19. Kennedy
Enzo pullsme into another toe-curling kiss when several knocks sound at the door.
“What?” he snaps.
The door creaks open, just a fraction, and the flight attendant keeps her eyes averted as she speaks. Like she’s been in this position so many times, What Has Been Seen Cannot be Unseen is written all over the poor woman’s face. “Sorry, sir. We’re about to take off.”
He nods and leads me by the hand back into the main cabin, past Savannah and Truffles, guiding me to my seat. He plants another soft kiss on my lips, a lingering caress, as he clicks the belt around my waist. “Need more booze?” his raspy voice offers.
Shivering, I shake my head softly. “No, thanks.”
He settles into the seat beside me, and I steal a glance back at Truffles. He’s curled up under a plush Dalmatian print blanket, sound asleep.
Savannah’s buried in her phone. Despite her prim posture without a hair out of place, I’m betting she’s knee-deep in Regency porn or something equally scandalous.
Suddenly, the room lurches, and I snap forward, gripping the armrests with white-knuckle force.
The next few bumps are jarring, each one sending a shiver down my spine. Then we really pick up speed.
I make the mistake of glancing out the window, and my heart lodges in my throat.
I hate this.
I hate that I’m ready to do anything. Anything. Beg if I have to. And not in a fun way. In the I’m about to die way. The next bump throws one word out of my throat. “Please!”
“Please?” Enzo replies, confused.
“Can we please drive?”
“To Italy?”
Okay, fine. I’m too delirious to know what I’m saying.
For a long beat, he studies me as frustration rolls off him in waves. Along with it, the sexual tension that’s always brewing just below his surface.
His words come out stilted. “You’ve never flown?”
I shake my head. Another bump, and I cry out, latching on to his arm.
“And you’re frightened?” he asks, his tone dark and amused. Because my claws digging into his skin aren’t enough of a hint.
Petrified would be a better description. So much so that I’m borderline hyperventilating, trembling my way to a full-blown panic attack.
I manage to squeak out a small, “Yes.”
The moment we ascend into the sky, he peels me away from his body with deliberate slowness.
Then, in one brisk move, the world tilts as he whisks me to the back of the plane and tosses me to the center of the bed.
Ah, yes. The bed.
Because that’s how rich, powerful men roll. With a king-size bed tucked in the tail end of their flying death tube.
Swiftly, he positions himself over me, his knees locking me in place. Wide-eyed, I panic. “What are you doing?”
He tears off his tie and smiles as his gaze holds mine. “Showing you the only thing you need to fear, Bella, is me.”
What? I open my mouth. To protest. To beg for mercy. The hell if I know. Squirming does nothing. I’m trapped beneath his weight.
Without warning, his massive hand locks around my throat, nearly cutting off my air.
Instincts surge through me like a raging river. My two small hands barely manage to wrap around his, my body thrashing as every part of me focuses solely on him.
The more I struggle, the tighter his grip, his darkening eyes fixed on mine.
Near tears and out of breath, my body gives up and I still.
His grip eases enough that I suck in a breath. “What the actual fu?—”
“Are you wet, Bella?”
Wet? What? Why would I be.. .
Heat rushes up my neck—embarrassment blurring with shame—as I begin to register the thrum of arousal between my thighs.
I’m not just wet. I’m soaked.
“Answer me,” he demands.
I squeeze shut my eyes. So wet. “No,” I breathe.
A feral moan escapes his chest. “You’ll pay for that lie, Bella.” Slowly, he moves his body beside mine, but doesn’t let go. With nothing but his iron grip around my neck, he’s in total control.
Enzo’s always in control.
“Who do you think you are?”
“You want to know who I am, Bella? I’m your greatest fear. Your worst nightmare. An untamed beast. The devil himself. And the only man who will ever fuck you again.” His eyes darken. “Touch yourself.”
He doesn’t understand what he’s asking of me. How could he? “I can’t.”
He doesn’t ease up. With his other hand, he holds up the vibrator. Did I drop it on the bed? Tears prick at my eyes, burning a trail down my skin as he traces the toy along the swell of my breasts and down between my legs. “I said, touch yourself.”
I can’t do this. All I feel is Jimmy’s disgusting hands between my legs. It’s either you or Riley, Kennedy. Like it was my choice to let him fuck me with whatever he had. His fingers. Dildos. A fucking broom handle. Jimmy’s voice. You or Riley.
“Stop!” I scream.
“Shh.” The shush is a long, slow release of air from a valve. At this point, I breathe again, but barely. I’m scraping at his grip so hard, I have to be drawing blood.
I suck in a breath, my eyes squeezed shut. “Let me go,” I manage to get out before his hold tightens again.
“You came here of your own free will, Bella. That choice was yours. And for the next week, that choice was your last.”
Alarmed, I freeze. “Enzo, please?—”
Lightly, he nudges the vibrator along the swell of my ass. “I’m just resting it here. Reminding you why you need to be good.” Enzo’s gaze lands between my legs. “Pull your panties away. I want to see how wet you are.”
I’m not sure which is more mortifying: me getting off on his choke hold, or him seeing me soaking wet. And, soaking wet in the ugliest, plainest white panties known to man.
Once again, his grip tightens until I see stars. The look in his eyes is so hungry. So dark. “Show me,” he pleads to my lips.
His voice is so coaxing. So soft. I slide a hand down my body, slowly obeying his command until I hook them and pull them aside, letting him see it. See all of me so bare and vulnerable and wet, I can hardly breathe.
His grip eases up. “Beautiful.”
My breaths are fevered as his fingers skate along mine. “Make yourself feel good, Bella.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but part of me wants this. Maybe it’s his tone. The way his nostrils flare, desperate to catch a whiff of me from here. Like he’s grappling for control and might totally lose it all, if only I touch myself.
In this moment, there’s no one else and nothing he wants more. He’s coming totally unglued, and all he’s doing is watching me.
And in some dark corner of my twisted world, I like being watched.
I start slowly, teasing my skin, the swollen bud of my clit. Tracing pleasure up and down as his jaw clenches tight. “Mmm,” he growls low.
My back arches without permission. And the words that come out of my mouth are half delirious, half fuck you. “Is this what you want to see, Mr. D’Angelo?”
“That pretty pussy drips honey and needs to be fucked, Bella.” I sink into his voice, my body reeling with desire until he says, “Rub yourself. Now.”
That’s it, fuck that cunt, you filthy whore.
My momentary hesitation earns me the vibrator being turned on. “Wait,” I gasp, rushing to do as he says. Your hand, whore. Or something else goes inside.
My fingers make pained movements up and down as I bite back tears, desperate to block out his voice—Jimmy’s voice. You’re a slut. Just like your mother.
Enzo nips my neck. Hard. Snapping me back to the present. Air rushes into my lungs, and instantly, I stop.
His gaze pierces mine, igniting shame and fear across my face like wildfire. His fingertips gently graze mine, exerting a soft, subtle pressure.
“This is mine,” he lulls, working a coaxing, sensual cadence that smooths away the rough edges and kills all the pain. “You will worship it. As I will worship it. Now, show me what that sweet pussy needs, Bella.” His kiss is like a drug, intoxicating and addictive. “What you need,” he whispers.
Without my permission, my fingers work in tandem with his. A slow exploration that’s lava against my skin—shame overshadowed by desire.
Lust.
Need.
Want.
My fingers glide up and down, in and out—rubbing, rubbing—erasing the thorns and hurt and pain I’ve felt for so long. Too long.
Cool air hits my breasts, heavy as I feel my blouse being opened, my bra unclasped, and his scruff teasing my naked flesh. His tongue lingers along my skin, and his fingers play in and out of mine.
“Is this what you like, Bella?”
Words escape me. I nibble on my lip, surrendering to the feeling of our touch—his touch.
“You’re so ready, Bella.” I hear him through my detached state—caught between a dream and rising nirvana. “Come for me.” His fingers work me—then mine—thrusting in and out.
So intense. So goddamn good.
When my nipple is sucked hard, the sensation is blinding. My back whips up, arching as the orgasm rips me apart from the inside out.
A cry of ecstasy pierces the air as I shatter like a glass figurine hit by a baseball bat—a million tiny pieces forever changed, breathless.
I’m only half aware of him removing whatever remains of my clothes. Of his mouth sucking each of my fingers, licking them clean, and savoring the taste.
He kisses his way between my legs. His tongue takes one long lick—a match strike against my core that has me gasping for air.
With a guttural growl, his voice reverberates through the air, igniting a rush of goosebumps and conflicting sensations within me. Authoritative and charged, he’s primal. Commanding.
“Again.”
Oh, fuck.