Chapter Three #2
His rough voice has my nipples hardening behind my dress and the ache in my core growing into a painful throb. A moan slips out when he pushes his hips against mine, the press of his erection working to intensify the feeling between my legs. “Y-you don’t own me.”
"Oh, but I do," he growls, and when he pushes back to look at me, I see that devilish glint flash in his eyes. Then, his hand crawls up my body and takes a nipple between his knuckles, pulling on the aching bead. “Do you want me to prove it to you?”
My head falls back against the wall with a thud as heat floods my core, making me wet and achy. “Antonio—”
“Fuck, my name sounds so fucking hot coming from your lips," he growls, slamming his mouth back against mine, his tongue tangling with mine. I whine into the kiss, pushing my aching breasts against his groping hands. Even with all these sensations flooding my body, I need more.
Christ, I'm his doctor and should put an end to this! What if we get carried away and he hurts his leg or something?
But how do I stop wanting him? Heck, if I knew how to, then we wouldn't be here now, would we? With my back pressed up against the man’s bedroom walls, whining into a kiss as his fingers squeeze my aching breasts over my dress.
And yet, even that is not enough!
“Antonio,” I whimper when the ache in my core grows unbearable, throbbing fiercely with need for relief. For his touch. Anything. “Please.”
“Fuck mia stellina,” he growls, breaking the kiss and pushing back to look at me.
“You have no idea how fucking sexy you look right now, begging for my touch.” I dig my fingers into his shoulder when I feel his hand slide down my body and between my thighs.
“No one will give you what I can. No one gets to touch you but me!”
My breath comes in short pants, and I jolt when his fingers brush against my aching clit. Those hungry golden eyes don’t shift from my face as he rubs a finger over my panties.
“Oh God,” I whimper when his finger slides into my panties and through my wetness. I cry out and drop my forehead against his shoulder, delicious heat rocking through me as his finger expertly circles my swollen clit.
“That asshole will never touch you like I do!” he rasps, pressing hard against my clit and making my knees go weak and my legs tremble. “Only I get to touch your wet little pussy.”
“Yes,” I moan, wrapping my arms around his shoulder and rocking against him, chasing the finger that’s teasing my clit even as I rub my aching nipples against his firm chest.
“No one but me gets to touch you!”
“Yes,” I sob, too far gone to care whether or not he means those words. The pressure building in my core is too strong, and the roaring in my head too loud. Everything in me aches with need for relief. "Antonio…oh God!"
His mouth finds mine in a kiss that only ramps up my hunger and desperation, making my toes curl. "Take me out," he breathes, his calloused finger massaging my clit faster. "Take me out and stroke me, Emilia.”
My hand hovers at the waistband of his sweatpants, trembling. I want to—God, I want to—but I've never. My fingers hesitate against the fabric, uncertain. What if I do it wrong? What if he realizes how inexperienced I am and pulls away?
Antonio must feel my hesitation because his free hand captures mine, guiding it lower until my palm presses against the hard ridge straining beneath the cotton. He's so big. So hard. The heat of him sears through the thin fabric, and my breath catches.
“Don't be shy, mia stellina,” he growls against my ear, his voice low and commanding in a way that makes my core clench. His finger presses harder against my clit, dragging a whimper from my throat. “I need your hands on me. Touch me.”
The dominance in his tone unravels something inside me. My nervousness doesn't disappear, but it's buried beneath a wave of want so fierce it drowns out everything else. With shaking fingers, I slip my hand beneath his waistband, my heart hammering as my fingers brush against hot, silken skin.
He groans—a deep, guttural sound that vibrates against my neck—and the noise emboldens me. I wrap my fingers around his shaft, gasping against his mouth when his cock jerks in my grip.
“It’s so big,” I breathe, my voice barely a whisper. I've never touched a man like this before, never felt anything like the thick, pulsing heat filling my palm. He's velvet over steel, and when I squeeze experimentally, he hisses through his teeth.
“Just like that,” he rasps, his hips rocking into my grip. “Fuck, your hand feels so good.”
“I’m so close, baby,” he growls, dipping his head into my neck and sucking on my skin as his fingers move faster, so fast I hear the squelching noise as he rubs my swollen clit.
My legs begin to shake harder, and my breath comes in gasps as I feel myself yanked closer and closer to an edge I’ve never achieved myself.
My hand squeezes his shaft as an orgasm rocks through me.
My inner walls tighten, and I cry out, violent shudders breaking through my body.
I fall against him, bad leg and all, as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me, making my knees weak and my vision blurry.
“Fuck, fuuuck!” Antonio grunts into my neck, thrusting his cock into my fisted hand twice before I feel it swell and jerk, coating my hand with wet heat.
His voice is muffled into my neck as he rocks his hips against my hand, his body tense against mine until he’s spilled everything, then he goes slack against me.
A long silence follows as the fog slowly clears from my mind, and I realize what position we are in. I start to push him back when I remember his bad leg, so I carefully nudge him away from me, not daring to meet his eyes.
Christ, where was my self-control?
I glance down at my hands and the sticky cum painting my fingers.
"I…I'll go clean up and, um…grab a towel for you," I say, not daring to meet his eyes as I rush into his bathroom.
I wash my hands in his sink and glance up at the mirror, gasping at the darkening hickey on the left side of my neck.
Shit, everyone at work saw me leave with Richard and will probably think he gave it to me.
I stare at the love bite for a long time before I realize that I’m stalling. I can’t hide in the bathroom forever, so I decide I might as well face the man. We have to talk about what happened tonight—well, before the touching and the kissing.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath before heading back into the bedroom, wet towel in hand. Antonio is seated on the bed and doesn’t say a word as he cleans himself. I dispose of the towel, and when I come back, he's already under the covers, those golden eyes tracking me.
"If you want to go out, no one is going to stop you, but you are not to leave this house without a security escort."
“What?” I gape at the man, words failing me. Is this how he’s going to act? Pretend that we both didn’t help each other get off? Still, my glare doesn’t seem to faze him. That gorgeous face remains blank, and those eyes show nothing of the affection I’m always hoping to see in them.
“I think it would be best if you took a few days off work. At least until we catch the shooter. You’re safer here than out there.”
How can he touch me the way he did and say the things he said and just…pretend that it all never happened? Am I supposed to do the same? We kiss, we touch, and then…nothing. It’s over and done with.
Christ, I could have fallen in love with any of the Rossi brothers, but I fell for this one. Fell so hard, in fact, that digging myself out feels impossible.
“Emilia?”
I turn around and begin walking away before my brain can register what my body is doing. He calls out to me as I open the bedroom door, but I don’t stop or turn around.
Antonio Rossi can go to hell!
His voice is the last thing I hear before I slam his door shut.