Chapter 16 #2
I blow out a shaky sigh, modesty warring with my raging desire for this fierce, beautiful man. No one has ever looked at me in broad daylight like this; George is the only sexual partner I’ve ever had, and we always have sex with the lights off.
I take another breath and shove the fleeting thought of my traitorous fiancé from my mind. As though he read my moment of disquiet, Massimo says something in Italian. I don’t understand the words, but his cadence is low and soothing. Reverent.
Any rising doubts about our physical intimacy melt away, and I allow myself to surrender to my desire.
Keeping my wrists pinned, he lowers his face to my chest, his eyes burning into mine. I watch with fascination as his clever tongue flicks my nipple. Pleasure arcs through me, and a wanton moan issues from my chest.
His teeth graze the hard bud on an almost cruelly amused smile. He’s toying with me, indulging himself. His tongue explores the shape of my breasts as though he’s memorizing my curves. With every deviant stroke, my belly coils tighter with need. My inner walls contract, aching to be filled.
I squirm beneath him, arching my back to seek his hot mouth on my nipples. His low chuckle rolls through my body, a vibration that reaches deep into my core.
“Please…” I moan again, lifting my hips in invitation.
All thoughts have been obliterated from my mind; I’m consumed by erotic desperation.
His silver eyes sear my soul. “Say my name.”
“Massimo,” I whisper, barely finding the air to reply.
“Louder,” he commands, an almost fanatical light making his wolf’s eyes gleam.
“Please, Massimo…”
“Tell me what you want.” His calloused fingertips tease my belly, just below my navel. “Beg me to touch your pretty pussy.”
My clit throbs in time with my racing heart, my desire for him so intense that it hurts.
“Please touch me.”
He bares his teeth at me, a primal warning.
“Please touch my pussy, Massimo.” Despite the embarrassment that floods my cheeks with heat, I speak clearly.
I’ll do anything he says if he’ll grant me the release I so desperately need.
He strokes my cheek and gently squeezes my wrists with his other hand. “Stay.”
He releases me from the shackle of his long fingers, his touch trailing down the length of my arms, over the sides of my torso, down to my hips.
He grasps me firmly and tugs me to the edge of the table, so that my toes brush the floor.
His grip shifts to my thighs, parting them as he drops to his knees before me.
“What are you doing?” I ask in a breathy whisper.
“You were such a good girl asking for what you want,” he rumbles, his breath hot on my slick folds. “I’m going to taste you.”
My entire body flushes, and I squirm in his hold. “You don’t have to… No one has ever…” I trail off, my mouth going dry at the feral hunger that sharpens his stunning features.
“This pussy is mine.” He stakes his claim with a long swipe of his tongue over my swollen labia.
He flicks my clit, and stars burst across my vision.
“I’m the only one to taste you,” he declares, savage and possessive. “Your sweet cunt belongs to me. I could feast on you every day.”
“Massimo…” I whimper his name, tormented by embarrassment and desire. This is hedonistic, more decadent and deviant than any sex act I’ve ever allowed myself.
But I’ve never known that desire can be intense enough to hurt, relentless enough to drive me to the edge of madness.
He presses a tender kiss directly over my clit, and a strangled cry tears from my chest as pleasure torments me. My core contracts, and a fresh wash of arousal wets my inner thighs.
His animal snarl rumbles over my heated flesh, and I hold my breath, bracing for the next surge of shocking ecstasy.
He pulls away, every line of his powerful body taut with strain.
I reach for him, my fingers tangling in his hair to tug him closer to my needy clit.
Despite the tension in his jaw, he lets out a cruel chuckle.
“Greedy girl,” he says, an admonishment and praise. “You’ll get your reward later.”
“What?” I ask on a little puff of air, bereft without his touch.
He lifts me off the table and sets me down on my feet. I stare up at him, eyes wide. His thumb traces the line of my pout, and my sensitive skin tingles with residual lust. I sway toward him, desperate for more.
“Believe me,” he rumbles. “This hurts me just as much as it hurts you. But you have to be good for me first. Behave tonight, and I’ll make you come so hard that your voice is hoarse from screaming my name.”
I shake my head to clear it and take a step back.
What am I doing?
I swallow hard and do my best to quell the lust that’s temporarily overtaken my sanity. It would be far too easy to become dangerously attached to Massimo. No one has ever looked at me the way he does: like he would do anything to taste me again.
He licks his lips in a lewd display, showing me just how hungry he is for more. My inner muscles flutter at the sight of his raw need. This powerful, dangerous man dropped to his knees before me. He pleasured me in a way no man has ever offered me.
Your sweet cunt belongs to me. I could feast on you every day. I shiver at the memory of his crass, possessive declaration.
He dragged me to the edge of orgasm only to deny me. My body burns with indignation and residual lust.
“Go get ready for the party,” he orders, nodding toward the bedroom. “I bought you everything you might need.”
His chest swells with pride, as though providing for me pleases him.
But I know such things always come with a price. He’s already made me malleable to his will by stoking my lust and leaving me wanting. Now, I’ll be indebted to him, unable to repay him for whatever bought for me. He’s asserted his control over me so easily.
I could rail at him, but he’s proven that he’s completely unaffected by my insistence that I want to leave.
Arguing will get me nowhere, and being combative isn’t in my nature, anyway.
I would rather quietly bide my time and assess my situation for any opportunities to escape the cartel stronghold and get safely back to America somehow.
One thing’s for certain: as long as I’m trapped in this suite with Massimo, I don’t have a hope of attaining my freedom. If that means accepting the clothes he bought me so that I have something to wear to this criminal’s party, then I’ll swallow my unease.