Chapter Thirty-Four #2
A flicker of something dark and vengeful flashes in his cold, unreadable eyes. He shifts in the chair, turning to face me, strong thighs spread wide. “Hmm. I like you like this.” He dusts his knuckles along my cheekbone. “Bet you’re starving, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“What are you willing to do for a taste?”
“Anything you want.”
“Anything I want?” He studies me for a beat. “And what if it was Gio offering? Or Lo? Would you be on your knees for them, too?”
Hmm. Does my needy king want validation? “No. I kneel only for you.”
“Why me?”
Because you own me. Instead of admitting that out loud, I offer a one-shoulder shrug.
Something flashes in his gaze, too quick to name, before he grips my chin, firm and unyielding, and stares straight into me. “Why aren’t you pissed at me?”
What? I frown. “Should I be?”
In response, he tilts his head and lifts a brow.
Oh, I get it…
This is his empire. Not Lorenzo’s. Not Gio’s. At the end of the day, he has the final say. Nothing happens without his permission. Including my confinement.
We shared a steamy weekend, so he thought I’d be pissed that he allowed me to be locked up, even though he’s my alibi. Is that why it took him so long to come to me? Is that why he came in all cold and closed off? Was he prepared for a fight?
“One of the most attractive things about you, Stefano, is that you’re not a slave to your emotions.
That’s so damn sexy to me,” I tell him. “Sure, I was with you that weekend, but I also made some questionably suspicious moves during an attack on your villa. Your empire’s under fire.
Your men died. There are signs of traitors.
This is not the time for ‘feelings.’ No matter what we shared, confinement is where I belong while answers are being searched for.
It was the right call. So no, I’m not mad. What I am, is starving.”
For a long moment, he just stares down at me, searching my eyes for something only he understands. Then, his shoulders drop, as though they’ve been holding up the weight of a week’s worth of tension.
Did he truly think I’d be mad at him?
He leans down, cups my face, and asks with a quiet, almost reverent earnestness, “Who are you?”
I lean into his touch. “Don’t make me lie to you, Stefano.”
Something shifts in his eyes, seemingly surprised that I’ve given him something that’s also nothing at all. He holds my gaze, and the silence swells thick between us.
“Are you here to harm,” he eventually asks, voice low, “or to help?”
“That’s for you to figure out.”
His jaw tenses, then works back and forth, as he studies me a moment longer…
Until, finally, he nods and sits back. Accepting.
With an almost imperceptible furrow between his brows, he picks up the fork, lifts a piece of bread pudding, and feeds it to me.
A moan flows out of me as the sweet, buttery warmth floods my taste buds.
Heaven. Mercy.
“More,” I beg after swallowing. When he just stares at me, I add, “Please?”
He feeds me another bite.
“We fortified the southeast wall,” he updates me, unnecessarily. “Put up a security station out there.”
“Oh, nice. It only took a hired attack, several dead, and multiple injured to get it done...” I lick my lips. “More, please.”
He obliges. “How did you get that mercenary to break?”
I chew, swallow. “Some people tattoo themselves to look tough or cool. But for some, their ink’s a map to the soul. I used his map to find the X that broke him.”
This time, I don’t have to ask, he feeds me more.
It’s so damn good I do a little shoulder jig, which earns a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“You should get more professionally trained men in your camp,” I tell him. “Psychologically, I mean. Right now, they’re just big, strong men with guns. In a war, that only gets you so far. You need brain power, too.”
“And I bet you have a suggestion,” he replies wryly.
“Pick a dozen of your most loyal guys and send them to get advanced training, tactical and psychological,” I offer. “My dad used to mention a place called Red Cage, a commando training camp out in Colorado. You could check it out.”
He regards me with slightly narrowed eyes, but his suspicion is not unwarranted. Red Cage is owned by his relatives.
“Hey, it’s just a suggestion,” I say, holding up both hands.
“Feel free to ignore it, like you all did with the southeast wall, because you thought you were unassailable.” I pause, then add, softer this time, “Another thing...I know there are a few bad apples in the bunch, but those snakes will reveal themselves. Trust that your men love and respect you as their leader. No matter how bad it looks, trust that. You didn’t buy their loyalty, you earned it.
Don’t doubt them. The loyal ones far outnumber the traitors. ”
As if to shut me up, he shoves another bite of bread pudding into my mouth, and I laugh.
“You weren’t involved,” he says. A statement, not a question.
At this, I lift a brow. “How are you so sure?”
“You’re kneeling here talking about psychological and tactical warfare,” he says.
“You’re disappointed in my men’s inadequate skills.
You had internal access to a lot of our info.
And since you’ve been with us, every method you’ve suggested has been clean and untraceable.
There’s no way you would be part of something that obvious and messy. ”
God, I like him. I really, really like him. “Or maybe I’m just trying to throw you off...”
He shakes his head, rejecting it. “You just told me what you find attractive about me. Now let me tell you why I’m attracted to you.
” He leans down, his gaze sweeping over me.
“It’s not your perfect tits. Not your plump, rosy lips.
Not even your breathtaking eyes...” He taps two fingers to my temple.
“It’s your mind. Your mind is the sexiest fucking thing about you, sweet liar.
I may not know who you are, but I know who you are. ”
There goes my heart again.
Our eyes stay locked, and the longer I look into those soul-stripping depths, the hotter I burn. Need uncoils low in my belly. Blood humming. Nipples tight.
Still, all I manage is, “More.”
He holds my gaze for another pounding beat before leaning back and feeding me another forkful.
This time, he doesn’t make me beg for more. He feeds me on my knees until the dish is empty.
After I’ve swallowed the last bite, he picks up the shot of vodka and raises a brow in question. When I nod, he brings it to my lips, and I knock it back.
As he sets the glass down and covers the empty plate, I beg, “More.”
He chuckles. “It’s all gone.”
My gaze dips pointedly to the bulge between his spread thighs. “More, please.”
A smile teases one corner of his mouth. “What will I get in return?”
“The powerful master asks the helpless prisoner.”
He laughs this time, low and warm. “There’s nothing helpless about you, little liar.”
My response is a one-shoulder shrug.
“How about your real name?” he suggests.
I loosen the ties of my robe and let it fall open, breasts partially exposed. “Make it good, and I might tell you.”
His nostrils flare. Eyes flash. “I poisoned the bread pudding.”
A laugh flies out of me. “Sure. That’s why you ate some first…to let me know it wasn’t.”
With burning eyes, he stares at me like he hates me. He so doesn’t. “Take it off.”
No hesitation, I slide the robe off my shoulders until it pools around me, leaving me bare before him.
His gaze drags over me like a slow caress. “You been touching yourself?”
I shake my head. “I was waiting for you.”
“So sure I’d come, huh?”
“At least to gloat.” I slide my knees apart. “I figured you’d be creaming your pants now that Lorenzo’s finally turned on me.”
“You haven’t been paying close enough attention if you think I want to be right about you.” He shifts in his chair, pushes the tray to the far end of the table, then taps two fingers against the newly cleared space. A command.
Desire flares low in my belly as I climb to my feet and move into the gap between him and the table, then hoist myself up and spread my legs for him.
Lower lip pinned between his teeth, gaze like black smoke, he drinks me in, lingering on my wet pussy. When he lifts his hands to caress my inner thighs, an involuntary shiver runs through me.
Will my body ever not embarrass me? It’s more starved for his touch than it was for food.
“Why do you let me touch you?” he asks, squeezing my thighs.
“Why do you touch me?” I counter.
“Because every inch of you feels like mine,” he replies without hesitation. “I can’t help myself.” He glides his hands up to the apex of my thighs, and brushes his knuckles over my slick folds, eliciting another tremor from me.
“D-D-Ditto,” I stammer.
“You’re always so wet for me...”
He pets my pussy, teasing, flicking, massaging my clit, pinching and playing with it. Driving me out of my goddamn mind as I whine and undulate.
“I want you inside me, Stefano. P-please.”
“Patience.” He scissors my clit between two fingers, dragging me to the edge. “She’s such a pretty toy…”
Again and again, he brings me to the brink, then pulls back. Of course. He likes to torture me.
“Ohhgod, I can’t...I can’t…”
He presses his thumb to my opening, then slowly eases it in.
“Your cock,” I beg. “I want your cock inside me, Stefano. Let me feel you.”
“I had a dream, you know,” he murmurs, one hand petting my clit while the other fucks me with his thumb. “A dream that ends with you being my ruin.”
“Then why haven’t you—holy shit, that feels so good...ohhh, yeah, don’t stop…” Legs trembling, I rock into his hand. “Why haven’t y-you killed me yet?”
He withdraws his thumb, sliding it lower to my pleated hole. Applies pressure, but doesn’t enter. All while working my clit.
“Because I’ve lost my fucking head, clearly,” he admits. “Or maybe I’m just curious to see how you do it. How you take me down.”
“You…ohhmhhmm… You might w-want to consider that your dreams aren’t as accurate as you think—Mhmm.”
With a low grunt, he plunges two fingers inside me. “My dreams never lie.”
On the heel of that promise, he starts finger-fucking me with purpose, pumping in and out of my slippery pussy while pinching and tormenting my clit over and over, relentless.
I’m trembling, squirming, hips rocking, the table rattling beneath me…and then…I’m gone. A cry swells in my throat, but I bite my lip, squelching the sounds that want to rip out of me as the orgasm hits. Splits me open. Overwhelms me and dunks me under. Drowns me.
Lost in the clouds of nirvana, I’m only vaguely aware of a buzzing sound, followed by Stefano’s voice…
“Yeah?... Ah, okay… Be there in a few.”
No, no, no. The orgasmic high shatters. I tumble down from the clouds and blink him into focus.
His eyes are already on mine. “I have to go.”
“Not yet, please.” I spread my legs wider. “I need you…now. Please.”
Eyes sharp and penetrative, he studies me for several beats. Then pulls out his pocket square and wipes his fingers. “What’s the rush? Is this your last chance or something?”
Or something... “I had a taste of the Castello drug and now I’m hooked. I just need a fix.”
There’s open distrust in his eyes now as he watches me for a beat longer. Calm and quiet, he gets up and walks away, disappearing into the bathroom.
At the sound of running water, I accept that I won’t be getting more of him tonight, then get down from the table, pick up my robe, and shrug it back on.
When he returns a few moments later, I say, “Prinsesst?rta.”
He adjusts his cufflinks. “What?”
“My favorite treat back home is Prinsesst?rta. And I’ve been craving it.” I sweep my hair back. “Bring me a slice the next time you come see me, yes?”
“Uh…yeah. Sure.” He smooths out his sleeves, distracted. “That’s a pastry or something?”
“One more thing...” I walk up to him, wrap my arms around his neck, and tilt my face up. “Kiss me.”
There’s a momentary pause, a dip between his brows, but then his hands are on me, cradling my neck, thumbs brushing along my jaw. A spark in his eyes, a restrained eagerness, like he’s been waiting for this.
As his lips descend, my eyes flutter closed and a soft, sad sigh escapes me. His breath warms my quivering lips, and I wait...for the touch of his lips against mine. But it never comes.
Bewildered, I open my eyes and find him watching me, a sincere earnestness in his depths. An honest look I’ve never seen from him before. “Stay, Raya.” He brushes the pad of his thumb along my cheek. “Stay.”
Why must he be so damn perceptive?
“Am I not confined here?” I slide on a half-hearted smile. “What do you think I’m going to do, jump out the window to my death?”
He shakes his head, and he seems so defeated in this moment. “I’m under no illusion that these walls or those men out there are keeping you here. I see you, little liar. No matter what mask you wear, what accent you use, what emotion you fake...I see you.”
With that, he removes my hands from around his neck, steps back from me, then turns and starts for the door. His hand is almost on the handle when I call his name.
He stops, but only turns his head slightly in acknowledgment.
“Most women want the man who would burn the world down to save them,” I say. “But I’m not one of them. No matter what happens, remember what I told you about what makes you attractive to me. Keep being that man. Always. Because I see you, too, Stefano.”
Silence stretches and expands between us. So much being said without words.
Voice gruff, low and surrendering, he says, “If there’s anyone who could make me do the opposite of everything I swore I’d never do…
it’s you, Delilah.” He looks over his shoulder at me.
“For the love of everything holy...don’t make me become the man who burns the world down to save a damn girl.
Because I’m so fucking gone for you, pretty liar, I don’t trust myself not to risk it all to keep you.
” A bitter, humorless laugh snaps out of him.
“And I don’t even know your fucking name. ”
With that, he opens the door and walks out.