Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
KATERINA
I am regretting my life choices. I should never have agreed to this. Now I’m stuck here witnessing the destruction of my personal bubble. There are people in my house, drilling holes in walls and installing little boxes of electronics, trailing wires all over the place, and leaving dust and footprints everywhere.
It’s not like I’m obsessively tidy. I’m what I would describe as ‘chaotic good’ when it comes to housework. Everything is mostly tidy and then I do one big clean every time I’m off shift. And truthfully, ‘mostly tidy’ means all mess is coordinated into piles, drawers, or baskets of organised disorder. But the dust and the noise and the people are too much.
Having changed into my gym kit, I storm into my kitchen and grab a water bottle from the fridge before turning and heading towards the garage. I have a home gym set up in there and I need to burn off the excess frustration. When I open the internal door from the utility to the garage, I stop still at the sight before me. I’m both furious and also struggling to contain my laughter.
I have many pieces of equipment spread out in here. I haven’t managed to make a massive mark on my home since I moved in, but this space is one I took the time to put together. It’s my sanctuary. When I’m off shift, I turn into a complete homebody and the last thing I want to do is leave the comfort of my home in order to sweat in front of strangers.
None of those pieces of equipment are why I’m giggling though. Before me are two of the workmen. One is laughing at his friend while he tries—and fails—to hold himself with any dignity on the shiny spinning pole in the centre of the garage. I vaguely recognise them. They’re young, so I’m sure they’re the son or nephew of someone I know well, but right now I can’t place them. They definitely look similar enough to be brothers though.
The one on the pole is off the ground, straddling it and holding tight with one arm. I’m about to tell him not to let go when he does just that and throws his head back. I can’t stop the snort of laughter that erupts from me as he’s left gripping the pole with only his trouser-clad thighs, which lose all traction against the shiny surface, causing him to slide with great speed towards the floor. He lands on his ass with an undignified grunt, crushing his left shoulder. I flinch as he hits the ground, remembering how painful it was when I was learning.
“Having fun, boys? ”
They whip their heads around, visibly blanching when they see me.
“It’s not as easy as it looks, is it, gentlemen?” I admonish, forcing a stern tone into my voice and arching a brow at them. I’m really not mad, but I’m enjoying fucking with them.
They don’t move, dropping their mouths open like fish out of water, seemingly having forgotten how to speak. I make my way over to them as the man who made the valiant attempt at the pole rights himself and starts dusting off his trousers.
“Is there a reason why you’re in here playing with my pole, gentlemen?” I feel a little bad when they blush before suddenly becoming enormously interested in staring at their feet. I decide not to let them off so easily. “Well?”
“Sorry, Doc,” they reply in unison. It’s impossible to keep a straight face at their complete mortification. The cackle I let out does nothing to reduce their awkwardness. As I step further into the room, they scurry towards the door, giving me a wide berth, like getting too close will somehow magnify their embarrassment.
“What exactly were you working on in here before you decided to ride my pole, boys?” I’m probably being a little mean now, but the looks on their faces make it too tempting not to tease them.
“W-we were putting up sensors on the window and garage door for the alarm. Sorry, Doc,” says the spectator. They both pause at the door like they’re waiting to be excused, but I can tell from their pained expressions they’d rather be anywhere but here .
I finally let my face fall into a warm smile, and I can see their relief when they grasp that I’m not actually mad. “I’m just fucking with you. Although if you want to play with the pole in future, you need to lose the trousers.”
I take a step towards it, stretching up high with one hand and taking a firm grip. I push off, lifting my legs off the ground, and start the pole in a slow spin before wrapping them around it, holding myself in a seated position as it rotates at a leisurely pace.
“You’ll never get the grip you need to hold the position with pants on,” I say with a grin before letting go with my hands and throwing my head back, leaving me hanging upside down, the pole in a tight grip between my thighs. I’m wearing a sports bra and my pole shorts. They’re slightly longer than booty shorts, but not by much, and they’re necessary for pole work.
As I spin around, I now realise that perhaps it wasn’t just the falling that caused their red faces, because right now they don’t know where to look. Every time they come into view as I turn, they look more and more flustered, doing everything they can not to look at me. On the next rotation, there’s a shadow in the doorway, and as I come back around, Stefano steps into view—face like thunder and anger rolling off him in waves.
“Get the fuck out right now,” he roars at his men, and I can’t help but giggle as the guys flee like startled cattle. They’re their own two-man stampede.
I loosen the grip my thighs have on the pole, sliding down and laying my hands on the floor, kicking back into a handstand before standing. Stefano slams the door to the garage and storms towards me, his expression rigid and his jaw clenched tight. He looks like a bull charging a matador. I hold up my palm as he reaches me, stopping him dead in his tracks.
“Don’t you fucking start with me, Tiero. I came in here to work out and found your men playing on my pole?—”
“What do you mean playing on your pole?” he growls, and I snigger. “Don’t laugh at me. This isn’t fucking funny. Why the hell were my men standing here ogling my-my… you, wearing next to nothing on a stripper pole?”
Any humour I was experiencing is sucked out of me, replaced with an irritation at his tone that festers around me, hanging in and gearing us up for what’s about to be our first official fight as a couple. Wait, does dating for twenty-four hours make us a couple? Who the fuck knows.
“Where the hell do you get off coming into my house and judging me for how I choose to exercise?”
“Th-That’s not what I mea—” he stutters, clearly realising his mistake. He’s poked the bear and now he’s ripe for a mauling.
“How fucking dare you judge me for what I do and what I wear,” I screech, stepping into his space only for him to take a step back to escape.
“That’s not why I?—”
“I don’t care why you’re acting like a fucking caveman, Tiero. I came in here and found them dicking about on my ‘stripper’ pole, as you so eloquently put it. So, I decided to teach them a lesson. Quite literally, and they were mortified. You think the minute you turn your back, I’m in here putting on some kind of show for anyone who’ll watch. You think I’d do that to you?” My chest is heaving with each sentence I spit at him. “And if you think you have any say in what I do with my body, you’ve got another thing coming. What the fuck do you thi?—”
He bats away the finger I’m using to repeatedly stab him with and steps towards me, placing his hands around my waist and hoisting me up against him. My traitorous legs wrap around him to balance as he walks me back against the wall of mirrors. I flinch when my bare skin hits the cold surface.
“What the fuck are you doing? We’re fighting,” I grind out. My breathing is ragged and strained as he leans in closer.
“We’re not fighting,” he fires back at me.
“I beg your pardon. Yes, we fucking are,” I snap. My arms encircle his neck but I unfurl one just long enough to slap at his shoulder. He loosens his grip on me and drops me down, startling a yelp out of me as my feet find the floor. His hands dart for my wrists, dragging my arms over my head and pressing them firmly against the cool glass. “What the fuck is your prob?—”
Pinning both my wrists beneath one of his broad palms, his free hand darts for my throat, cutting me off mid-irate sentence.
“Enough,” he roars, before crashing his lips to mine and stealing the head of steam I’d built up straight from my lungs. I gasp and let out a little whimper when he shifts his stance, pressing against me with his hips, and showing me just how much he likes having me at his mercy. The corner of my mouth curves in a smile when I calm down long enough to recognise that this reaction isn’t down to mistrust. There’s a torrent of emotions drifting across his features, but the one I can see gleaming in his eyes is jealousy. He’s jealous. Jealous that anyone other than him got to see… what’s his.
“Goddammit, why do you have to make it so difficult to apologise? You’re a fucking menace sometimes.” His tone is gruff and strained. We’re so close our breaths mingle and tussle with each other.
“Are you saying you can’t handle a woman like me, vecchietto ?” I say with a sarcastic lilt to my voice. Throwing down the gauntlet, trying to see how far I can push him. The tips of his fingers flex, just enough to elicit a half-feral moan as the pressure around my neck fluctuates.
“You know what I think, micetta ?” he teases, his mouth curling into a lopsided smirk and letting his dimple come out to play. “You need a firm hand or a hard fuck, don’t you, baby girl?”
“Why not both?” I say with a dramatic pout.
He releases my wrists and throat, and I instantly miss the sense of possession they gave me. I need his hands on me. I crave them and my body seems to come alive under his touch.
He looks like a beast about to tear me limb from limb. I’m so exposed, so vulnerable, and so fucking turned on. A low rumble in his chest is the only warning I get before he grabs my arm and drags me with him as he stalks across the room .
The more roughly he handles me, the more my core heats and my arousal builds. “What are you going to do to me?” I ask, not really caring what the answer is, but desperate to hear his gruff voice again.
“What do you want me to do to you? What will make you understand who you belong to?” he says, his timbre so full of gravel I swear I can feel it vibrating in my molten core.
“I’ve been yours for years. You just never claimed me,” I whine, hating every second his hands are not on my body.
“Is that what you want? To be owned?”
“Yes. But only by you, Daddy,” I whisper, but I may as well have shouted for the reaction my words elicit. Stefano’s expression darkens and one hand darts back to collar my throat before squeezing just enough for my pulse to hammer against his fingertips.
“On. Your. Knees,” he commands. With his other hand, he wrenches open his belt and unbuttons his pants. “Take out my dick and show me how good you can be for me.”
He cups my jaw firmly, pulling me forwards, and I instinctively open my mouth as I scramble to tug down his clothes, eager to feel him fill my throat. My pussy is throbbing almost as hard as my heart is pounding. I’d love to feel his cock in my cunt right now, but I want him to punish me more. His erection springs free as I drag the waistband of his boxers to his taut thighs and smile with satisfaction as I take in his swollen length.
It's magnificent. Thick and long, with a vein that snakes from the base to the flare of his crown. I don’t hesitate to lean in and trace it with the tip of my tongue, moaning in harmony with him as he obviously savours the sensation.
Cupping the back of my head, he starts a slow and unforgiving thrust, not stopping when I gag a little. Pushing deeper until I’m forced to swallow around him. My hands fly to the backs of his thighs, gripping them tightly as I brace myself against him, eager for him to take me exactly how he wants to.
I’ve never felt like this before, but the more he takes what he needs, the more turned on I am. I want him to own me. I need it.
Just when I start to think about my dwindling air supply, he pulls back enough for me to heave in my next breath. But he doesn’t give me a chance to take a second. He sets a slow and brutal pace, eking out both his pleasure and mine. It’s savage, yet at the same time, loving.
Our eyes are locked, and his gaze is fierce.
Dragging me off his cock, he growls, “Who do you belong to?”
“You.”
“Damn fucking right,” he roars, before plunging back between my lips and sheathing himself in my throat. Saliva pools under my tongue, coating his dick and dribbling out of the corner of my mouth. The sounds of half-chokes and hollow cheeked sucks fill the room as he picks up the pace, and I don’t know whether it’s his groans of pleasure or the pre-cum he’s coating my throat with, but they’re pushing me into a state of arousal I’ve never experienced before. I’m overwhelmed with a sensation of complete ownership while feeling entirely cherished at the same time.
His hips stutter a moment before his cum erupts on my tongue and paints my throat in hot, salty ropes. I struggle to swallow, smiling as he pulls out, dripping the last of his release across the swell of my breasts.
He leans down, running his hand through his masterpiece, massaging it in, branding me. When I start to moan, he stops, teasing me.
“Uh-uh-uh, baby girl. You’ll get your release when I say so. Right now you can get dressed and finish the workout you came down here for, covered in my cum.”
I whimper in response, but I can’t deny how much the idea turns me on. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to protest. “But you can’t do that.”
“You’re lucky I granted you the privilege of choking on my dick.”
He zips up his pants and fastens his belt as he stalks over to the door and then slips out of the room without another word, leaving me speechless and eager for his touch.
I don’t know where this version of Stefano has been hiding, but fuck me, I’m desperate for him. If any other man used me like that—like his personal fuck toy—I’d kick them out quicker than they could unzip their pants, but when Stefano tells me to get on my knees? Then I want to fall to the ground and suck his cock like it’s my favourite lollipop.
He's left me desperate and horny and despite my pussy’s fluttering protests, the rest of my body is at peace. Happy to have been so thoroughly owned by him.
As I lean into the first stretch of my workout, I smile, happy to do as I’m told, and switch my brain off for the next hour, focussed on only one thought.
He makes me feel like I’m his.