14. Enzo
“I am not going to Italy,”Kennedy argues, though rather unconvincingly. “I can’t.”
This time, it’s her bra drawer I rummage through. I pull out the black lace number with the tags still intact and toss it to her. “Why not?”
“Why not?” she echoes, dropping the bra into the bag like a good girl despite her protests. “Because I have to work.”
“From what I hear, you’re down to just the one job.”
“How do you know that?”
I brush off her question, keeping my focus on the point I want to make. If only she knew how much I stalked her. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone,” I assert, my tone matter-of-fact.
She nibbles that plump lower lip like she’s mulling it over, and I know I’ve almost got her.
“What you need is a vacation,” I counter, sidestepping the fact that her debt is no where near being paid, with Uncle Andre being the asshole he is.
It’s pointless, so delving into all those details when working herself around the clock won’t get her any less killed.
What she needs is an escape.
And what I need is to fuck this girl out of my system once and for all before I have to hand her over to Uncle Andre.
True, I’ll be rushed, but a week should do it.
I picture her in nothing but the black bra and panties, on her knees, her big brown eyes staring up at me as I fist her hair and slide my thick cock between her full lips and down her throat.
The thought of Kennedy on all fours is glorious—and abruptly shattered as Rocco comes into view behind her. “I’m gonna have a great time teaching your little pet how to take it in the ass for me.”
All of a sudden, Rocco and I are struggling over Kennedy like she’s a goddamned wishbone when, out of nowhere, a low growl rips through my chest.
Followed by a Ruff!
The little dog barks, jolting me back to reality and intensifying the pain throbbing in the center of my head.
I pet his head and refocus on Kennedy. Her soft voice is uttering something adorably predictable and inconsequential. “I still have to teach,” she says.
“I’m sure the owner will figure something out,” I say, my tone brisk and authoritative. But her persistent pout softens my demeanor. “It’s only for a week. She can manage without you for that long,” I insist, though, after having met her, I have my doubts.
Kennedy remains resolute. “I need to give her notice.”
“You need to pack, Bella. Now.” I hold up the little dog to her face. “I’m taking a hostage until you’re done.”
She makes a grab for the dog, which is ridiculous. I simply hold him over my head, out of her reach.
“Give him back,” Kennedy insists, bouncing up on her toes to try and reach Truffles with surprising determination.
“Pack,” I counter firmly, my voice low as I glance at her bouncing breasts. I know it’s a cheap thrill, but this woman has me wound up tighter than a drum with all this sexual tension.
A few months back, I would’ve had my fill—sated myself with supermodel sex fiends three at a time. But ever since this woman barged into my life, I swear, one look and she broke my dick.
The damn thing works for her and only her—totally fixated on her full lips and gorgeous, fuckable tits—and he hasn’t even had her yet.
Goddamnit, I am fucking her to Milan and back again, and no one is stopping me.
Not even her.
Sadly, she gives up. “He’s going to pee on your head.”
What? Is that a thing?
At this point,I drop the dog and back her into a wall. “I said pack.”
Her big eyes meet mine as she nibbles that lush, lower lip. “If I did go,”she says meekly as if it’s a choice, “could I visit my sister?”
Pressing my body against hers, I let the weight of my thick, angry, hard cock sink into that pretty head of hers. “You won’t be in Italy for your sister, Bella. I’m not sharing you with your sister or anyone else. You’ll be there for me.” I fist her hair and steal access to her neck. I nip her ear and whisper, “And I’ll be there for you. Only you.”
“Just one week?” she breathes.
She smells like she smelled the other night—nothing special. Just a hint of cheap drug store soap and fear and her, and it’s fucking addictive. “One week, Kennedy. And then I’ll let you go.”
For good.
Liar!
Shut up.
She swallows hard, her voice a raspy bundle of nerves. “And what do I get out of it?”
My eyes bulge. “An all-expenses-paid trip to Italy. Reprieve from this hellhole.” Seriously, who needs convincing of this? Entire competitive game shows are built around it, for fuck’s sake.
“And to be your living, breathing blow-up doll?”
“You make it sound like a bad thing.”
The fire in her eyes is a wall of resistance that I either need to smother out or walk away from.
“Look around, Bella.” She does. “What could possibly be holding you back?”
She thinks for a moment, and finally says, “You. You’re holding me back.”