Chapter 7 #2
His fingers graze my jaw, light, almost gentle, before sliding down my neck, tracing the line of my pulse. My breath stutters, but I keep my spine straight, refusing to let him see how easily he unsettles me.
"You’ll understand soon enough," Dario murmurs, his eyes locked onto mine like he’s daring me to break first.
I grit my teeth. "You talk in circles like that’s supposed to scare me."
His lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile. "You’re not scared?"
"No."
His hand moves lower and brushes against my collarbone. "Not even a little?"
I shake my head, but the small betrayal of my pulse hammering beneath his touch gives me away. He notices. Of course he does. His smirk widens as he watches the rise and fall of my chest, as if my body’s reaction is an answer I can’t take back.
"Liar," he whispers.
I slap his hand away, ignoring the way my skin burns where he touches me. "You don’t know a damn thing about me."
Dario doesn’t look remotely offended. If anything, he looks amused. "I know more than you think, princess. And I know your husband hasn’t moved the earth to find you, no matter how much you want to believe he has."
I stiffen. "You don’t know that."
"Don’t I? It’s been days. No ransom calls. No desperate negotiations and searches. It isn’t even on the news. Doesn’t that seem odd for a man who supposedly loves you beyond reason?"
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Because he’s right.
I know Enzo. He’s a man of action. A man who would have burned the city down to find me. So why hasn’t he? The question scratches at my ribs, but I shove it down, unwilling to let Dario see even the slightest crack in my armor.
"He’ll come for me," I say, but it doesn’t land with the confidence I want it to.
Dario tilts his head like he’s studying something fragile and breakable. "If you say so."
Anger flares in my chest. "You don’t know anything about my marriage."
"I know you’re defending a man who hasn’t even tried to find you," he says flatly. "I know you’re standing here, trying to convince yourself you’re still in love with a ghost while looking at me like you want to claw your way out of your own skin and beg for my cock."
"Go to hell."
He laughs. "Already there, princess. But I don’t have to be alone."
I scowl. "So that’s it? You’re going to keep me here just to mess with my head?"
"No," he says. "I’m going to keep you here until there’s nothing left of you for Enzo to come back to. Now I’m going to prove to you I mean business and fuck you right here, right now."
“What?”
His words sink into my bones, and for the first time since waking up in this nightmare, a real, tangible fear slithers through me.
Because I don’t think he’s bluffing.
“Take it off.”
I half expect him to say something else, to fire back with his harsh, venomous words like he usually does, but Dario does none of that.
Instead, he pulls his hands from his pockets in a slow, almost deliberate manner and nods.
“I said take off your dress, Vittoria,” he says.
“What?” Instinctively, I bring my hands up to cover my breasts.
I’m not wearing a bra, and my nightdress is two sizes too small, so I bet he can see all of me.
Yet, with his stern, powerful voice, he tells me to undress. “I’m not doing that with you—”
“It wasn’t a request.” He seems impatient, as if I’m teetering on the edge of his bad side and the mere act of conversing with me is exhausting.
Still, I keep my shoulders straight and hold his stare.
That’s a rookie mistake because, if I thought Dario was breathtaking before, being this close to a man burning with desire is something beyond anything I can describe.
The soft brown of his eyes has darkened to an intense hue, nearly black now. His overly long lashes frame the danger in those eyes, but not for long. When he maintains his focus on my face, all I can think about is how much I want him to touch me.
Oh no. I shouldn’t be thinking about this, right?
“I am not getting naked for you—”
Before I can finish my sentence, his hands are on me in a way that is rough yet gentle. Before this moment, I didn’t think it was possible to experience such force and yet feel cared for.
Well, until Dario.
I instinctively try to fight him off. I’ve learned how to push back and escape a man’s hold, but Dario keeps me rooted to the spot, my back pressed firmly against the wall.
“I told you it wasn’t a fucking request,” he breathes, lifting both my hands above my head to secure them there.
He’s considerably taller than I am, and standing before such a dangerous man, I feel like David facing Goliath.
With one hand keeping mine pinned, he uses the other to rip at my dress. I gasp as we both hear the fabric tear.
When the cool, damp air washes over me, I realize, without glancing down, that I am completely exposed before him.
“What you don’t seem to understand, even now, Vittoria, is that I own you…your body…your damn soul, and I’m going to take it however I want.”
I groan, trying to pull away from him. Just as I feel his grip loosening, Dario pushes back with urgency, slamming me against the wall behind me.
A sharp pain rushes through me for a few seconds after the impact, so I shut my eyes and swallow the discomfort.
When I open my eyes again, Dario’s attention is still fixed on my face.
“If you’re going to kill me, just do it right now!
” I think I’m shaking; I feel the tremors when Dario releases my hands to cup my cheeks.
His fingers are coarse as he massages my skin, perfectly framing my face.
I’m torn between this simmering anger and an overwhelming sexual attraction, so much that when his fingers drift downward to the side of my mouth, it takes every ounce of willpower not to moan.
“I’m not going to let you do this. I am not—”
“What are you going to do about it, princess?” His question is both playful and serious, as if he wants to hear my elaborate plan to make him back down.
There’s determination in his eyes as they fixate on my nose, my mouth, the swell of my breasts. Dario covers one of my breasts with his hand and meticulously swipes at the nipple. It doesn’t take long for it to harden, staring pointedly back at him, ready for his willing, skillful hands.
“See?” He chuckles, breathless. “You say you don’t want this, but your body betrays you. Your body wants me to touch you… to kiss you… to fuck your brains out like the filthy slut I know you are. Right here and now.”
Fuck. If that isn’t exactly what my body wants. Desperately.
But… “I hate you so much!”
He twirls my nipples between his fingers before releasing them, ducking his head toward the pool. “Get in the water.”
The hardness in his tone and the scowl etched across his brow tell me he won’t take kindly to any arguments.
I step away from him and move to the edge of the pool.
Glancing back at Dario, I’m painfully aware of how he watches my every sway; he’s seen me completely naked—raw and vulnerable.
I drop into the clear blue waters, relieved to find it’s not as deep as it appears.
Reality hits when I notice his eyes are on my naked breasts. If I move deeper, I’d be fully submerged. But just as I consider it, his voice rumbles, commandingly, “Don’t even dare.”
I stop and look at him. “What?”
“I want to see your boobs, so go back to where you were before.”
Reluctantly obeying, I return as he begins undoing the knot of his trunks.
“Wait! Are you going to come in too?” My voice is hoarse and wobbly, but the thought of being naked with him ignites a wave of heat.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he slides his hand into the band of his trunks and takes it down.
Fuck.
My jaw drops at the sight of him. His torso is covered in tattoos; some Italian letters snake across his shoulder blades while others tangle together, giving him a ghoulish allure.
He’s completely naked, standing with feet apart, watching me.
I can’t help but ogle him. Dario is effortlessly handsome when clothed, but naked?
Glorious. My body becomes powerless in response to his sheer hotness. Cause, damn, he’s inviting.
I can only think of one thing looking at his cock, all hard with angry veins lining it. I want that inside me. Right now.
He strides across the space and leaps into the water with me. My feet are pleasantly grounded on the pool's tiled floor, but when he bumps into me, I relinquish my balance, letting myself float. Dario steadies me with one hand, pressing his huge, muscular body against mine in a defiant embrace.
He cups my face and slams his mouth on mine. For a few seconds, conflicting thoughts flood my mind. I’ve been kissed before—by ex-lovers and my husband—but never like this. Dario tastes divine. As he kisses me, my body melts in response.
He’s kissing me like he is fucking me.
His tongue invades my mouth, a sensation unlike any other. He twirls it around, owning me with each thrust. He nibbles at my lower lip, then dives to bite my neck, groaning as he worships my body with slow, demanding fervor.
“I…I can’t… I hate you… Dario, please…”
I’m literally muttering gibberish at this point.
I should be strong, but against him, my body feels like jelly. He straightens after a moment, smirking. The damn bastard!
“Do you hate me, or do you hate that your body desperately needs to be manhandled sexually by me?”
He has a point, but I believe this has gone too far. “You want my husband… that’s who you’re after. Please let me go.”
When he tries to touch me again, I pull back, ready to fight as hard as I can, but Dario lunges after me, trapping me between the rails and the wall.
For a few seconds, I squirm in his arms, screaming for help that I know won’t come.
Then, without warning, Dario slips his fingers inside me.
As if he knows the effect it will have, he lifts his fingers, curling them upward deep inside me.
“Oh… fuck… ooh…”
He pauses, pulling his fingers out of the water and dangling them in front of me, demonstrating his power over me. That he can take pleasure away just as easily as he gives it.
Why has it never felt like this with Enzo? Why does my body crave and respond to this man as if he’s my goddamn source of air?
Enzo may love me, but he’s never shown me the different ways my body can pulse with desire.
He’s never prioritized my pleasure over his own or allowed me to reach orgasm.
With Enzo, things can get rough, especially when he’s angry about something I did, but he never really touches me.
He doesn’t look at me the way Dario does, doesn’t kiss my neck or whisper sweet, dirty words.
There’s no desperation in his voice when he tells me he can’t wait to fuck me.
His kisses are plain, bland, ordinary. They don’t feel like an out-of-body experience—nothing like what I feel with Dario.
I don’t spend my nights dreaming about how good it can be with Enzo, how good it was, or how I can’t wait to see him again.
As I prepare to protest, he draws me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist. I feel the hardness of his cock pressing against my hips, and my throat dries instinctively.
How do I explain that I need this, yet don’t want it at the same time?
“Feel what your body does to me,” he growls in my ear before sliding his fingers back inside me, finger-fucking me. At first, his movements lack rhythm, almost as if he doesn’t want me to enjoy it long enough to come. But then he changes his pace, and my body wholeheartedly welcomes it.
“You’re so fucking tight and hot around my fingers. You’re… perfect.”
I grab hold of his arm as he continues his relentless assault. “How can something feel so good and so wrong?”
“Let go,” he whispers, nibbling at my ear. “Won’t you let me fuck you, huh? Stop holding out on me, Vittoria, and let me give you a taste of my heaven.”
My name has never sounded so beautiful, exotic, and hot. He calls it like an anthem only he knows, and my body burns for it.
Without warning, he lifts me and slams me down on his cock. “Dario. Oh my fucking God…”
I feel him. Deep. Hard. Harsh.
He pulls out and thrusts back inside me, eliciting a whimper. Again and again, despite my overwhelming urge to fight him off, I can’t help but let out whimpers and moans. I’ve never been fucked like this before—his body feels like both poison and cure, leaving me powerless to control myself.
He licks the curve of my neck and growls in my ear. “Look at you, baby, moaning…” He thrusts into me again, pounding deep inside. “…whimpering. You take my cock real good, don’t you?”
“Yes… I like how you fuck me…”
“Yeah? Wanna come on my fucking cock?”
I nod against him, moaning loudly as he continues to pound my pussy in the water.
“Tell me what you want.”
I swallow hard, feeling the sweetness build inside me. “Deeper… please.”
He holds me close, groaning as he slams me hard against him.
“Harder… yeah… oh, just like that… please don’t stop.”
The force of him slamming his cock inside of me brings me to the edge and I jump over the ledge, falling into a wild orgasm that has me screaming and rocking against him.
He doesn’t stop thrusting. A minute or two later, he groans loudly, spilling his cum inside me.
We stay like that for a few moments before he pulls away and drops me back into the water.
I watch him climb out of the pool to grab a towel from a recliner. He wraps it around himself, giving me a look filled with disdain, hate, and something else I can’t quite name.
Then, with a voice that sounds cold and cruel, he says, “Just like I told you, Vittoria. I will break you.”
The door to the pool area swings open, and two of his men walk in. I immediately cover my exposed breasts, listening as he instructs them to take me back to my room. Then he walks out, leaving me naked, ashamed, and angry with two men.
Fuck him.