Chapter 8
Romeo Yovanni
Sienna passes out too easily. She goes limp and slumps toward the floor so quickly I almost don’t catch her in time.
I lift her into my arms, carry her into the bathroom, and lock the door. Expecting her to rouse within seconds, I confirm the three stalls are empty, toss the flowers on the counter, sit on the fancy bench in the primping area, and slap handcuffs on her wrists.
She spasms but doesn’t wake. I pinch and lift her chin.
Her eyes pop open, and she pulls in a shaky breath.
She looks around in confusion, but I shift my grip and cover the entire bottom half of her face with one hand.
Panic widens her lashes, and she smears blood on my sleeve as she claws at my arm. I shush her and hold her tighter.
“Hush, bambolina. I’m not going to hurt you. Yet.”
The potent mix of fear and fury emanating from her is mesmerizing. I want more. Her nostrils flare and breaths blow over the back of my hand as she bucks and writhes.
I smirk and nuzzle her temple.
“That’s right, Sienna. Fight harder.”
She shoves at my wrist and elbows my chest, and although the strikes are impressive for her size and position, they’re no match for my strength.
“Such a violent little doll, aren’t you? Relax, bambolina. I’ve got you. No one can save you now.”
She gives the cutest little growl and tries to dislodge my grip by bracing her heels on the padded bench and thrusting and twisting her hips.
I lick the shell of her ear before pouring my mockery into my whisper, “I have duct tape and another set of handcuffs in my pockets if you’d like me to use them, but I didn’t think you were that kinky.”
She freezes. Her ragged breathing jostles her on my lap. I nip her ear in retribution for grinding against my hard cock.
“Good girl. Are you ready to listen?”
She relays her defiance and hatred in a single pause but then nods as much as my grip will allow. I continue murmuring in her ear, the adrenaline and excitement roaring through my veins threatening to take over if I so much as see her response to my next demand.
“Here’s what you’re going to do; you’re going to take off your panties, smear some blood on the fabric, and toss them on the floor.”
I bite the inside of my lip and use the sting to center my focus before lifting my head and studying her expressive eyes. The view of my thick fingers and powerful hand wrapped around her dainty face sends fissures of dark delight down to the base of my spine. My balls throb and cock jerks.
Despite her terror, she glares pure hatred at me.
“Can you do it yourself, or do you need my help?” I rumble through a throat thick with desire.
She closes her eyes and takes a shaky breath through her nose before shaking her head.
“Sorry, bambolina, that was confusing. I’m going to take my hand off your face.”
Hope sparkles in her caramel gaze. I squash it the best way I know how.
“If you scream, I have something right here—” I grind my hard dick against her ass “—to shut you up. Capisci?”
Her reluctant nod doesn’t inspire much confidence, but most of the wedding guests left the venue already, so a scream or two most likely won’t alert anyone.
I shift my hand down to her throat. She swallows. I bite back a groan as the slender column shifts against my palm.
“Do you need my help, Sienna?” I ask.
“No,” she snaps.
I rub my thumb up and down the side of her throat and along her jawline.
“Then do it,” I growl.
“Here?”
The challenge in her voice solidifies my decision.
“Yes. Here. Just like this. Right now.”
A shiver wracks her entire body. I bite back a groan.
She hesitates for a heartbeat or two. The chains on her handcuffs clink as she reaches down and begins gathering her skirt onto her thighs.
I smile and capture my bottom lip between my teeth, needing the pain in order to remain in control as she exposes her legs.
Her dainty feet in the strappy high heels I bought her make me want to tie her down and torture her with my teeth and tongue as she begs me to leave her sensitive flesh alone.
Never. I’m never letting her go.
With her wrists tethered together her movements are awkward, but she reaches under her skirt and pulls her panties off, first one hip then the other.
Her shifting and wriggling creates dangerous friction on my cock.
I relish every moment and bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood.
Despite her best efforts, I still catch a few glimpses of her intimate flesh.
It would be so easy to sink a finger into her wet heat. The dampness of her panties and the hardness of her nipples broadcasts her arousal.
We only met yesterday, but after being in close proximity and working my way under her defenses, I already have more access to and control over her body than she’ll ever admit.
When I refuse to release her throat or unlock her cuffs despite her difficulty getting her panties off her ankles, she huffs and curls into a ball to pull the slip of fabric over her feet.
Fucking hell, the move exposes her entire bottom half. I tighten my grip on her throat to prevent myself from grabbing her ass and sinking my thumb deep into her folds.
She drops her feet to the bench and shoves her skirt down her legs, but my mind snapshots a picture of her perfect pussy to the forefront of my thoughts. Her handcuffs rattle as she balls her panties in her fists and squeezes.
After flexing a few times to pump more blood from her cut, she pinches a bit of the fabric between her fingers and holds it up for my inspection.
“Enough?” she sneers.
I tease my thumb over her bottom lip.
“No. More.”
My body moves without my permission. I take her mouth with demanding strokes of my tongue, my need to take and claim so strong it borders on violence.
Her whimper only incites me further. For a few glorious moments, she submits to my domination, even seems mesmerized by the invasion, but then she clamps down on my tongue.
I squeeze her throat in warning. She pulls my suit tight across my shoulders with her hands fisting the front of my coat.
I take the arm braced around her back off my thigh and tease the bottom swell of her breast and her concave stomach with my fingertips. Her pussy is so close. Right there. Even without my sight, I could plunder her depths.
She releases my tongue and rips her face to the side. Her jagged breathing, flushed cheeks, and kiss-swollen lips tip me dangerously close to losing control.
“I’m sorry. Stop touching me. Please,” she gasps and writhes.
“Be still, bambolina, or I’ll fuck you right here. Capisci?”
She nods, clamps her knees together, and curls in on herself as she holds a fistful of my suit coat. Besides her trembling, she does a great impression of a statue.
I drop my head back and close my eyes for a few moments as I gather the remaining shreds of my control.
“Toss the panties,” I growl toward the ceiling.
The soft slap of fabric on tile echoes through the air.
“Unbutton my coat,” I demand.
Stiff, shaking fingers release my lapels and slip my buttons free.
“Take off my belt.”
Her audible swallow fills my ears. She lowers her hands and shifts her weight just enough to reach my buckle. I grit my teeth and flex my fingers behind her jugular. She unbuckles my belt and pulls it free of my beltloops.
“Do you know how to loop that into handcuffs?” I ask.
She shakes her head. I snarl, release her throat, and thread my arm under her knees as I stand. I stalk across the room to the sinks but avoid looking at the mirror. Seeing her trapped in my arms would tip me over the edge.
“Hang it over the towel bar. Loop the end through the buckle and make it look like we left in a rush,” I command.
Her shoulder and hip dig into my chest as she twists to comply. She’s petite enough I can grab her waist with the hand under her legs and curl my other fingers over her breast, but I dig them into her ribs instead.
I set her on the counter, yank her knees apart, wedge my hips between them, and bury my fist in her hair.
“Take off my coat.”
Her breasts brush against me as she uses her bound hands to push my coat off my shoulder.
I shrug out of it and swap hands in her hair.
Metallic clinking sounds as she pulls my coat off my other arm.
With her fists full and arms straining under the weight of the fabric, I wrap my long fingers around her hip and pull her tighter against my front.
Even though her dress bunches in her lap and blocks my view, the heat of her bare pussy seeps into my hard cock.
I drop my face to the crook of her neck and close my teeth over the sensitive flesh.
She yelps and jerks as I bite her.
I lift my head and murmur against her swollen skin.
“Sorry, bambolina, I forgot to tell you the instructions. Pull a button or two off my coat. I’ll help.”
“Wait, no, I—”
I bite her again, a bit softer this time, but still enough to sting.
She sobs and frantically feels for the buttons.
I’m not playing fair, but it makes the game even more fun.
With her head forced in the other direction by my face and her wrists cuffed, she struggles to find the buttons amid the yards of fabric required to cover my massive torso.
I brush my lips over her shoulder, giving her a few extra seconds before I bite her again, and marvel at the bruise on her nape from when I shoved her down in San Francisco. She’ll have a few pretty marks from my teeth to match.
I open my mouth and fill it with her flesh. She writhes, pushing her pussy harder against my trapped cock, and if it weren’t for the fabric of my pants blocking her sweet slickness, I’d spunk all over us both.
I clamp my teeth together. Sienna grunts. A button clatters to the floor.
“It’s done. Please don’t—”
“One more,” I demand.
Her half-sob, half-hiss of frustration arrows straight to my balls. I lick her throat.
She yanks another button free and drops it to roll around with the other.
“No more. Please, my head, I can’t—”
I suck the raised skin of her shoulder into my mouth. She squeaks. Unable to resist, I move a little higher on her neck and bite.
She grunts and droops.
No, not droops. Her entire body goes lax.
I lift my head. She’s not faking it. She fainted. I skim my hand up her body from her hip and rest the back of my fingers against her lips. When warm air ghosts over my knuckles I swallow in relief, but the slow, shallow breaths concern me.
Rage at being denied the pleasure of her horror and pain rips through me, and for a terrible moment I consider unzipping my pants and thrusting into her unguarded body, but the idea coats my insides with greasy mush, so I sigh and funnel my anger away for later.
Although her cheeks are flushed, her skin holds an unhealthy pallor and is clammy with sweat.
I press the side of her face against my chest, whack the bloody bouquets against the edge of the counter, and toss the stems halfway across the room.
Flowers drift down and cover most of the floor.
I knock the feminine hygiene products off the counter, scoop Sienna into a cradle hold, and muddle the scene with a few sweeps of my foot to make it look like two bodies tussled on the ground and ended underneath the towel rack.
With my dangling belt, torn custom suit coat, scattered special-order buttons, her ruined panties, and the bloody bouquets strewn about, there’s no doubt what happened to Mario Luciano’s precious niece and who did it to her.
I smirk in glee.
After such an epic scene, fresh eagerness pulses in my veins.
Sienna Luciano is truly the most perfect vessel for my revenge. I may have to build her endurance so she doesn’t die, but I intend to keep her for as long as she survives.
My poor little doll isn’t accustomed to playing rough. It’s okay. I’ll teach her.
And I’ll enjoy every fucking second.
She’s mine now. All mine.