Chapter 15 #3
“Seriously? You’re giving me whiplash,” she hisses.
“We’re both half undressed and clearly fully turned on.
What’s the problem? Just hate-fuck me already if that would make you feel better.
” Her eyes shine with the heat of indignation and arousal.
And as much as my animal instincts want to take over, push her skirt up, and slide her soaked panties to the side so I can take her bare on this desk here and now, I let the fantasy go as quick as it wrote itself and stick to the plan.
“What’s the problem? Ahhh. I’m so glad you asked,” I say bringing my face so close to hers our lips almost touch.
“You’re the problem. I like control. I need to be in control.
When I prosecute. When I fuck. In my home and in my office.
And you have blown in like a cyclone intent on fucking with that control,” I explain, keeping my voice low and measured.
“So here’s the thing, I can cut the ropes of my control and fuck you so hard, in every way and in every hole so that the shape of my cock is imprinted in your tiny body forever, or I can—”
“Do it.” She cuts me off, nipping at my bottom lip and catching it between her teeth, biting down hard. Doing her best to make me sever the cord of my control.
The sting of her bite makes me hiss, and I instinctively cuff her throat. She swallows but doesn’t cower. Instead, she slowly drags her teeth over my lip and releases, whispering against my mouth, “What. Are. You. Waiting. For?”
She runs her hand over my chest and down my torso, and I don’t stop her because after I deliver my final blow, any form of physical contact will be null and void.
“Here’s the dilemma,” I drawl as I drag my thumb over her lip to create the buffer I need between where we’re almost joined. “I can fuck you senseless or I can offer legal representation and advice—but you can’t have both.”
Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, and a small squeak escapes her throat like she wants to argue with me, but I squeeze her throat in warning. She heeds, remaining silent. I pull back and loom over her, wanting her to understand the implication of my ultimatum.
“So you choose what’s more important to you. A one-time filthy fuck you won’t ever forget. Or sound legal advice and the right guidance so you not only take your dream job but also a chance to secure your independence as a permanent citizen in the United States.”
Her face falls, and her eyes gloss over, confirming what I already know—Chiara’s independence hinges on taking this job so she can create a life here. There is only one real choice.
“Just as I thought. Now get dressed so we can formalize our working relationship,” I demand, reaching down to retrieve her button-down sweater from the floor and dropping it in her lap before stepping away and buttoning up my shirt as I round the desk to my chair.
“And don’t even think about trying to play these goddamn games with me.
I’m your lawyer and you are my client. Against my better judgement, I’m going to help you navigate your sponsorship to ensure it can lead to a permanent Green Card if that’s what you want.
If I need to see you, I’ll let you know.
Don’t just show up unannounced or try to speak to me about it any other way.
Outside of scheduled appointments, I think it’s better if we keep our distance—especially while you’re a paying client. ”
She bites her lip hard, hard enough to leave the indents of her teeth there.
Even after I’ve given her the third degree, a fleeting thought about how I’d like to spank the sass out of her until her ass feels like it’s on fire flits through my mind.
But her determined voice brings me back to the present.
“Tell me where to sign, and you better be worth every penny I’m going to pay you.”
“If you follow the rules, we shouldn’t have any issues,” I remind her. She lifts her big green eyes up to me, and they shine with understanding at the double meaning.
“Sign everywhere it’s tabbed.” She does so in silence, and I watch as she completes the paperwork, tracking the flick of her delicate wrist as she signs her neat signature with flourishes on the C and G.
“You’re free to go,” I instruct, not looking up from double-checking the pages she’s just signed.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Princi,” she says before she turns and struts out the door.
I watch as she exits, small waist flaring out to her hips, swaying with each step.
The sight of her peaked nipples beneath the red lace bra is burned behind my eyes, and the heat of her core is branded on my fingertips.
I’m thankful I’m sitting because, at the memory, my dick springs to life and my trousers tighten.
I had intended for my actions to unravel her, but I can’t help but wonder if letting myself get that close to her was a bad idea.
She’s made it very clear she wants me, but she’s the last thing I should want for so many reasons.
Once she’s gone, I fire off the message sitting in drafts.
Now.
Unknown:
We’re live.
I despise being the center of attention, yet I hatched this plan with the hope it will buy her some time. But she can never know it was my idea or why I did it.
And that is how Mafia Princess Chiara Gigioliotti became my client to serve and protect. I’d say that’s called eating your words, but I’d never admit it. Not even under oath.