20. Margot
Chapter 20
Margot
E nraged, I march through the house. I’m on a mission, one man on my mind with a thousand questions that demand answers.
With everything I know about Massimo and the danger that fills his world, it shouldn’t have surprised me that he would have sent me shopping with two people, only to have another follow us from the shadows. He should have told me that was his plan.
I thought I’d made myself clear .
He keeps me in the loop and I don’t lose my shit at him.
I’m reminded of the events in the kitchen this morning. Of him punishing me for speaking my mind in front of others. But maybe he was sending a different message, reminding me of who is in charge in our relationship.
Well, he’s going to get a piece of my mind now. I don’t care who he’s in his office with. He should have given me a heads-up. It’s the least he can do given everything. I’m not used to watching over my shoulder and reasoning with my paranoia when I see a shifty as fuck man obviously following me.
I barge into Massimo’s office, balling my hands. I inhale sharply before blowing it out and marching across the room. Thank God he’s alone. The hour and a half drive from the city was more than enough time for the ire to seep into my bones and rid me of any manners.
“Margot,” Massimo drawls, a bored note to his tone as he continues to type on his laptop.
With my hands on my hips, I step into the room, kicking the door shut behind me. “I know I’m not from your world, Massimo, and Lord knows everyone likes to remind me of the fact. But can you please explain why you sent two people to the city with me and then had someone else following us the entire time?” My chest heaves, but I bite my tongue, holding back, waiting for him to explain himself.
He lifts his head, focusing his attention on me. “You clearly have more to say, so get it all out, because this will be your only chance.”
He’s barely finished his sentence before I speak again. “What was the point? Other than to freak me out.” Pacing, I throw my hands up in the air. “Do you not think it might have been a good idea to tell me? Of course you didn’t. Why should you tell me anything? Honestly, Massimo, I thought I’d been clear about this. You can’t leave me out of the loop on these things. I need to know if I should have my guard up when?—”
I snap my mouth shut, my heart thumping in my chest when I turn and watch Massimo roll his chair back. He closes his laptop, moving it to the side and taps the mahogany desk. “Come. Sit.”
Torn between running and following my curiosity, I remain rooted to the spot. There isn’t a chance in hell that I’m going to willingly let him spank me again. “No,” I affirm, jutting my chin. “I’m not a dog you can beckon, and I’m sure as hell not up for another round of your twisted discipline when I’ve done nothing wrong.”
His expression darkens. “Margot,” he rumbles. “Sit, before I make you.”
My heart thrashes, and a heavy silence settles between us until the tension snaps in the air. Unable to stand the weight of his stare any longer, I tear my gaze away, walking around his desk with stiff and deliberate steps. I hesitate before lifting myself onto the cool wood. The polished surface sticks to the backs of my thighs before Massimo rolls his chair in and lifts my legs, resting my feet on the arms of it.
He holds me steady when I go to move, gripping my ankles firmly. The cocktail of excitement and apprehension swirling inside of me is too much to bear. “Look, I’m…” I huff out a breath, turning to look out of the window at the vibrant and dewy landscape. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have barged in here?—”
My hips lift, and a gasp is ripped from my lips when he applies a light pressure to my clit over my panties. I stare at him through hazy eyes before my head rolls back, suddenly too heavy. I’m supposed to be mad at him . I should be shoving him away and reminding him of why I stormed in here, but when I look at him again, the heat in his eyes locks me in place. The corner of his mouth lifts and my body practically sings in anticipation of the release that I know only he can give me.
“You can apologize. That’s good to know.” Running his hands up my legs and under my skirt, he grips my underwear, pulling them down my thighs when I lift from the desk. “I have no problem filling you in on matters, Margot. But you need to remember that it’s not all sunshine and roses. If you can’t handle something, there’s no giving it back.”
I nod, my resolve faltering as a sliver of unease skates down my spine. “I know.”
Bringing my legs together in front of him, Massimo finishes removing my underwear. I expect him to throw them on the floor or put them on the desk, but instead, he opens his desk drawer, dropping them inside. When he closes it, the sound lingers in the air, heightening my need to feel his hands on me.
I lean back, resting my hands on the desk behind me when he returns his hands to my thighs, smoothing up the inside of them and massaging the flesh with his fingers. My eyes flutter closed when he swipes his thumb over my clit. I gasp at the sensation, the bundle of nerves sensitive to the touch.
Suddenly he’s gone, and I open my eyes, seeking him out.
“It’s polite to look someone in the eye when you’re having a conversation,” he admonishes.
I lick my lips and clear my throat before shuffling on the desk and holding his gaze. “Of course.”
My chest heaves, all of my concentration going into holding Massimo’s stare as he slides a finger inside of me. I whimper, my hips rocking forward when he doesn’t move.
“I didn’t send anyone to follow you.”
A whirlwind of worry picks up in my gut, but with a light pressure to my clit and the movement of his finger, Massimo calms it.
“Who was it then?” I ask, my words breathless and laced with arousal.
He adds another finger, muttering under his breath, “You’re so fucking wet.” Sitting straighter, he adds, “I don’t know. I sent you with Angelo and Dante, that was all. But rest assured, I will find out who was following you.”
Applying more pressure to my clit, he works his thumb in small circles, bringing me closer to the edge. “Okay,” I sigh, my mind too focused on the movements of his hand to fully process his words.
“What do you remember about him?” Massimo asks, completely unfazed.
Oh God . I can barely remember my own name when he has his hands on me. Scouring my memory, I try to recall the guy I’d seen as we traveled from store to store. It was busy but he stood out.
Massimo pushes my skirt further up my legs, exposing my pussy. He lowers his head between my thighs and blows a stream of cold air onto it. I moan at the sensation that follows. “Keep thinking. This is important.”
Right. Yes. Important . What did he look like? I stare at the wall behind Massimo, trying and failing to remember. When his tongue slides through my folds, I give up; a moaned gasp falling from my lips and flying around the room. My hips lift, following his mouth when he moves away.
“Fuck, you taste good.” He continues to move his fingers in and out of me at a lazy pace. “What did he look like?”
“I can’t think when you’re doing that,” I breathe. When he removes his fingers, I cry out in frustration and pout. “No. I need more.”
Massimo stands, forcing me to lift my legs from the chair as it rolls back. I fall back onto the desk, resting my heels on the edge. The sound of him undoing his belt and dragging it through the loops sends a thrill of excitement through me. He drops it to the floor, the metallic sound brash but barely penetrating the fog of arousal surrounding me.
Within seconds, his cock is free and he’s gripping the base as he enters me. He’s still fully clothed and there’s something carnal about the vision of him with only his cock bared. I shift to sit up, staring down at where we’re connected as he eases inside of me, inch by glorious inch.
Our moans collide in the space between us, his deep and masculine, mine soft and low. I slide my palm up his chest, resting it on his shoulder while keeping the other planted to the desk. I hook my legs over his hips, pulling him even closer to me.
Massimo drops his forehead against mine and we hold each other's stare as he moves in and out with agonizingly slow thrusts. The moment feels intimate and like there’s a whole heap of meaning behind it that I don’t have the capacity to process. Each stroke of his cock stokes the flames inside of me. I moan his name, my eyes heavy and hard to keep open.
I know that he must feel what I do, because he pulls back, slamming into me over and over again, his movements jerky and uncontrolled. Tension coils in the base of my spine, and I dig my fingers into his shoulder as I match his pace.
My back arches and my walls clamp around Massimo’s cock. Rocking my hips, I cry out, tremors wracking my body as my orgasm rushes through me. Massimo grunts, dropping his head to my shoulder as he stills and comes inside of me.
When he straightens, he smooths a strand of hair away from my face, the gesture reinforcing the intimacy we shared moments ago.
The sounds of the house on the other side of his office door are suddenly amplified, like someone turned up the volume. They remind me of where we are and why I came to his office.
Pushing at his stomach, I force him to step back before jumping from his desk. I’m aware of him rearranging his clothes and tucking his cock back into his trousers.
As I move around the room, trying to put some distance between us, I feel our release sliding down my leg and curse myself for having let him steal my panties and come inside me again.
It’s only when I’ve got my breathing under control that I dare speak, forcing myself to answer his question from earlier. “I don’t remember what he looked like exactly, but he was shifty and had tattoos. If I saw him again, I’d recognize him, but he was too far away to get any real details.”
Dropping into his chair, Massimo opens his laptop, dismissing me. “I’ll pick up with Angelo and Dante to see if they got anything.”
I take that as my cue to leave. I still feel the heat of him lingering on me as I move through the house. But what’s worse is the guilt over Ethan that always follows hot on its heels.
If my husband's touch is like a brand that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to scrub away, then the memory of my ex-boyfriend is like a ghost that will haunt me forever.