Chapter Twenty
Riccardo
T he wine spills across the floor, but my focus isn’t on the mess. It’s on Anya.
Her hands grab my shirt, pulling me down onto the couch with her while her knee presses against my groin. A wicked smile plays on her lips, and damn it, instead of getting pissed at her move, I find myself impressed.
She wants to fuck just as much as I do, but she’s not going to let me just do it. No. She’s always fighting me. Always testing how far I’ll let her go. Always trying to assert herself.
It’s fucking tantalizing.
“Careful Mrs. Angelo,” I murmur, leaning into her space. “I don’t mind a little pain in the bedroom, but I won’t be the one who ends up hurting.”
Instead of pushing the point further, I press my dick against her knee and lean down to kiss her. Her hands come up, fingers curling into my hair like she’s deciding whether to pull me closer or shove me away.
She chooses closer.
I deepen the kiss, my hands sliding down to grip her hips, dragging her closer to the edge of the couch. Her legs shift, brushing against mine as her knee relinquishes its position, and a low growl rumbles in my chest. She always makes me lose control faster than I want to admit.
When I pull back slightly, she grins at me. “Still waiting for you to prove you’re in control.”
“Oh, I’ll prove it,” I growl, sliding an arm beneath her knees and lifting her off the couch in one swift motion.
This is a game to her. Fine. I can play. I had a shit day and I’m in the mood to release some of that pent up energy.
“What are you doing?” Her startled gasp is satisfying.
“Moving this to the bedroom,” I reply, ignoring her attempts to sit up further in my arms.
At least, she doesn’t argue, which I take as a win.
I carry her through the hall and into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us. I set her down on the edge of the bed, my hands immediately sliding into her hair, tugging just enough to tilt her head back. Her lips part, her breath coming fast as she meets my gaze.
“You drive me insane, Anya,” I growl, leaning down to nip at her bottom lip.
“And yet, here you are,” she retorts, her voice breathless but still filled with that defiance that sends a thrill straight through me. “So, who’s really in control, Riccardo?”
I grip her chin, forcing her to hold my gaze. “Me,” I say, quieter but no less firm, hoping to fucking hell that I can convince myself of that because never has a woman made me feel so damn distracted as Anya.
Apparently Anya doesn’t have an issue with my declaration, because she arches up, brushing her lips against mine in a kiss that’s as much a demand as it is an invitation. It’s such a turn on, it takes me a second to recall what I was about to do.
Anya
Riccardo pulls me down onto the bed, my body pinned under his, his dark eyes locked on mine with an intensity that sends a shiver straight down my spine. “Stay right here,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding.
He stands and strides toward his dresser. My heart races as he pulls the lowest drawer open. At this point, I’m too curious to risk moving. I want to know what Riccardo is up to.
When he turns around, he’s holding several things. Tools of his trade, so to speak. Only, they aren’t weapons. Instead, he’s holding things meant for an entirely different kind of control. And fuck me, but I get goosebumps.
He selects a pair of nipple clamps first, the kind with dangling jewels that looks fucking expensive. Returning to me, he kneels between my legs, holding them up with a grin.
“You can try to run,” he says, though his tone makes it clear he doesn’t expect me to.
I swallow hard. “I don’t intend to.” The girls in the clubs sometimes wear these, which should turn me off, and yet... I want this.
His lips curve into a dark smile as he fastens the first one.
“Fuck.” It freaking stings, and the asshole doesn’t loosen it one bit before attaching the second one.
I reach up to rub at my boobs, but he takes my hands and pins them to the bed with his own, leaning over me to lick over my sore nipples, making them sting even more.
Fucking hell, what was I thinking?
“Now you look exactly how you should. Like my queen wearing jewels.”
My breath catches, but I don’t argue. What girl doesn’t like some fancy ass jewels on a day when she fucking slayed?
Reaching out, Riccardo reaches into the pile of things he had dropped on the bed, pulling out a silk blindfold.
“I want you to feel this,” he says, as he ties it over my eyes, shutting out the room and leaving me entirely at his mercy.
Every muscle in my body tenses. I wanted a distraction, sure, but this? Hell, this is stupid.
I can’t trust Riccardo. I shouldn’t trust him.
But I want this.
The bed dips as he returns to me once again, and I feel the cool glide of metal against my wrists. I tense again. Too late to run now. He’s secured a pair of cuffs around my wrists. The sound of a snap and a chain following it tells me he’s linked them together, leaving me restrained but not entirely immobile.
“Spread your legs, Anya.”
His voice leaves no room for hesitation, and I obey, feeling his hands guide my thighs apart. Because why the hell not? I’m already tied up. I might as well get to the fucking fun part of this insanity.
The teasing hum of a vibrator fills the room next, the faint buzz making my core clench in anticipation.
“You like playing with fire,” he says, and I can feel his smirk without seeing it. “So let’s see how much heat you can take.”
The first touch of the vibrator against my clit is soft, exploratory. My hips jerk involuntarily as he presses it harder, drawing slow, deliberate circles that make it impossible to think of anything but the building tension in my body.
“Stay still,” he orders, gripping my thigh with one hand to keep me in place.
I try, but the combination of his dominance and the relentless stimulation has me writhing beneath him. The blindfold amplifies every sensation. There is the warmth of his breath against my skin, the firm press of his hand on my thigh, and the relentless buzz he’s rubbing over my clit and dipping into my cunt.
“Riccardo,” I gasp, not even sure what I’m asking for.
“Not yet,” he growls, pulling the vibrator away just as I teeter on the edge of release. So damn fast. He got me there so fucking quick.
A frustrated sound escapes me, but he chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying my torment.
“You think I’m going to make this easy for you?” he asks, his voice low and mocking. “You don’t get to come until I decide you’re ready. Until you beg me for it. Like I begged you to take my fucking men with you.”
I bite back a sharp retort, but I lift my hips, trying to reclaim some control. Instead of letting me have it, he presses me down firmly, pinning me into the mattress.
“You’ll learn, Tesoro ,” he says, his tone softer now. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll understand exactly what it means to spend hours tortured.”
He places the vibrator back against me, this time alternating the intensity, teasing me until I’m a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him. Every nerve ending in my body screams for release, but he holds me on the edge, drawing it out and then pulls it away again just when I’m about to shatter.
“Please,” I whisper, the word slipping out unbidden. The fucking asshole is edging me and all I can do is beg.
I feel his weight shift as he leans down, his lips brushing my ear. “That’s better. Say it again.”
“Please, Riccardo,” I plead, my voice cracking under the strain of holding back. “I need—”
“You need me,” he finishes for me, and the smug satisfaction in his tone only stokes the fire in me.
Finally, he presses the toy to my clit again, the vibrations intensifying as his fingers slip inside me. I try to ride his hand, but he pulls on the chain connecting the nipple clamps and I cry out in pain instead. Only, the pain sends my nerves into a sizzling frenzy, and it’s impossible to tell if it’s bad or good.
The blindfold stays snug over my eyes, forcing me to feel instead of watch. His lips brush over my neck, leaving a trail of heat. I tense as his hands skim my stomach, teasing just above the area of where I want him most.
“Do you know what I see when I look at you like this, Anya? I see a woman who’s strong enough to rule a city but still needs someone to remind her of what surrender feels like.”
I bite my lip, trying not to let his words worm their way deeper. But I can’t stop the way my body betrays me, responding to his touch as he slides one hand down to grip my hip. The vibrator presses against me again, harder this time, and I whimper when the sensations spike.
I don’t like men controlling my life, but hell, I think I like men controlling my body just fine. Or at least this man.
Riccardo.
“You’re close again,” he says knowingly. His fingers brush the chain between the clamps, sending a sharp jolt through my chest that mingles pain with pleasure. “But I’m not done with you yet.”
“Riccardo,” I gasp, because let’s be real, I’m no longer in a state to form full sentences.
“You’ll get what you need, Tesoro ,” he murmurs, withdrawing the vibrator just enough to make me ache for its return. “But first, I want to make sure you understand something.”
The bed shifts beneath us, and I feel his weight pressing me down again. His hands grip my thighs, spreading them wider as his mouth trails lower, the rasp of his stubble sending sparks of sensation across my skin.
“You think you’re in control, Anya.” His tone is soft, almost conversational, but there’s a dangerous edge beneath it. “You think you can walk into meetings, make your plays, and keep me at arm’s length. But when you’re like this? Bound, begging, dripping for me? That’s when you’re truly mine.”
My breath catches, a protest forming on my lips, but it dies as he slides two fingers inside me, curling them just right. His other hand tugs lightly at the chain, and I arch into the dual sensations, a moan escaping me despite myself.
“I’m going to ruin you,” he says, his voice low and full of promise. “Not just tonight, but every time I touch you. Until you forget how to think about anyone else but me.”
The vibrator is back, relentless against my clit as his fingers work me closer and closer to the edge. The blindfold somehow amplifies my awareness of every one of his movements until I’m trembling, teetering on the brink of my orgasm.
“Riccardo, I—”
“Not yet,” he growls, pulling everything away at the last second. My cry of frustration echoes through the room, and I hear him chuckle darkly.
I want to fucking punch him, but I doubt I have enough energy left in me to move so much as a muscle.
His hand slides to my stomach, his fingers splaying wide across my body. “Do you know how good you’d look pregnant?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “I never thought about having kids. My father was an asshole. But I like the idea of branding you as mine. You’d be fucking beautiful carrying my child and I’ll need an heir, eventually. The mess your father left things in is a pretty good reminder of that. I could knock you up and secure the future of everything we’re building together.”
I can’t breathe. The heat pooling in my core turns molten, his words igniting something primal that I can’t ignore.
“You’d hate it,” he continues, his fingers sliding back inside me. “Hate how much control it would give me over you. And yet...” He twists his hand, his thumb brushing over my clit with maddening precision. “I think you’d love it even more.”
I hate him for how much I want it. Hate him for how much his words make me crave something I didn’t even realize was buried inside me.
“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough now, the teasing edge gone. “Say you’re mine, Anya.”
“No,” I whisper, the word trembling on my lips. But the way my body arches into his touch, the way I chase the release he keeps denying me, exposes my lie.
“You hate how much you want me,” he counters, and then the vibrator is back, unrelenting as he drives me to the brink one more time.
The release is shattering when he finally lets me plunge over the edge. The orgasm rips through me in waves so intense I can’t stop the sob that escapes my throat. He doesn’t let up, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until I’m a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him.
As the cuffs are unfastened and the blindfold is removed, Riccardo moves over me and positions his cock at my entrance. I stare him down as he plunges into me, refusing to close my eyes.
“You’re mine, Anya,” he says and, for the first time, I don’t argue. Because for tonight, at least, he’s right.