Elsa
A knock wakes me way too early.
I feel to damn sleepy because last night I stayed up late after Marcello’s double orgasm fest, thinking about his promise. Am I so weak as to sleep with the man who has kidnapped me? The man who wouldn’t let me go home?
No, I am strong. A De Luca. We are not weak and we are not quitters. So as attracted as I was to Marcello, I had to resist him.
“Signorina, are you awake?” It was one of the staff.
“Yes?”
“Signore requests your presence for breakfast.”
What the fuck? Did he think he could just order me around because he made me come twice? “Tell him I’m sleeping.”
The door opens and the maid peeks inside, her eyes apologetic. “He said you might say that, and to tell you that if you are not downstairs in ten minutes he will come up and get you himself.”
The sad part was that he would absolutely do it, the stronzo.
“Fine.” I was starving anyway. “But tell him I need fifteen minutes.”
“He won’t be happy, signorina.”
I smile sweetly as I push up out of bed. “He’ll get over it.”
She seems horrified by my cavalier attitude, but I don’t care. marcello needs to learn that I am not at his beck and call just because he’d given me head for the first time. I take my time in the bathroom. I shower and brushed my teeth, then apply mascara and sunscreen. I choose a pair of tiny shorts and a halter top that shows off my boobs and the lower part of my stomach.
I am not dressing to entice him. I am dressing to show him what he will never have again. Last night was a mistake, a moment of weakness on my part that will not be repeated, and Marcello can find someone else to jump into bed with. Last time I checked he had exactly that person, so why the fuck?
I go down the stairs and into the dining room. When I open the door, he puts his phone on the table and frowns at me. He is wearing a white dress shirt with no tie, the first two buttons at his throat undone, revealing off the thick column of his throat. His eyes sweep my outfit, lingering on my bare legs, before returning to my face. Not about to give in, I select a seat far away from him, even though the only other place setting was on his right.
“No.” His voice rings out in the cavernous room. “You will sit by me.”
“I want to sit here.”
He flicks his fingers and the two maids in the room scurry out, leaving him and I alone. “You don’t seem to understand. When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed.”
“I am not a dog or your toy. I will do what I want.”
I can see the smoldering challenge in his cool gaze, the ruthless determination. Still, I will not back down.
“Come here.”
“Are you not listening to me? You cannot order me around.”
He puts his elbows on the table and steeples his fingers. “If you do not come here, I will pull you over my lap and spank you. All the staff and probably Zia will hear. Is this what you want?”
I glare at him, trying to see if he is serious or not.
Shit, he looks serious.
“Fine,” I grumble and go over to the empty seat on his right. “I’ll sit here.”
“No.” He pushes back from the table a bit. “You’ll sit on my lap.”
My skin grows hot. “That’s-”
“Would you rather have the spanking, monella?”
I flick my eyes toward the door, hoping someone will come in and save me. Where was Dominico or Zia? This man is a tyrant and everyone just let him get away with it.
“I am losing patience, Elsa.”
I swallow, but force myself forward. What was the big deal? I can sit on his lap for a few minutes. We’d been more intimate last night, so where was the harm in this?
I slide sideways onto his lap, his thighs hard under my legs. He is warm and smells like an expensive cologne or aftershave, the kind that could mesmerize you if you got too close. My whole body is aware of where he touches me, like he is a magnet for my blood cells.
Instead of letting me sit to the side, he quickly repositions me with my back to his front, throwing my legs on the outside of his thighs. In seconds I am spread open, my body reclined against his. When he tries to unfasten my shorts, I put my hands down to stop him. “What are you doing?”
“Grab the armrests.” When I don’t move fast enough, he gives a light slap to the inside of my thigh. “Do it.”
Heat spreads from the spot he struck me, but it is not pain. It is a rush of excitement, and I put my hands on the armrests. After unbuttoning the shorts, his hand slides directly into my panties, reaching down until he cups my pussy. The cloth doesn’t give him a lot of room to maneuver but he shifts his fingers over my clit. I gasp, sparks racing along my spine. “Stop,” I said. “Someone will walk in.”
“Then that means you had better come quickly.” He kisses the nape of my neck then sinks his teeth into the flesh and tendons there. Wetness floods between my legs, aiding his movements over my clit. He licks over his bite marks. “I want to bite you everywhere, Elsa. Mar that beautiful skin with my teeth.”
Then he begins speaking a long string of Italian I didn’t understand, or maybe it’s the heat making them sound blurred, but the sexy words along with the low, gravely way he says them fills me with fire, like he’d struck a match inside my belly. Soon I am rocking my hips, seeking, chasing, grasping at the orgasm just another few strokes away, the pleasure coiling as my muscles tightened. Fuck, yes. I need this so badly.
All of a sudden, he pauses, his fingers sliding away, not touching where I need them most. What is he doing? I squirm trying to get him to finish me. “Marcello,” I whine, on the precipice. “Please.”
His lips travel up my throat to my ear. “Whose toy is this?”
Oh, God. Why had I ever said I wasn’t his toy? Now he had to try to prove me wrong.
I can’t answer. Instead I rub my ass against his very hard dick.
He grunts and shifts to hold my hips still. “Tell me, dolcezza. Whose toy are you? Who does your pussy belong to?”
“No, I can’t. Please.”
He moves his fingers along my labia, but not over the swollen center that begged for friction. His free hand came up to circle my throat. “I’ll give you what you want. Just tell me. I want to hear the words.”
My body screams even as my ears ring with denial. But I feel weak, so weak, when he touches me. It is like I have no control over my movements, no willpower. I am like an animal who need to come. Reason had long since departed.
The words tumbled out of my mouth. “Yours, Marcello!”
“Who does your pussy belong to?”
I dig my nails into the wooden armrest. “You. Oh, Fuck!”
He moves his fingers to my clit and the hand at my throat squeezes lightly, but it isn’t enough. I detonate, my body trembling against him as I came, and the world blanks out as the orgasm goes on and on. I am floating on a sea of color and air, far away from mafia bosses and castles. Nothing matters, except this glorious feeling.
But nothing good ever lasts. And when the orgasm subsides, shame instantly fills me.
How quickly my show of bravado had crumbled. A few pets of my clit and he had me panting, begging, practically drooling for him. I am pathetic.
My eyes start to fill, but I will not cry in front of him. What has happened is humiliating enough. I can’t stand it if he saw my tears, too.
I start to shove off his lap, but strong arms hold me in place. “Do not regret what happens between us. You like what I do to you, so don’t question why.”
“Do not tell me how to feel. You might control my body, but you don’t control my mind, Marcello.”
“You are strong willed, which makes my dick hard. But you know I am strong-willed, as well. Just remember that I will always win.”
I push up off him and he lets me go this time. I button my shorts without looking back at him, then I grab a cornetto off the table and walk out of the dining room. He and his hard dick could go fuck themselves!