Chapter 95
Caterina
THREE WEEKS LATER
Serenity was staying with my father tonight.
I told him I needed to do something with Harlow, but Harlow thought I was in New York for the night to help Roman with something last minute.
She knew we would do this, but she told me to pick a day so she could be surprised and it could be real.
I knew this was something she wanted to do, but I was also mortified I would trigger her.
She didn’t want me to be soft until I was already touching her on the bed of the summer house.
My staff knew not to say anything, but it was eleven, so everyone should be in bed. Most of my men were away from the house, and the ones who were here, knew it was a scene. I explained it as carefully as I could and used the example of what Luca and Lizzy did years ago.
We sat down and talked about everything a few days prior to this. I needed confirmation that this was what she wanted. She reassured me she wanted this scene done exactly how she described it and how Serena told me. It didn’t help that I was scared, and I wasn’t afraid to admit it
My hands wouldn’t stay still. I rubbed my thumb over my knuckles until my skin was raw.
My breath kept coming in too fast as I tried to control it and tell myself not to let my fear become the one thing that ruined this.
I needed to do something with my hands before my fidgeting gave everything away and ruined this scene.
The air thickened with expectation, as I continued up the stairs and oddly enough, I felt like I was the one exposed in this scene and I was the one leading it.
I shook the thoughts from my mind, attempting to regain my spiraling control.
I needed to focus on her and not the inner turmoil in my chest.
She wanted this, needed it. Harlow was trusting me with vulnerable parts of herself, and it was how I helped her heal. I was her safe space, so I needed to act like it. What I was doing was for her. She trusted me enough to do this fantasy, to heal her wounds, and to help her gain control back.
Goddamn. Her trust was a privilege, but fuck was it a lot of pressure.
I was still debating on if I was making a mistake or not.
This was a line I never thought I would cross.
What if I did trigger her, and it fractured something in our relationship that we couldn’t fix?
Even though she didn’t know when it was happening, I constantly asked her if she was sure about the scene. I needed to know, needed reassurance.
“You are the only person I want this with.”
My feet trudged to my bedroom like I was walking through thick mud on a rainy day. There was tension in my ribs, coiling and gnawing, but I pushed it back. My head felt electrified, restless and loud, but I had steadier hands for now. This was a scene, and I was acting it for her.
Harlow was sleeping peacefully on her side in a silk, red nightgown.
The blanket was dipping down her hips. I pulled the comforter completely off her body, and she turned onto her stomach, kicking her leg up.
She looked sinful. I needed to focus, and then I could have her when we were where we needed to be.
I got on the bed and grabbed her wrists, pulling them behind her back and crossing her wrists.
She stirred slightly as I tied my silk rope around her wrists.
I grabbed a fistful of her dark hair, jerking her head back.
She screamed, but I quickly gagged her with a pair of her panties before adding duct tape.
I flipped her onto her back, pausing to assess the situation.
I catalogued her breathing, inspected her body language and looked into her eyes. Harlow looked certain, grounded in her choice to continue the scene. I kept going. I pulled my knife out, tracing it up her legs. My mistake was keeping them unbound when she caught me in the stomach with her foot.
Goddamn, she was feisty.
I clutched her ankles, pulling her down the bed.
Her eyes grew wide as I pressed myself between her thighs.
“Keep fighting; it turns me on.” She struggled against me as I secured her legs and tied them with rope.
“I’m gonna have fun with you.” And then I covered her head with the black bag, securing it with rope.
I grasped her legs before she had a chance to kick me.
Damn, she was defiant, but she wasn’t quick enough.
Then I threw her over my shoulder as she struggled against me.
It wasn’t a part of the scene we agreed on, but I rubbed circles on her lower back to help ease her.
I knew she needed this, but I also needed her to know I would stop at any moment.
Harlow was mumbling nonsense through her gag, and she was shaking. Only I didn’t know if it was from fear or anticipation. Maybe it was a combination of both.
I took us downstairs to my garage and put her in the back of my Escalade.
My hand slid down her body, stopping at her thigh, before sliding up her inner thigh.
She spread her legs open slightly as far as the rope would let her, and I brushed my fingers against her panties, pleased to feel wetness.
My fore finger pressed against her needy clit, and she groaned.
I grazed the hem of her nightgown, and I ripped the fabric clean in two.
It was delicate fabric as it slipped to her sides, leaving her exposed in front of me.
Her breathing became more erratic, her chest rising and falling, but her nipples were rock hard.
I leaned forward, taking one between my teeth and biting it hard.
Harlow screamed through her gag, and I laughed as I pulled back.
“Scream all you want, bellezza. No one is going to save you.”