Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tommy
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I’ve lost my ever-loving mind. I recognized Stella the moment I spied her.
I barely excused myself from the woman I’d approached.
She was hot, and I thought I’d see if we’re into the same things.
But when my gaze landed on Stella, no one else existed in this entire place.
When that fuckwad approached us, I reminded myself that beating the shit out of him wouldn’t be the appropriate response in a place like this.
Jealousy.
Possessiveness.
Those emotions drive me tonight. I’m jealous of the man I know she was with in the past and the man I know she’s supposed to be with in the future.
Possessiveness tempted me to drive my fist into that jackass’s throat.
It’s what drives me to keep going tonight when this is the single worst idea I’ve ever had.
But she’s so damn beautiful when she submits.
She lowers herself to the floor, kneeling between my open legs. Her hands rest on her thighs, and she’s gazing down. I love women in this pose, and I especially love seeing Stella like this. But I miss looking into her eyes.
“Take me out.”
Her cheeks pinken. This embarrasses her? I didn’t expect that.
I sit back as she unfastens my belt. She focuses on what she’s doing, so I can see her eyes.
The blue and the green remind me of the ocean.
Depending on the weather, the water can be either shade.
I have a beach house in Maine near an old whaling village.
The back deck practically hangs over the cliffside.
I’ve spent many hours staring out to sea.
I could spend many hours staring into Stella’s eyes.
She pushes open my pants, then pushes down my boxer briefs. She eyes me, and I see excitement. She puts her hands back on her thighs, awaiting my next command.
“Can you take all of me?”
“I can try, Sir.”
“Snap if it’s too much. Show me.”
She snaps with both hands.
“You will only use your mouth.”
“Yes, Sir.”
She puts her hands behind her back as I lay mine on the armrests.
She inches closer, rising as tall as she can.
She licks my balls, and I fight not to come.
I’ve edged her all night, but that denial wasn’t just inflicted upon her.
It was self-inflicted too. I brought her to the brink over and over but refused to let her come.
Now I do the same to myself as her tongue swirls around my cock before flicking just below the bulbous head.
She does the same to the slit on top. Then her mouth slides down.
She’s excruciatingly slow. I know this is revenge.
I know she’s taunting me just like I did her.
I know she senses how I struggle not to grip the armrests or lift my hips.
My impassive appearance has never been harder fought.
She leans forward to take more. I slip my left hand into her silky hair.
I love the feeling of how I can so easily run my fingers through the short strands without them getting caught in any tangles.
I don’t press hard, but enough to remind her she’s blowing me, but I’m controlling her.
She bobs with her eyes closed. Her brow’s smooth, and her breathing’s even.
It’s obvious she knows how to suck a dick.
That jealousy and possessiveness threaten to swallow me just like she’s swallowing me.
A black haze threatens to crowd my mind, tempting my thoughts to run dark.
A craving to dominate her more fiercely than I have so far.
Jesus.
I slide down the back of her throat. Grooves deepen in her forehead, and she stops for a moment. I worry I’m too much, so I take all the weight off her head. She sucks so hard I think I’ve stuck my cock in a vacuum rather than a mouth. When I press again, she eases off. She wants my control.
Her face appears peaceful again, and it makes me wonder if she loves giving all blow jobs. Could it just be me?
She lets go, taking a deep inhale before licking my balls.
She toys with them before sucking each. Her eyes are still closed, so my hands wrap around the armrests until my fingers cramp.
She winds her tongue around me as she moves up to the tip, then sinks her mouth down my length again.
I breathe through my nose, forcing myself to last. I refuse to embarrass myself by coming within moments of her touching me. It’s a struggle, but I master my dick.
“You’re such a good girl, bambi.”
She hums her appreciation. Two more deep breaths, and I let go of the armrests. I bury both hands in her hair and gradually increase the pressure. When her lips nearly reach the base of my cock, I hold her head in place. She gags once, then calms. I rock my hips, fucking her face.
“Such a warm and talented mouth. You’re going to make me come. Snap if you don’t want to swallow.” I wait, but she does nothing. “You’re going to swallow every drop of my cum. As it slides down your throat and into your belly, remember it’s mine. I’m inside you, branding you.”
I don’t hold back. I shoot my load—most of it—into her mouth. When I feel like I’m nearly done, I change my mind. I pull her away from me and point my cock at her chest, spraying the last of my cum on her tits.
“I’ve marked you from the outside, too. In case you forget who you belong to, you can look down and see.”
With my hand still in her hair, I give it a quick tug.
She rises, and I stand too. I tip her head back, reminding her who’s in control.
I run my tongue from the base of her neck to the end of her jaw.
My kiss isn’t any gentler than I’ve been tonight.
I command her body, and if I could, I would command her heart to feel what I do.
But I won’t wish that recklessness and foolishness on her.
If anyone finds out, I’ll claim I forced her.
I won’t let her shoulder any blame. I can’t. I’d do anything to protect her.
I pull away, and our gazes meet. I let go of her and lean back.
“Goodnight.”
I leave her speechless as I walk to the door.
I glimpse her as I step into the hallway.
Her stunned expression morphs into pain.
It tempts me to go back, draw her into my arms, and cuddle her like I did twice before.
But I can’t. A deeper emotional attachment will cause more pain than what my callousness is doing now.
I could have let her come. I could have made her come.
I didn’t because I want her to ache for me, her cunt needy for my cock.
I will fuck her. It just couldn’t be tonight.
It’ll piss her off, but she’ll still want me.
If we’d fucked tonight, I risk this being a one and done.
I might not want a deeper emotional connection, but I want her body and even her mind.
I can’t—won’t—love her because she’ll marry my uncle in a few weeks.
But I can take from her what she’s taken from me.
Peace of mind. I’ll never stop craving her.
* * *
That was a fucking disaster. Gio wasn’t available to talk yesterday, and I wasn’t explaining the situation to Edoardo for him to relay back to his father.
Instead, I’m stuck in Gio’s home office now, seething and fighting the urge to tear him apart.
Not limb from limb. No. I’d make it far more painful. Penny by penny.
I was on edge before I walked in. I didn’t see Stella’s car in the driveway, but it could have been in the garage.
After I left her in the playroom, I gathered my stuff and left the club.
I positioned myself in the shadows to watch her leave.
I followed her to a hotel, which surprised me.
It tempted me to wonder if she was meeting someone.
A greased palm told me the reservation was for one and under her name, and she checked in by herself.
I waited outside her hotel for an hour and a half to be sure she didn’t leave.
I slipped back in and up to my room. Convenient coincidence she picked the same place I’m staying.
I passed out hard, but even a good night’s sleep hasn’t put me in the mood to deal with Gio’s hissy fit.
“It couldn’t be avoided. This is part of the deal you negotiated with my uncle. If the weigh station deal falls through, then there’s no point to marriage.”
“You still need the dowry. It’s too much to turn your nose up at.”
“We can make just as much money without adding another mouth to feed.”
I wince internally. That was a dickhead thing to say, but I’m playing hard to get.
He doesn’t need to know how much I want Stella in Boston.
He doesn’t need to know how much Uncle Mano’s looking forward to having a new piece of arm candy to show off around town.
I can’t let Gio believe we need this alliance more than he does.
We don’t, so I won’t let him get a false impression of who controls this deal.
“When did you become the stronzo of the family?” Asshole.
I shrug.
I’m sitting in one of the leather chairs like I did the day I arrived. I crossed my left ankle over my right thigh, my shirt collar’s unbuttoned to the second one, my cuffs are rolled back, and I’m holding a glass of wine in my right hand, which hangs over the side of the armrest.
I’m the picture of a bored playboy. A couple rings and a gold chain, and people’d call me a Guido. If I had a cigar, I’d be a Mafioso from a black and white movie. I’m certain I could pilfer one from Gio’s humidor in the corner, and he wouldn’t dare say shit.
“Tommaso, I need a date. We can’t just wait around indefinitely for the wedding. Mano’s not the only one with meetings. I won’t jump just because Mano says so. If I don’t get a date, then we’ll come when I’m good and ready. If it’s an inconvenience to him, then oh well.”
I sip my wine. It’s good, so I savor the taste.