42. Massimo
Chapter forty-two
Massimo
T hree weeks, Alessia has been in the confines of her cell.
Her arm is still in a cast, and her ribs are still healing, but I still hold no remorse for how rough I was with her the last time I paid a visit. Especially how she’s made every effort to escape any chance she gets as soon as she began feeling better, she’s craftier than I could have ever imagined. Must’ve learned quite a few tricks when she was being hired for murder .
“Oh, hello, my love,” she chirps as I approach her door. “I was beginning to think I’d never see you again.” She’s lounging on her cot in only a bra and panties as she tosses a roll of socks up in the air and catches it over and over again like a ball. “Come to revel?”
“Came to see if you’re ready to rejoin society.”
She leans up on her elbows, her supple breasts perky and an evil smirk on her lips. “Not a chance, De Luca. But nothing is stopping you from coming in here to play again.” She rubs her thighs together seductively. It’s tempting.
I tear my eyes away from her legs and look at her face. “If I come in there, it won’t be playing.”
She holds my gaze with her own. “Then come on in, and let’s…not play.” Her hand snakes down her flat stomach and rubs over her tempting cunt.
“Don’t tease me, gattina . I’m already restraining myself so that I don’t wring your pretty neck. If I come in there to remind you who you belong to, we’ll be locked in here for days.”
The amusement drains from her face as she sits up all the way. Her seductive fa?ade gone. “I’m not yours, De Luca. That was a hate-fuck, make no mistake.”
My mouth twitches. “Whatever you say, mia amata. ” We have a standoff for an intense moment. “Would you like out of your little cage?”
“That depends.” She stands up and stretches her arms above her head. My eyes make a leisurely path up and down the length of her body in reaction. “Are you just exchanging this cage for another one?”
“Yes.”
“Then I think I’m okay where I’m at.” She casually walks over to the sitting chair in there and sits down, crossing one leg over the other.
“So, the hard way it is,” I mutter, and she glowers at me.
“You better not dart me again like some kind of wild animal.” She clenches her teeth.
“Then you need to behave, gattina .”
“I hate you,” she hisses and stands back up. I can physically see her struggling with her own forbearance as she tries to decipher whether or not her pride should outweigh her comfort and dignity. “I’ll behave .”
“Good girl.” I fight a smirk when her nostrils flare out of response. “Come on out.”