16. A Little Bit of Princess Treatment
Chapter 16
A Little Bit of Princess Treatment
Antonella
My heart races in my chest. What am I about to get myself into? Agreeing to do anything with him—as a friend— again … not on the bingo card for the year. I’m not about to say no. I mean, we already passed way beyond the point of no return.
“Kinky… stuff,” I repeat, tremendously less confident than before. Why did I agree to verbally express this? I’m at a loss for words. What are words? I don’t know.
“I’m well aware of what you said, amore. I’m waiting for you to elaborate.” His pupils flare, causing his green eyes to darken to full pitch black.
I clear my throat while the words come up to the tip of my tongue. They don’t want to come out. I’m hot, bothered, and flustered. I open my mouth and rapidly shut it again.
He taps four of his fingers on the table, waiting for me to say something. He probably thinks I’m crazy. Who wouldn’t? Here goes nothing. “Bondage things...”
God, I sound pathetic.
The corners of his eyes soften with a smile. “ Right . I gathered that much. You’ve yet to tell me what you want .”
Is he honestly about to make me say everything I want out loud? I can’t do it. How am I supposed to tell this man I want him to fucking degrade me, dominate me, control me, use me, all the a - fuckin’-bove .
My nose scrunches up. “Everything you have to offer,” I squeak out. I can’t do it. It’s too much.
“Are you on birth control?” He rolls up the cuff of his left sleeve.
I blink, the center of my attention fixated on the veins of his forearms and not at all responding to the question. I suppose it’s important for him to know. I clear my throat. “I have the IUD.”
“Good, because after all the fun things I’m going to do to your delicious body and mind, Antonella...” He chuckles while leaning in close to me, and presses a light kiss on my temple.
“So you do know what fun is.”
I like his kisses; they give me the butterflies and overwhelming security, even though it shouldn’t.
“Sì, this is my version of divertimento .” His hand snakes around the front of my neck, bringing my face up toward his. His lips hovering over mine. Touching. Barely. “I’m going to fill you with so much of my cum, it’ll pour out of you.”
Heat rises in my chest; my cheeks flushed at a thousand degrees. “What do we—” I clear my throat, frazzled. “What do we do now?” My eyes fly open, meeting his.
He leans back up. “Finish your résumé, amore.”
Way to kill the vibe.
“Vaffanculo,” I whisper. I maintain my eye contact with him as a fit of giggles begins, knowing damn well he knows what I mean.
He sits in his chair and pats his left thigh. Twice. “Bend over my lap. Now .”
I gulp, hesitating before standing up next to him— not bending over his lap as he told me to do.
Being disobedient on purpose. Curious about what he’ll do.
With one swift motion—I’m brought down over his lap, my arms restrained by my wrists behind my back, with only one of his hands.
“You think being disrespectful is funny , baby?”
Thwack .
He spanks me—right on my ass.
My words are caught in my throat. What do I even say? Thank you ? Honestly, I might. Because the way my pussy is throbbing for attention right now…
Thwack .
“I asked you a question.” He caresses my ass, awaiting my response.
I shake my head, my body responds to him in a way I never imagined it would. I’ve never done this sort of thing before. Wetness immediately pools between my thighs. I love it.
“Words,” he growls.
“No.” I sigh, answering his earlier question. “I don’t think it’s funny.”
“Good girl,” he praises me in a husky tone. Adding over-the-knee spanks to the list of kinks. Oof . “Now, do not do it again. Capisce?”
“Okay.” I hold back a giggle, because I’m lying through my teeth. I’m absolutely going to do it again if this is the treatment I’ll get.
He releases my wrists, allowing me to stand. “Next time, we’ll go over rules and safe words before—I didn’t have the chance to. Don’t say the word vaffanculo to me again, yeah?” He winks as I plop back down on my seat. The slight stinging on my ass adds a little extra spice to it. “I’ll show you the same respect, amore.”
I groan, sitting on my sore butt. I glare at the computer screen with a look of what they call the resting bitch face . Only because I do not want to continue working on this.
He, however, has the most shit-eating-grin plastered across his face. “Now, finish your résumé, amore.”
“It is finished,” I add underneath my breath.
“Is it? My name isn’t there as a reference.” He raises both of his brows and takes a large sip of wine.
I shoot him a death glare. “Oddio, okay. I get it!” I scroll down to the reference page and add his name, the address, and his phone number. I hover over the occupation slot with the mouse. Blinking at me. Intimidating me. What do I type here? “Um, Giordano?”
“Sì, amore?”
“What do I put down for your um… job?”
Maybe he’ll give me a hint or something. This can finally help me on my internalized serial-killer, mafia guy, or FBI agent debate.
Come on, give me something.
“CEO of Marzanetworks Inc.,” he answers in a phlegmatic tone. Honest .
“CEO?” No wonder he has a fuckload of money. Maybe the gossip wasn’t true. And that’s all they are, speculations . Still, it could be a front. No definitive answer. Yet.
“Yes.”
I type it down. I’m not going to question it any further. Never heard of the place, but I’ll trust him. He told me once it’s down the street from the café. I’ll be able to search it up and visit, if he’s not lying.
“Allora… Mr. Marzano ,” I say—to be an ass, of course.
His glare hardens as his grip stiffens around the wine glass. “ Please , it’s what everyone called my father. You make me sound old.”
Old. Good question. “How old are you, anyway? We never got around the question. Wait, let me guess…” I laugh and take a lengthy sip of wine. The dreaded age question. I’m being slightly audacious as I say, “forty... five ?”
I’m kidding, of course. I want to observe his reaction—not because forty-five is old in the slightest .
He cocks his head as his eye twitches. He calmly says, “thirty-seven.”
I spit out my wine, not expecting there to be ten years between us. He doesn’t come off as his age, not even a single grey hair. If I had to legitimately guess, I’d say thirty at most. Good for him. “Mi dispiace.”
He scratches his clean-shaven chin. “You’re ten years younger. Does it look like I care about it?”
“You know my age?” My eyes widen. How? I never told him.
“Amore, I would not have invited you into my home without knowing who you are.”
My eyes narrow in suspicion. “And… how exactly do you know details of who I am, Mr. Marzano ?”
He snorts. “A simple background check sufficed.” He takes another sip of his wine, patting my thigh with the other hand.
Fair. It’s understandable why he’d do a background check on me. Though, how is he capable of doing one? I never gave him my full name at the time, my birthday… or anything .
Mafia and FBI agent points. This is getting wild— too wild.
Serial Killer |
Mafia Man |||
FBI Agent ||
Is a ceo
I need to change the subject. Fast . “I finished. Shall I email it to you?”
“That would require you to have my email, amore.”
Fair point. I ask, “What is it?”
He slides the computer over to himself and types it in. A basic one—the typical first initial, last name, and company name. Not extravagant.
I grunt. “I expected a little more creativity.”
“Why be creative? It’s a business email address.”
“ Giordano? ” I whisper.
“ Antonella? ” he whispers back. There’s a moment of silence while we’re glaring at each other. He breaks it first by asking, “will you go on a date with me?”
“Date,” I repeat, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth. I snort. Only out of pure nervousness, of course, not because I’m going to reject him. I’d be an idiot if I did. “Like a date -date?”
“Sì, amore. I’d like to take you out to dinner. A romantic dinner tonight. Think you can handle it?”
A spark ignites behind my eyes. A flicker of what? I’m not sure. Concupiscence? Intrepidity? He knows exactly what buttons to press. “I can handle it.” A simper spreads across my lips.
“Wonderful, amore. I’ll get you from your room at six. Dress fancy.” He scratches along his jawline. “Do you have a dress?”
I probably don’t have anything to wear for a date he’d take me on. Didn’t help the fact I rarely go out. If I did? Jeans and a black top is the usual go-to. A classic. Basic? Sure. But, I’m never trying to impress anyone.
His gaze softens. “Never mind, I’ll take care of it. You go take a shower and make yourself all dolled up, yeah?”
I tilt my head. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Consider it a pre-celebration of you getting a new job.”
“Fine, you convinced me.” I wink at him and close the laptop. I stand then kiss him on the cheek.
“Didn’t take much convincing.”
“I’ll take you up on the dinner offer. You’re lucky I love food, too.”
He smirks at me and slaps my ass as I walk by him. “Yes, and for dessert, I’ll have you again.”
My eyes widen as I stop at the bottom of the steps. “Surely, you’re joking? ”
“Why would you think that, amore?”
Oh, shit. He’s serious. Alright, I’ll play. “When do I get to have you for a change?” I wink at him once again and walk up the stairs, at a fast pace—I don’t like running.
He lets out a low, husky groan and moves from the table. I half-expect him to chase me. Part of me wants him to.
Much to my disappointment, he doesn’t.
I finish taking a shower and have my hair up in a towel. I skim over all of the make-up products lined up along the bathroom counter. He bought all of this— for me—while I was back at the hospital with my parents. How sweet of him to think of me.
I gawk at the expensive bottles of foundation, concealers, setting sprays and powders, lipsticks, all the above. All the products I’ve dreamed of owning, yet couldn’t afford. He must’ve bought one of everything.
An hour later, a knock on the door pulls me out of my hair-curling zone. I have a hot ass curl cooling in my hand. “Come in!”
“I’d love to. Thanks for your formal invitation, I was planning on it later.” Giordano strolls into my bedroom.
I roll my eyes at him, though they stop mid-roll as they land on his arms, holding a black box with a red velvet ribbon tied into a bow on top.
My shoulders drop as I place the curling iron down on the bathroom counter. “Please tell me you didn’t go out and buy me a dress for tonight.”
“Okay, I wont.” He places the box on the bed.
“I’m serious.” I slowly walk out of the bathroom, over to where he’s standing. I shift my gaze to the big box on the bed, accompanied by what looks like a shoe box, and a small bag .
“I promise you won't be disappointed.” His smile’s incredibly charming. Warms my heart—too fucking warm.
I grip the sides of the box carefully and lift off the top cover of the biggest one. Inside of it, is white tissue paper, which I carefully remove. By the packaging alone, it’s going to be an expensive dress.
My jaw practically hits the floor. I pull out a gorgeous black body-con dress. It’s all velvet and will come right up to my collar bone with a deep-v in the back.
In the medium sized box, I find black heels with a certain color on the bottom. No, he fucking didn’t. They’re not only expensive—but like— designer expensive. I hesitate before opening the final bag. I glance over at Giordano, who grins ear to ear with pride. He’s loving every moment of this. Spoiling me. I reach into the bag and pull out a sealed bottle of vanilla scented perfume. This had to have cost him well over three hundred dollars for it alone.
My voice gets caught in my throat as tears prick my eyes. “I’ve never had a gift… this much .”
“You like the vanilla scents, no?” He smirks, tapping the tip of my nose.
“Sì, but I can’t accept?—”
“You can, and will . I said I’ll take good care of you. Do you think I won’t follow through with my promise? You deserve to be spoiled. Let me spoil you, amore.” He presses his lips against my forehead. “If not for you, then for me. And after dinner, I want to slowly—” His fingers trail lightly along my jawline, down to my exposed collarbone.
I gulp while my stare remains locked on his deep forest green eyes.
“—take it off this gorgeous body of yours and make you squirm.” He finishes his sentence in a whisper.
“ God ,” I rasp.
“God has nothing to do with it, baby. ”
I blink—words stuck on my tongue. How am I supposed to respond?
He pokes my nose, again. His finger’s going to be glittery from the highlight. “We leave in thirty minutes, amore. Finish getting ready. That’s an order.”
“Um—” I choke out.
“Va bene. I’ll answer for you.” He clears his throat and then tries to make a high-pitch, female voice. He attempts to imitate me . “ Yes, Sir. ” He winks at me, then leaves the room without another word.
I give another slow blink—one eye at a time. Frog-eye style. I shrug while erupting into laughter at his voice impression. “What the fuck?” I walk back into the bathroom to finish getting ready for our first date night.
“I heard you, amore.” He yells from the hallway.
My eyes widen as I pick the curling iron back up. I have to test something.
“Vaffanculo,” I whisper. Nothing . A satisfied grin spreads across my lips as I place the curling iron back down on the counter, clicking it off. He didn’t hear me.
I bend down to grab the hairspray from underneath the sink. A swift slap to my ass sends me flying into the counter in front of me.
“Ah!” I catch myself with both hands.
“I thought I said no saying the word anymore? Do you need to be put over my knee again?”
I stand to my full height, shaking my head while trying to suppress a laugh. “No.” A big smile spreads across my face.
Yes .
His eyes are entirely black. Goodness gracious . He grumbles, “Five minutes.”