to a dimly lit mechanical doorway. It looks like an elevator, but it has a lock on it. With his free hand, he takes a metallic key out of an inner pocket of his jacket.
He inserts the key into the lock, and the small screen on the wall beside the mechanical door lights up. The heavy metallic doors open and he enters the small space first.
I get in the private elevator after him. As soon as it closes, he suddenly sweeps me to the side, abruptly pushing me up against the cold metal. He grabs my face between his hands, forcing me to look up into his ardent, determined eyes. I gasp, and his mouth swoops down.
He's kissing me, violently. Oh God, I’m not supposed to like it so much, am I?
Briefly our teeth clash, then his tongue is in my mouth. Desire explodes like fireworks on the fourth of July throughout my body, and I'm kissing him back, matching his fervor, my hands knotting in his meticulously styled curls, pulling them, hard.
He groans, a low sexy sound in the back of his throat that reverberates through me, and his hand moves down my body to the top of my thigh, his fingers digging into my flesh through the dress.
He breaks off the kiss. He’s panting. His eyes are luminous with desire, firing the already heated blood that is pounding through my body. I lean against the wall, panting as well, trying to find my balance.
Right then, the doors open, revealing a luxurious penthouse adorned with plush furnishings, dimly lit to create an intimate ambiance. In the hall, there is a life-size portrait of someone with his child by his side. Both people look somewhat vaguely familiar, and I eventually realize that the child must be Tommaso, while the older man might be his father.
The place has floor-to-ceiling windows offering a spectacular view of the city. “Wow,” I warble. The skyline sparkles.
With a dominant touch, he guides me to his bedroom, the door closing behind us in a hushed whisper. He looks at me, eyes darkly amused, “Chocolate chip ice cream? One of our specialties. Good ones . Not the fancy overpriced things that taste like shit .”
We both laugh. He opens a drawer and grabs a spoon. When he looks up, his eyes are hooded, and his tongue skims his top teeth.
Oh, that tongue.
“We're going to have fun with food, Miss food-blogger.” His voice is deeper, sexier. “Hope you're warm,” he whispers. “I'm going to cool you down with this.” He holds out his hand, and I place mine in his.
He places the ice cream on the nightstand. My body practically convulses.
“I want to tie you up,” he says. I blink at him for a moment. “You can say no if you don’t feel comfortable, Ella. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Okay,” I whisper, already feeling myself getting wet.
“I’m serious Ella. I will check in with you regularly, and you will say green, if you’re good with what I’m doing, yellow when you want me to slow down and check up on you, and red to stop me.” He looks me dead in the eyes as he explains a safe word code that reminds me of a stoplight. “Understood?”
I nod, but it seems to not be good enough for him.
“Use your words.” He commands, and it’s thrilling.
“Yes, understood.” I hurry to reply. I don’t know what has gotten into me, but I am dying to obey him.
“To the bed. I need you to be still. Your hands.”
“Okay,” I whisper again, incapable of anything more.
He strolls over to me, not taking his dark eyes off mine. He takes hold of the ribbons in my dress and with delicious, teasing slowness, releases them one by one from the back.
My dress falls open while I stand paralyzed under his heated gaze. After a moment, he pushes it off my shoulders. It fills and pools at my feet so that I'm standing naked before him. He strokes my hips with the backs of his knuckles, and his touch resonates in the depths of my groin.
“Lie on the bed, face up,” he murmurs, his eyes burning into mine.
I do as I'm told. The room is shrouded in darkness except for a soft, insipid light from a red lamp. He stands by the bed gazing down at me.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, and with that crawls on to the bed, up my body, and straddles me.
“Arms above your head,” he commands.
I comply and he fastens his tie around my wrists and to the bed stand. He pulls it tight so my arms are flexed above me.
“Color?”
“Green,” I reply, staring up at him, and he visibly relaxes.
“Good girl.”
Then he stands and takes his coat and dress shirt off. He undoes his pants and drops them to the floor. He is gloriously naked. I guess we both disdain undergarments. He has a physique drawn on classical lines: broad muscular shoulders, narrow hips, and abs. He obviously works out. I could look at him all day. He moves to the end of the bed and grasps my ankles, pulling me swiftly and sharply downward so that my arms are stretched out and unable to move.
“That's better,” he mutters, his voice getting deeper.
Picking up the pint of ice cream, he climbs smoothly back onto the bed. Very slowly, he peels off the lid and dips the spoon in.
Scooping out a spoonful of the chocolate chip dessert, he pops it into his mouth. “Not bad,” he murmurs, licking his lips. He looks so freaking hot, sexy, and carefree – sitting on me.
What am I doing here? I should be working! What about the interview? My boss is going to kill me. But then my eyes fall back on Tommaso’s lips, and my anxious thoughts are silenced again.
Taking a spoonful, he lets the ice cream slowly melt on the spoon so that it will drip onto my throat, and between my breasts. He dips down and very slowly licks it off. My body lights up with longing.
“Tastes even better on you, Ella.”
A breathy moan escapes my lips and I pull against the tie around my wrists. The bed creaks loudly, but I don't care – desire is consuming me. He takes another spoonful. Then with the back of the spoon, he spreads it over my boobs and nipples.
“Oh…” I gasp, and then moan, as each nipple peaks and hardens beneath the cool metal of the spoon.
Tommaso bends to lick and suckle all the ice cream off me once more.
It's torture, his hot mouth on me contrasting with the cold.
“Want some?” And before I can accept or deny his offer, his tongue is shoved in my mouth, and it's cold and tastes of chocolate chips and wine. Mmh, delicious.
He kisses my lips and then lowers his head to suck each of my nipples hard. And I try; I try to stay still, but it's hard to ignore the blend of cold and his inflaming touch. But my hips start to move involuntarily, jumping to their own rhythm, caught up in his thrall.
I moan again . A deep and long groan. It's cold, it's hot, it's tantalizing, he doesn't stop. He sucks farther down my body, into my pubic hair, onto my clitoris. I cry out, loudly.
“Hush now,” he says softly as his magical tongue sets to work, and now I'm keening quietly.
“Oh… please…” I beg him.
“I know,” he breathes against my most sensitive part as his tongue works its magic. He doesn't stop, just doesn't stop, and my body is climbing, higher and higher. He slips one finger inside me, then another, and he moves them with agonizing slowness in and out.
“Here,” he whispers, and he steadily strokes the front wall of my vagina while he continues the harsh, relentless licking and sucking.
A mind-blowing orgasm stuns all my senses, eliminating all that's happening outside my body as I writhe and groan. Holy cow, that was quick.