15. Elena #2
A mischievous smile tugs at my lips. “Funny. The man I know is Adrian Cole.”
“Oh, you’re so damn wrong.” He spins me around again, pushing my torso until my ass is high in the air.
Then he delivers the first smack. The impact reverberates through my legs, tingling all the way to my toes.
He yanks the shorts from my waist in one fluid movement, swiping his finger across my clit to test for wetness.
And boy, am I dripping.
My palms stretch flat on the floor, bracing me for the next impact as I hear his belt clatter to the ground beside him.
He swirls the tip of his cock on the slick wetness of my pussy, drawing a groan from my lips. Blood rushes to my head as his hardness probes my opening.
“Now you beg for me.” His voice is husky now, laced with desire.
“Fuck you!” I spit.
He slams his hand on my thighs, just below my ass. God! The burning sensation makes my clit throb and draws even more wetness.
“Fuck. Look at you dripping all over my cock like a dirty little slut,” he groans.
Oh, that voice would be my undoing.
“Just shut up and fuck me,” I snap, pressing my ass back against him, ushering his entire length into me. A guttural moan tears through my throat.
He groans angrily, pulling himself out. “I said no touching.”
“I didn’t touch you,” I snap back.
His palms fall on my ass again, slapping the cheeks until the sensation moves from stinging to numbness.
“For every time you disobey me, you get a round of ten spanks. Am I clear?”
Unwillingly, I nod my head, my lips quivering from both the pain and pleasure.
He pulls up his jeans and boxers, yanks me back to my feet, heaves me over his shoulder and marches upstairs to my bedroom.
“Set me down. Now!”
“Too late, Principessa. I warned you.”
There are shards of glass everywhere on the floor, and some of it on the duvet. He yanks the duvet off, feels the bed for any remaining glass, then throws me on it.
I’m yet to recover from the impact when he grabs my wrists, locking them up above my head with his belt. Reaching into my drawer, he snatches out one of Puddle’s collars, strapping it around my ankles.
Then he helps me into a kneeling position, my ass high in the air, my hands locked together in front of me.
“This is so not fair!” I scream.
In one swift move, he pulls down his pants and boxers, and climbs onto the bed, his weight slightly tilting the mattress as he does.
“Life is never fair, mio amore (my love).” And with that, he slams into me.
His thrusts are feverish, like he’s desperately trying to get something out of his system. My hands reach for the sheets in front of me, grabbing on for support as waves of pleasure wash over me.
He bends over me, reaching to squeeze my tits. “Is that all you got?” I moan in frustration. If my hands weren’t bound, I’d have reached out to show him how to squeeze properly.
“You want more?” he taunts, sliding his dick out of me until the tip is resting on my opening. “You fucking beg for more.”
Shit. There’s no way I’m begging Adriano Bellandini.
He rubs the tip of his cock furiously over my clit until I’m arching my back desperately, but he won’t budge. God, I can feel my climax so near, but it’s as if it’s evading me every time I try to get into it.
And it’s all his fucking fault. He’s torturing me—he wants me to beg for him, and I feel my body giving up on me as tears of frustration claw at the back of my eyes.
“Please…” I finally mutter.
“Please what?” he snaps. I can hear the hunger climbing back into his voice.
“Please make me cum.”
“Good girl.” He slams back into me, my back nestling into him until my clit is pressed against his large balls. When he begins his movement again, my thighs begin to tremble, the release threatening to unravel every inch of my insides.
He reaches forward, flicking my nipples before squeezing and kneading my breasts.
“So fucking perfect…” he grunts.
“Don’t you dare cum before me,” he warns, sliding his hand down to my stomach before bringing it back to my breasts, massaging them furiously.
I’m about to ask how that’s possible when he lets out a loud, mangled cry, pulsing wildly inside me as he empties his seed, right as my own climax hits me with shattering force.
We’re both silent as he picks me up and unbuckles my hands and legs. “Get dressed,” he says without sparing me a glance as he heads for the bathroom.
Unwilling to take his order, I wrap my arms around myself, not moving an inch.
He returns shortly after, tucking his torn shirt into his jeans before grabbing my clothes and easing them onto me himself. I try to fight him off, but he grabs me, hurling me onto his shoulder yet again.
He carries me all the way to the hallway, then grabs Puddles from the kitchen where he’s made a mess.
When we arrive at the front door, my jaw drops open. The handful of guards ordered to watch over me are sprawled lifeless on the ground. Tears cloud my eyes instantly.
I turn back to the house, realization dawning on me. I know it’s no longer safe here. Still, I find myself saying, “I can’t leave the house. Enzo will soon recover and—”
He thrusts Puddles into my arms. “Get in the fucking car, Elena.”