Chapter 34 Vin
Vin
After I fuck her, my cock buried deep while she drifts in that hazy space between sleep and waking, I stay inside her, staring into the darkening room. My heart’s still pounding. My wrists throb where the zip ties tore through skin. But none of that matters.
All I can think about is the sight of her when I came through the front door: still on the table exactly where I left her, hours later. Her body trembling, tears streaming down her face, whispering ‘I’m sorry’ like she’d failed me.
Fucking she failed me?
I lean away from her, studying her back in the darkness: the curve of her spine, the soft rise and fall of her breathing finally evening out.
She’s curled in a ball, and my hand moves before I think about it, massaging her calf, working up to her thigh.
Her muscles are still tight, knotted. I knead gently, trying to undo the damage, the damage I caused.
She could’ve gotten down at any time. She could’ve moved, stretched, but she didn’t. Just because I told her to stay?
Jesus Christ. Who is this woman?
I’ve had submissive women before, women who liked it rough, who begged for pain, who got off on being used. But never to the degree that she does, and this? This is different. She didn’t stay on that table because it turned her on. She stayed because she thought that’s what I wanted.
My jaw clenches. I know now I shouldn’t have left her like that. She won’t disobey on purpose unless I explicitly tell her she can, that’s who she is. I’ll do better next time.
Next time?
My hand stills on her hip. There shouldn’t be a next time. I should be planning my exit, not planning how to give her better instructions so she doesn’t hurt herself trying to please me.
“Sophie.” My voice comes out gruff. “Look at me.”
She doesn’t move. Just lies there, curled away from me, small and silent.
I shift closer, sliding my arm around her waist, trying to pull her back against my chest. She’s stiff, resistant in a way that’s so unlike her that alarm bells ring in my head.
“What’s going on?” I ask, softer this time.
She releases a shuddering breath, then speaks so quietly I almost don’t hear it: “I’m sorry I couldn’t do it.”
“Do what?”
“What you asked.” Her voice falters. “I tried, Vincenzo. I tried so hard. But my body—I couldn’t do it. I failed you.”
“Sophie—”
“You didn’t fuck me the way you promised.” There are thick tears in her voice. “You said you’d spank me and fuck me, but I ruined it because I couldn’t hold the position long enough.”
I just stare at her back, struggling to process what I’m hearing.
She’s upset, actually upset. Not because I degraded her, not because I drew on her with a marker like she was my property, not because I left her exposed and vulnerable for hours. She’s genuinely distressed because I didn’t brutalize her in the degrading way I promised .
What. The. Fuck.
My cock hardens despite my confusion and guilt, and I suddenly see her differently.
She’s always been sweet, vulnerable in a way that has nothing to do with sex, a woman who finds value in serving people.
But in this moment, I realize how fucking strong those traits are when they’re concentrated on one person.
On me. And I’ve been using that against her.
The guilt sharpens, but so does the need to fuck her. Because knowing who she is, what she needs, what she’ll endure to make me happy—fuck, it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
I clear my throat. “Would you like the chance to make it right?”
She goes still then slowly, she turns to face me, hope flaring in her dark eyes. “Really?”
I nod, keeping my expression neutral even as my heart does this weird stuttering thing. “I want you to get the cannoli filling you made the other day.”
Her expression immediately shifts into a scowl, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Don’t worry,” I say, cupping her cheek. “I told you it won’t happen again, and it won’t happen again. Okay? If I do anything you don’t like, use a safe word. How about ‘cannoli’?”
She looks confused, but she nods. “Okay.”
“Okay? Okay what?” I raise an eyebrow.
Understanding dawns, and that glow I’m starting to crave lights her up. “Sì, padrone.”
Fuck, yes. That’s what I needed to hear.
“Better.”
I follow her into the kitchen as she pulls out the cannoli cream she made after I contaminated the last batch and starts explaining what she’s doing.
I cut her off. “Did I say you could talk?”
She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head no.
Good girl.
I move behind her, unable to resist. My palms slide up her arms, down her sides, over the magnificent curve of her ass. She shivers but keeps working.
“Better stay focused,” I murmur against her neck. “This cannoli filling had better be good because you know I’m picky.”
She nods, stirring carefully.
“If it’s not—” I kiss the soft skin below her ear, then bite down hard. She sucks in a breath through her teeth and tilts her head, giving me better access as I clamp down and mark her skin.
My hands roam lower, tracing the soft crease where her thigh meets her stomach. She shivers again, goosebumps rising under my fingertips.
“I might need to change up my strategy. You like the pain that comes with punishments too much. Maybe I’ll do the opposite instead.”
The spoon stops moving in the bowl, as she looks over her shoulder at me, eyes wide. “Opposite?” She asks, then immediately claps her hand over her mouth, realizing she spoke without permission.
I fucking love it.
“The opposite.” I pull my hands away and step back, heading toward the couch, whistling softly between my teeth. When I drop onto the cushions, I catch her pouting, actually fucking pouting, staring at me with those big accusing brown eyes.
“If it helps,” I offer casually, “I can go outside and smoke a cigarette.”
Her scowl deepens, and I laugh out loud. “You don’t want me to go outside or you don’t want me to smoke?”
She narrows her eyes at me. Fuck, she’s adorable. I can tell it’s killing her not to talk.
“You can answer.”
“Neither.” The word bursts out. “I don’t want you to smoke ever again. And…” Her voice drops as she returns her attention to the bowl, stirring again. “I don’t want you to leave. Yet.”
My stomach clenches. Yet. I realize with that one word, with how she says it and the way she won’t meet my gaze, that I’m going to hurt her when I walk way.
Even if she’s gathering intel for her father, she’s attached to me.
Whatever fucked up feelings I’ve been having since this whole thing started, I’m not alone.
All the guilt of the day catches up to me and I eye her steadily. Even though she’s my enemy in the real world, in the little bubble we’ve built, she is all in for me. And I need to protect her.
She puts the finished cannoli filling into the refrigerator and stands, waiting.
“Come here.”
She starts to drop to her knees, and I stop her. “No. Just… come here. Please.”
She approaches slowly, a calm smile on her face, the one I’m starting to recognize as a shield she uses to hide her real feelings.
“I can go stay somewhere else,” I say. “If it makes you uncomfortable having me here.”
She tilts her head, brow furrowing.
“Speak freely.” As much as I love her obedience, I need to know what she’s actually thinking right now.
“Are you uncomfortable?” she asks carefully.
I am. But that’s not the fucking point.
“I don’t want you to think I’m going to change my mind about having a relationship,” I say, needing her to understand. “I’m not going to suddenly want to be your boyfriend or husband.”
“I don’t,” she says simply.
“It just seems like you might be getting attached—”
“Vincenzo, we’ve had this discussion. Do you really want to have it again?”
No, I really fucking don’t.
“If it’s getting to be too much, I can find another place to stay.”
“If that’s what you want to do.” Her voice is diplomatic. “But I’m not asking you to leave. I like having you here. I like what we do.”
I nod. Silence stretches between us, awkward and heavy.
“It takes a couple of hours for the cannoli filling to set up,” she says after a moment. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
I nod and gesture for her to sit next to me. Still naked, she reaches for a blanket and glances at me for permission. I nod again and help pull it over her.
For what feels like the first time, I really look at her face. Study the curve of her cheek, the sweep of her lashes, the way her mouth curves when she hands me the remote. The trust in her eyes when she settles against me.
She nestles into my side, her hand finding my cock through my jeans easy, familiar. I grab her wrist, stopping her with a warning look.
“You can wait.”
“I just wanted to—”
“I know what you wanted to do. You have to earn it.”
Her cheeks flush pink and she nestles her head in my lap instead. Under the blanket, I run my hands over her body, mapping the curves I’m starting to know by heart. Her skin is warm, soft, impossibly smooth.
I click through channels until a movie starts. I don’t even know what it is. My entire focus is on her: the proximity of her mouth to my cock and my hand to her pussy.
She drags her nails lightly over my abs and I grit my teeth, trying to focus on the screen.
Is she trying to throw me off balance on purpose? Make me break my own rules?
When she slowly drags her nails up the inside of my thigh, I growl. “Sophie…”
She lifts her dark eyes to meet mine, all innocence. “You don’t like it?” She keeps doing it with light pressure, achingly slow.
My cock hardens to the point of pain and before I think it through, I slap her ass hard.
Her hand freezes, her breathing picking up immediately.
I glare down at her, but when her pupils dilate, I realize she’s not getting the message.
To be sure, I slide my fingers between her legs from behind. Her pussy is soaked. My cock strains against my jeans.
“I—I’m not sure if that means stop or keep going,” she says softly, her expression passive. I can’t read her.