Chapter 16 Alessandro #2
The thought of Matteo seeing this footage makes me wince.
It would destroy him to watch his beloved daughter become everything he’d spent her entire life trying to prevent.
But I can’t bring myself to care about his pain, not when I’m too busy being fascinated by what she’s becoming.
My intercom buzzes. “Mr. Ricci? Miss DeLuca is here to see you.”
I jump, my knee slamming into the bottom of my desk. Cursing, I press down on the button. “Send her up,” I order, clearing my throat so my voice doesn’t sound so husky.
I close the video and try to compose myself, but my heart is still racing with equal parts arousal and anticipation.
The door opens, and Bianca steps inside wearing a fitted white shirt and black dress pants.
The color makes her pale skin luminous and brings out the gray in her blue eyes.
Her dark hair falls in loose waves over one shoulder, and there’s something different in the way she moves.
It’s more confident, predatory almost.
But it’s the look in her eyes that stops me.
There’s a satisfaction there, a dark pleasure that wasn’t there before.
Like she’s discovered something about herself that she likes.
I stand immediately, my chair rolling back as I move around the desk. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
Before she can answer, before she can say a word, I’m crossing the distance between us in three quick strides.
My hands frame her face and I’m kissing her against the door in desperate hunger.
She gasps into my mouth, her hands immediately fisting in my shirt to pull me closer.
The kiss is electric and desperate.
When her tongue meets mine, I groan against her lips, pressing her back against the solid wood.
“Alessandro,” she breathes when we break apart, both of us breathing hard.
“I watched the video,” I admit roughly, my forehead resting against hers. “Goddamn, Bianca. What you did in there…”
Her pupils dilate, and that satisfied smile curves her lips again. “Did you like what you saw?”
The question sends heat straight to my dick, and I have to grip the doorframe beside her head to maintain some semblance of control.
“I’ve never seen anything more arousing in my life,” I tell her honestly before I kiss her hard again.
Her lips part instantly and she doesn’t resist me at all.
She just gives in and it’s glorious to feel her all warm and pliable and alive.
I tug her up and sideways so she’s on her toes and straddling one of my hips.
I can feel her heat through our two sets of pants and it’s driving me fucking crazy.
Bianca huffs out a laugh. “Don’t you want to hear from me how it went?”
I start undoing the buttons on Bianca’s shirt. “Yes. Hearing it from your lips will get me even fucking harder.”
Bianca’s cheeks warm before her breath hitches as I press an open-mouthed kiss to her sternum.
I reach around to undo one more button and there is a merciful god in heaven because her bra clasps in the front and I unhook it.
Without preamble, I stroke my fingers over her nipples and Bianca’s breath does more than hitch now.
“You’re—you’re making it hard for me to think right now,” Bianca says breathlessly, her fingers carding through my hair.
“Good,” I murmur, one hand on her breast while the other starts to undo her pants.
I pop open the button before I finish popping off the last of her shirt buttons with a series of sharp yanks.
It’s a power move, wrecking her clothes, and I know it and she knows it but whatever.
I’m just so fucking glad she’s okay and that she passed.
Bianca giggles as she helps me out of my shirt. “But I really want to tell you how it went. I don’t think the video does it justice.”
“You can tell me later,” I mutter against her mouth, nipping her a little bit. I let my shirt fall to the ground and buck into her. “Much, much later.”
Bianca grips my neck as I drag my knuckles down her stomach to her waist, feeling the soft skin rasp against my calluses.
I start to undo her belt. “I mean it when I say that seeing you step into who you are supposed to be is such a fucking turn on.”
She laughs, pushing her hair out of her face. “Has anyone told you that you have issues?” she teases me.
“Yes,” I say honestly. “You’ll want to not do that to your hair.”
“Why—?”
I lock my eyes on hers as I sink to my knees, dragging her pants and underwear—black lace, god it’s the gift that keeps on giving—down with me. “Because you need to hold on.”
“Hold on to—”
I shoulder her thighs apart.
There should be foreplay.
I should tease her, leave a couple bite marks on the soft skin inside her knees, and take her back to my place to finish the job.
But I’m good with my mouth and I’ve never been good at waiting, so I brace my forearms against her thighs and lean in, pressing my mouth against her pussy.
I nearly groan at the first taste of her. She tastes so good.
Above me, I hear Bianca exhale and when I glance up, her lips are parted and she bucks her hips. “Oh shit, Alessandro,” she gasps, eyes fluttering shut. I shift one arm up across her hipbone to hold her upright and lavish her clit with my mouth.
Bianca moans as I figure out her sweet spots and memorize the way she tastes.
I move the hand that’s not holding her up and gently, carefully, work two fingers inside of her.
Above me, she swears, tightly, and there’s a thud that must be the back of her head landing against the door.
She’s warm and slippery and it makes me dizzy.
I keep up my rhythm, adding a third finger and smirking when I hear her cry out.
“You should have seen Dominic’s face,” Bianca pants, “when I was successful.”
I pull away to look at her. “I never want to hear Dominic’s name cross your lips when I’m three fingers deep in you,” I snarl, feeling a surge of possession run through me.
She looks down at me. “I’m just trying to tell you how much it pissed him off that I succeeded.”
“And I’m telling you I don’t want to hear it when I’m eating you out. I can stop.” I make a show of removing my fingers from her wet heat.
Bianca mewls and presses her hips closer to my face. “No! Whatever you do, don’t stop.”
I laugh and lean back in, sliding my tongue across her.
Inserting my fingers again, I crook them and she jerks and bites her lip.
With her leg hooked over my shoulder, the angle’s good and I can get my hand in on the action even better.
I meant it when I said I never want to hear Dominic Calabrese’s name cross her lips when we’re together.
I can feel myself getting angry and I know—I know it’s not healthy or sane or safe to bring anger into sex, but this is Bianca all slick and hot and salty-sweet in my mouth, and I’ve never been anything besides dangerous when she’s involved.
And I just want to wreck her. Not knowing where she was today scared the shit out of me. I felt powerless.
Bianca brings a hand up to bite down on her thumb, her hips arching up. “Fuck, Alessandro!”
I look up at her face and—oh yeah. I sit up off my heels, get my other hand around the nape of her neck and pull her so that her face is inches from mine. “You’re gonna come for me, huh?” I whisper against her mouth.
I go deep, fast, and rough with it and she grits her teeth.
Bianca’s grip on me is iron but the muscles in her legs are shaking.
“Come on, Bianca,” I coax, “do it—”
She’s so close. I can feel it in the way she’s breathing fast and getting tight and her sweet smell of hers has gotten a little musky and it’s so nice and she’s going to come for me, right—right now—
She presses her face into the side of my neck and comes, hard.
Goddamn, this is up there with the most amazing moments of my life: Bianca coming on my hand, dewed with sweat and whimpering against my throat as I work her over.
I can feel each wave as it hits, leaving her trembling.
When she finally breaks, she makes a noise that sounds a little like my name and a little like a sob, and I feel like a goddamn king.
I rub circles into the back of her neck as she comes down, her quick breaths hot on my skin.
Eventually, she makes a sound of discomfort and nudges my forearm and I know to slide my fingers out of her, change my grip, and tug her down onto my thighs.
My knees creak with relief as I take my weight off them to sit back on the floor.
She straddles my hips and keeps her face buried in my shoulder.
She tucks her arms in against my chest and I breathe, ignoring my aching cock as I run a hand gently up and down her spine.
The aftermath settles around us, and suddenly I’m thinking about how fucking helpless I felt today.
Sitting in my office, knowing she was facing something dangerous alone, unable to do anything but mobilize men who couldn’t help anyway.
“When Dominic called,” I say quietly, my voice still rough, “when he told me you were already in there without me…I’ve never felt so powerless in my life.”
She shifts slightly against me, listening.
“I kept thinking about all the ways it could go wrong. What if they pushed you too far? What if you broke down?” I swallow, finding the words hard to get out of my mouth. “What—what if something happened and I wasn’t there to—” I stop, realizing how that sounds.
“To what? Save me?” There’s something sharp in her voice.
“No. God no. That’s not…” I run my free hand through my hair, frustrated with my own inability to articulate this. “I watched the video, Bianca. You didn’t need saving. I know I’ve said this before but you were fucking magnificent.”
The truth of it hits me as I say it. “I was terrified something would happen to you, and I realized it wasn’t just because we’re partners or because I’m supposed to protect you. It was because the thought of losing you—really losing you—would destroy me.”
Her breathing changes against my neck.
“I’ve been falling in love with you for months,” I admit, the words finally finding their way out. “But today, sitting there completely helpless while you faced that trial alone…that’s when I knew I was already too far gone to pretend otherwise.”
She pulls back to look at me, those steel-blue eyes searching my face.
“You love me,” she says, like she’s testing the words.
“I love you,” I confirm, my hand still moving in gentle circles on her back. “I love watching you kick ass. I love that you’re not fighting your nature anymore. And I love that you don’t need me to save you—you just need me to stand beside you while you save yourself.”
She searches my face for any hint of deception or manipulation. “Even the dark parts?”
“Especially the dark parts.” The honesty in my voice surprises even me. “Seeing you work today, seeing you discover what you’re capable of—it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed.”
Something flickers across her expression—surprise, maybe relief, definitely something that looks like hunger.
“You’re not trying to save me from myself,” she observes.
I scoff. “No. I’m not.” I cup her face with my free hand, thumb brushing across her cheekbone. “You don’t need saving. You need someone who can match what you’re becoming.”
Her eyes widen, and I realize I’ve just admitted something that should probably terrify me.
I’m not just accepting her transformation—I’m encouraging it.
Enabling it.
Finding it intoxicating in ways that probably make me complicit in whatever she becomes.
My conscience wars with my heart as the full implications settle in.
A better man would be concerned about her humanity and would try to preserve whatever innocence might be left after today’s trial.
A better man would worry about the psychological cost of embracing violence and manipulation as natural expressions of her personality.
But I’m not a better man.
I’m someone who watched her break another human being and felt nothing but arousal and admiration.
“Are you worried about what I’m becoming?” she asks quietly.
I consider lying, offering reassurance about her essential goodness or the possibility of finding balance. Instead, I give her the truth, which is what she’s always wanted.
“I’m worried I don’t care enough about what you’re becoming.
I should be concerned about you losing your humanity.
I should want to protect the gentle parts of you that Matteo spent your entire life cultivating.
” I meet her gaze directly. “But all I can think about is how magnificent you looked when you stopped fighting yourself and started using everything you are.”
Her smile is absolutely devastating, and it makes me hard all over again. “You’re not going to try to save me,” she breathes.
I stroke her cheek with my knuckles. “I’m going to help you become what you choose to be. Even if what you choose scares the rest of the world.”
She leans down and kisses me again, softer this time but no less intense.
When she pulls back, there’s something settled in her expression that wasn’t there before.
“I love you,” she says simply. “And I choose this. I choose to become whatever I need to be to survive in this world.”
“Even if it makes you dangerous?”
Her smile turns devious. “Especially if it makes me dangerous.”
The certainty in her voice should worry me. Instead, it sends heat spiraling through me all over again.
Because I realize that I don’t want to save her from her darkness—I want to watch her wield it like the weapon it was always meant to be.
Whatever she’s becoming, whatever we’re becoming together, it’s going to change everything.
And I can’t wait to see what happens next.