Chapter 22 Besiana
Besiana
I’m still shaking when we get to the Rosetti mansion, my teeth clattering like wind-up toys.
Domenico doesn’t say a word, his hand gripping the steering wheel so hard I’m waiting for it to snap in half.
He slams the car door shut, and we’re inside before I catch my breath.
I follow him through the freezing halls.
“What the hell were you doing there, Besiana?” he asks finally, each word as sharp as broken glass. My voice is trapped somewhere deep in my chest. I look at him and feel everything—fury, worry, relief—rolling off him like thunder.
“Saying goodbye,” I manage. “For good.”
His eyes narrow, suspicious. “You didn’t have to go to his house.”
I rub my arms against the cold, my head still spinning. The marble floors gleam under the harsh lights. I can feel him staring. He steps closer, and my heart clenches.
“His house? It was once my house too.”
“Not anymore,” he snaps. “So why the hell were you there?”
“I had to see him one last time,” I whisper, as much to myself as to him.
He’s quiet. It makes my skin itch. We stand in the empty living room, the cold seeping through my clothes and settling in my bones. He doesn’t let up. “Why now?”
The words pile up inside me, an avalanche threatening to break loose. The truth is on the tip of my tongue. How I was spying for Baba, passing on information, how the person who leaked the ixaphorine warehouse location was me, not Rafe, and how I’m so so sorry.
But before my secrets spill from me, Dom turns to face me, dark fury etched into his features.
“Are you spying for the Albanians, Besiana?” He stalks closer.
“I don’t demand your love or even your fondness, but I do demand two things of my wife.
The first is loyalty.” He closes his hand around my throat, squeezing just tight enough to make my breath bubble out of me.
“If you aren’t loyal to me and my family, you don’t get to live. Do you understand?”
My confessions freeze in my throat. The man who made love to me and told me he loved me has vanished. This man is harsh and cold, willing to exact his fury on me if he ever discovers what I did.
He releases his grip on my throat just enough for me to nod.
“Say it. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.”
"Would you like to know the second thing I demand of my wife?”
I nod.
“Not your fondness. Not your love. Just your body,” he says without a hint of softness in his voice.
He steps back and rakes his gaze down my body, slowly, running it over my fur coat, down to where my feet stand in heels sharp enough to poke out someone’s eye.
“Take off your coat,” he says.
I slide it off my shoulders and move to take it to the coat room, but he stops me in my tracks. “Throw it onto the sofa.”
I comply, standing there in my skirt suit, jacket done up over a dusty rose blouse.
“Jacket,” he says, and I unbutton it, glance up at him for instructions, and he just nods to the sofa, so I throw it on top of my fur coat.
The heat in his gaze is enough to melt my clothes right off me, but he doesn’t touch me. He stands a couple of yards away, his gaze glued to my body, and my fear morphs into excitement, my heart racing for another reason.
“Take off your skirt.”
I pause for a moment before complying, and ask, “Why?”
His voice is gravel. “Because bad girls need punishment.”
He crosses the room and unbuttons his suit jacket, casting it aside. His eyes never leave me as I carefully step out of my skirt, laying it over the fur and jacket.
My legs feel like jelly, and I have to fight the instinct to cover my body with my hands.
He circles around me, his steps echoing in the quiet room. “There are consequences for your actions, Besiana,” he murmurs into my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
“Unbutton your blouse,” he commands. My fingers tremble slightly as I undo the first button, then the next, until my blouse hangs open.
His eyes darken with desire, but there's a hardness to them that sends shivers down my spine.
The fabric falls open and then off my shoulders, leaving me in just my lingerie and heels.
Domenico's eyes darken further, like a storm rolling in over the sea. His broad chest rises and falls heavily, his breathing matching mine.
"Bra."
I comply, my heart pounding in my chest and heat pooling low in my belly. His hand brushes against my waist as he steps around me, circling me like a predator. Despite the fear, there’s an undeniable thrill racing through my veins.
He’s behind me now, his breath warm on my neck as he whispers, “Turn around.” I obey, turning slowly to face him.
Then he reaches for the zip of his trousers. I watch stunned as he lowers them, revealing just enough to have my heart skipping beats. “On your knees, Besiana.”
My knees buckle under me and I’m on the cold marble floor before I can comprehend his command.
“What about your family? They could arrive home any minute.”
He puts a finger under my chin and raises it so I am looking into his eyes. “Your only concern right now is doing exactly as I say. Do you understand?”
I nod.
“Say it.”
“I understand,” I say.
He rubs the tip of his silken cock over my lips, and I let out a shaky breath. “Do you want to please me, Besiana?”
I do. More than anything. I tip forward to take him in my mouth, but he pushes me back with fingertips on my forehead.
“Answer the question.”
My panties are wet, and the sight of his enormous cock right at my mouth is undoing me, I want nothing more than to taste him, to feel his satiny steel inside me, to press my breasts against his thighs.
“Yes, please, let me…”
"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice heavy with desire. I feel the flash of triumph and heat pool even lower in my belly. Domenico's hand pushes gently against the back of my head, guiding me towards him.
I take a deep breath and then, slowly, I take him into my mouth. His hand clenches in my hair at the first touch, a low growl rumbling from his chest. He’s big, bigger than I can comfortably take, but I press my lips together and take him deeper.
His hips jerk forward involuntarily, pushing himself further into my mouth. My eyes water as I look up at him through thick lashes, watching his face contort in pleasure. His grip tightens in my hair as he pulls back and then pushes forward again.
"That's it," he grunts out, eyes dark and focused on me. My knees ache on the cold marble floor, but the discomfort and cold are forgotten with the heady taste of Dom’s dick.
His grip tightens when I hollow my cheeks and he lets out a low groan that echoes through the cold marble room.
Suddenly, he's pulling me away and lifting me back to my feet. He leans in, his lips barely brushing against mine. "Go upstairs and wait for me," he whispers, his hot breath fanning across my face.
My legs feel shaky as I gather my clothes and climb the grand staircase, my heels clicking on the marble, my ass swaying in my panties, and the rest of me completely bare.
The master suite is dark and cold, a stark contrast to the fire Domenico has ignited in me. I kick off my shoes, set down my clothes, and slip under the covers, the satin sheets cool against my warm skin.
Domenico’s demands echo in my mind. Loyalty. And my body. The second I can give him, but the first… I’ve just taken my loyalty back from my father, and I’m not ready to hand it to the next man who demands it. But my body… it is aching for him.
Minutes turn into an eternity as I wait for him. My body aches with anticipation, each second stretching out endlessly.
Finally, the door opens and Domenico steps inside, shedding his clothes as he crosses the room. His gaze locks onto mine, full of heat and promise.
"I’ve been very patient with you, Besiana. That’s over. Get out of bed and remove your panties."
My heartbeat quickens at his command. Hesitating for a moment, I finally throw back the covers and stand up. The cold air causes goosebumps to spread across my skin. I reach down and slowly slide the silk panties off my legs, leaving me completely bare before him.
His gaze follows every movement, his eyes dark and promising. His cock stands at attention, and I lick my lips, remembering the taste of him.
His gaze travels up my body, lingering on the apex of my thighs. “Bend over the bed,” he says, his voice as rough as sandpaper.
A shiver runs through me at his command but I do as he says, bending over and pressing my chest against the soft duvet. I hear him approaching and feel the heat of his body getting closer. Then his hands are on me, roaming my body with an ownership that sends shivers down my spine.
Without warning, his hand comes down hard on my bare behind.
The sharp slap echoes in the room followed by my gasp.
“That’s for going to see your father without telling me,” he growls out.
He rubs the spot he'd just spanked, his touch soothing the sting.
His fingers trail down to my core, teasing me before finally pushing into me.
"Dom," I gasp out, my voice lost in the vastness of the room. He pumps his fingers in and out, his other hand gripping my waist to steady himself. His fingers feel so good inside me, stretching and filling me.
His hand leaves my ass, only to return with another sharp slap. “That’s for putting yourself in danger,” he says, his voice thick with desire and anger.
Tears sting my eyes at the stinging pain but it quickly morphs into a throbbing pleasure that radiates from my ass to my core. There's something incredibly intimate about this moment, about being bared and vulnerable before Domenico, about him marking me as his own in such a primal way.
He draws his fingers out slowly, making me whimper at the loss. “And this...” he says, positioning his hardness at my entrance, his cock hard and heavy against me, “is because I want you. Even when I’m angry, even when I shouldn’t.”
He thrusts into me hard, filling me completely. I cry out, gripping the sheets as he starts to move. His thrusts are slow and agonizingly deep, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body, blurring the line between pleasure and pain.
He takes his time with me, driving into me with a brutal slowness that has me quivering under him. He murmurs in Italian, deep and husky in my ear as his hands grip my hips, guiding me back onto him.
"Io ti possiedo,” I hear him say before his lips brush against the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine. I own you.
His one hand finds my breast while the other grips my hip, keeping me steady as he thrusts into me. I moan louder with each push, the sounds filling the room.
“Do you like it when I fuck you like this, Besiana?” His voice is rough in my ear, his breath hot against my neck. I squeeze my eyes shut, overwhelmed by how much I want him, how much I need him.
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of our bodies colliding.
His fingers dig into my skin as he thrusts into me harder, deeper. His pace is punishing, the sound of our bodies colliding echoing in the room. My body tenses as pleasure starts to coil in my belly, building with each deep thrust.
"Dom," I moan, arching against him, pushing back to meet his thrusts. His grip on my hip tightens, and he grunts in response. "More... please."
He answers by gripping my hair and pulling me upright against him. His free hand slides down my belly to where we're joined, his fingers searching for that spot that makes me scream.
When he finds it, I gasp, my body jolting with the sudden pleasure. "Fuck!" I cry out as he thrusts into me relentlessly.
"That's it," he growls in my ear, the sound of his voice mixed with the sensual Italian words pushing me closer to the edge. "Dimmi che ti piace. Tell me you like it."
"I love it," I manage to say between moans. The pleasure is so intense it's almost unbearable. Dom's pace is punishing.
"That's it, Besiana," he murmurs, his voice hoarse with pleasure. "Come for me."
His words send me over the edge, and I let out a cry as pleasure ripples through me. My body tightens around him as waves of ecstasy wash over me.
He growls low in his throat and thrusts into me a few more times before I feel him stiffen behind me. With a final deep thrust, he lets out a low groan, burying himself deep inside me as he finds his release.
We stay like that for a while, our breaths ragged and bodies tangled. He pulls out of me slowly, and I wince at the sudden emptiness. He straightens, grabbing a discarded piece of clothing to clean up the mess we've made.
He doesn't say anything as he gets dressed, leaving me still breathless on the bed. The room is silent save for our heavy breathing and the rustling of clothes.
He finishes dressing and turns to leave, but not before giving me one last look. His gaze is hardened, his jaw set. It's a look that says he's nowhere near done with me, that there are things unsaid, actions unfinished.
"Get some rest," he says finally, his voice a strange mixture of annoyance and affection. And then he leaves, the door closing with a soft click behind him.
I lay there for a long time after he leaves, my body still pulsing from our encounter. His words echo in my mind: "I own you." It's a chilling thought, but also... enticing. Domenico Rosetti owns me.
But the question is: could I ever own him? Could I ever hold power over this man who seems to have the world at his fingertips?
It's a dangerous thought — one that I quickly push away. Right now, I need to focus on surviving this marriage and keeping my secrets just that — secret.
With one last look at the room that was witness to our raw encounter, I curl up in the bed, pulling the covers over me as I let out a shaky breath.