AMELIA
“What did you think of the place?” I ask after I finally get the dogs back inside at the end of the most chaotic ball throwing session I’ve ever seen.
He shrugs, but I saw him smiling out there. I know he enjoyed it. I wonder again what made him want to hide all his emotions away.
Even when he had his hand under my skirt in the diner, there was still no emotion on his face. Then he just got up and wandered off like nothing was happening.
“At the diner,” I say, deciding it’s time to understand things. “Where did you run off to?”
“Business,” he replies. “What happens if you don’t get the money for this place?”
“It gets foreclosed. Why?”
“What happens to the dogs?”
“They get euthanized if no one’s willing to adopt them. You see why I need the money?”
“That’s what you’d spend it on? This place. You wouldn’t spend it on you?”
“I don’t know. I might get myself a candy bar with some of it, maybe a pair of shoes. You know, something crazy like that.”
“One point two million and you’d get a pair of shoes?” He raises his eyebrows. “I know people in the city that can burn through that much money in a day.”
“This isn’t the city.”
“I figured that much.”
He walks toward me, getting too close. “There somewhere we can talk?”
“We’re talking right now.”
“Somewhere no one’s going to walk in on us with a lame dog or a bag of kibble.”
It’s my turn to raise my eyebrows. “Why, Mr. Rossi, what do you have planned?”
His eyes light up, and he actually laughs. It’s a deep rumbling sound, more like a growl than anything else, but it’s a genuine laugh. I wasn’t sure he was capable of them.
“The office,” I say, heading that way. “Through here.”
He follows me and I can feel his eyes on me the whole way. It makes my skin tingle. And other parts of me.
I think of the demand he made. Forty-eight hours to clear a debt that isn’t even mine. Just accompany him around town while he looks for his snitch. I think of the other suggestion he made too. Would it be so wrong?
I know why I’m nervous about the idea of letting him take me to bed. I don’t want to get attached to someone who’s only going to leave. Not only that, but he’s a criminal. Not exactly someone to take to meet my parents.
Yet why not?
Molly sleeps with people and doesn’t get too hung up about it. I should be able to do it too. I’m a modern woman. I can sleep with him once and never again if I so choose.
That’s my right. It’s not the Victorian era. He’s not in charge of me. I am.
He can’t control my emotional reaction to all this. I can control it.
How much can he get from me over one weekend? It’s not like I’ve got any money for him to run off with.
I can control myself. I can control this situation.
Or not.
We get into the office and I’ve barely turned around before he’s grabbing hold of me and pushing me back against the wall. He grips my wrists, pressing them above my head. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Finishing what I started. I hear you say milkshake and I walk away, no questions asked. That’s your safe word. If I don’t hear that word, this doesn’t stop until I’m done with you. Got it?”
“Uh-huh,” I reply as he leans close to my face, the smile gone from his lips. My heart’s pounding and I feel fear bubbling up in me, but it’s a strange fear. It’s like a fear that this isn’t real, that I might wake up and find out it was all a dream.
He leans even closer, his lips almost brushing mine. “Time to finish what I started,” he says. He looks like he’s about to kiss me, but then he lets go of my wrists.
He kneels down, yanking my panties off my hips. He pulls them down to my ankles, leaving me to kick them off as he stands up again. He grabs my blouse and is about to rip it open when I slap his hands. “Don’t you dare.
I like this top.”
He growls but slows for long enough to unbutton it properly, his big fingers fumbling until it’s falling open and my bra is spilling out.
He grabs my hands again, lifting them over my head, pinning me to the wall. This time when he leans in to kiss me, he doesn’t stop.
He presses his lips to mine and his tongue slides straight into my mouth like he’s losing control of himself. He’s still holding my hands over my head and I can’t get away. I can’t move. All I can do is kiss him back.
I love the feel of his lips against mine, the way his body holds me in place. I feel utterly safe.
I should be scared. I know I should. He’s a dangerous man. A killer. But somehow I know he’d never hurt me same as I know he means it when he says I’ve got a safe word. All I have to do is say milkshake and he’ll walk away from me.
It’s the last thing I want to say. I can’t imagine ever saying it, not with his hands sliding down to my lower back and my entire body heating up with desire.
Suddenly he grabs me and lifts me in the air, carrying me over to the desk. He lays me down on it. Paperwork cascades to the floor like a blizzard in winter.
I barely have time to look up before he’s taken hold of my legs and shoved them apart.
He lifts my knees and I’m exposed to his gaze. He looks at me with eyes filled with lust, his gaze fixed between my legs. “So beautiful,” he says. “I have to taste you.”
I open my mouth to reply, but he’s already there and I can’t say anything at all. I worry he’ll be able to tell how wet he’s made me already, tell me I shouldn’t be reacting so much.
It’s what I always worry about. That I’m too turned on. That it should take longer. I had guys in my past tell me that.
They used to say it should take more time. I tried not to let it get to me, but it’s hard to forget. I thought it was a good thing.
At least with Leo, he’s not telling me to cool it. He’s moving faster than I thought possible. Already his hands are on my ass, groping underneath me as he tastes me again.
That makes me forget everything, even what day of the week it is.
It’s not like it matters what he thinks of me, anyway. He’s gone by tomorrow night. I’ll have the money I need. I can just enjoy this moment for what it is. Freedom from consequences. Meaningless sex. I can get through it without hang-ups. I can be more like Molly.
I think all this in a second and then I don’t think about anything other than the feel of his lips kissing my inner thighs.
His fingers brush over my folds, moving them around like he’s trying to see the most hidden parts of me.
I spread my knees wider, aching with need, the orgasm I got so close to is already coming back, like it never went away.
“So beautiful,” he mutters, stroking a thick finger over my clit. “Fuck me,” I say, the words out before I can stop them.
He laughs again, that deep rumble as his lips kiss where his finger’s just been. “I decide when that happens,” he says.
“Like hell you do. Fuck me now.”
He stands up, pointing a finger at me. “Curse at me again and you’ll earn a spanking.”
I look him straight in the eye and call his bluff. “Fuck me now,” I say.
I yelp as he spins me around on the desk, pulling my hips until I’m bent over, my ass pointing toward him. He lifts my skirt out of the way.
In the time it takes to look behind me, he’s bringing his hand down onto my ass. It lands a second later, and the sting spreads through me like a ball of fire racing to every nerve ending in my body.
I never understood spanking. Molly used to talk about it sometimes, but I couldn’t see the appeal. The couple of times I was spanked for misbehaving as a kid, it wasn’t anything like this. This is completely different.
I can’t get over the fact that while he’s doing this, I’ve got his complete and total attention. The way he’s looking at me makes me feel like the most desirable woman in the country.
It’s not just that, though. There’s something safe about it, that I know I can stop it any time it goes too far. That’s a powerful feeling.
Then there’s the sheer sensation of the blow itself, the way my ass cheek heats up as he strokes it with his fingertips, the nerves on edge, my entire body shaking with need.
He spanks me again, and it’s like I was asleep and I’ve suddenly woken up. My eyes are wide, my mouth open. I can hardly breathe. I want him to stop and I want more, both feelings hitting me at once.
He slaps his hand down on my other buttock and then he’s stroking me again, feeling his way down to my pussy. “Soaking wet,” he says. “You like being spanked, don’t you?”
“No,” I tell him. “I hate it.”
The lie is so blatant I earn another deep rumbling laugh from deep inside him. “Bad girl for lying,” he says, slapping twice in quick succession.
“Say sorry for cursing and then maybe I’ll stop.”
“Never,” I snarl as I look back at him. He holds me down with one huge hand and then I’m squirming in place, losing track of the number of spanks landing. It’s getting too much. I can’t take anymore. “I’m sorry,” I blurt out and he nods.
“Good girl,” he says, reaching between my legs again. The sting is still there, but somehow it intensifies the feelings in my clit rather than distracts me.
His fingers move expertly, one sliding into my wet hole, probing inside me. Another is on my clit and I feel my body tensing up. Already I’m getting close to coming.
“You like my finger inside you?” he asks. “You want it deeper, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I reply. “Deeper.”
He slides further into me, stroking my clit all the while. “You want to come, don’t you?”
“Yes, please let me come.”
“Beg me.”
“Please, please let me come.”
“How bad do you need it?”
“More than anything.” He’s slowing down and I hate it. “Don’t stop.” “You want to come with my tongue on your dirty little clit, don’t you? You want my finger inside you so I can feel your pussy coming around it, don’t you?”
“Yes, God, yes. Anything. Just don’t stop. I’m so close.”
He slides out of me and I feel like screaming with frustration. Turning me again, he lifts me onto the desk, this time with my legs dangling down toward the floor. I try to touch myself, but he slaps my hands away. “Not without permission.”
He whips his belt out from his pants and I think he might be about to strike me with it. I wince, but he’s only grabbing my hands, tying the belt around my wrists, binding them together.
With that done, he pushes my hands over my head, looking satisfied with his work.
He kneels in front of me. I wrap my legs around the back of his head as his tongue slides in circles around my clit, touching me in the same way I always touch myself.
It’s like he’s looked inside my soul somehow, seen the things I love, and held onto that information. I’ve had no one understand me so well so quickly.
“Come for me,” he says, sliding his finger ever faster in and out of me. “Come for me, Amelia.”
“I’m going to come,” I reply. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” My body tenses up and then a moment later, it happens. I lift my hips off the desk, my legs shaking, my fists clenched.
The sensation starts where his tongue is and races through me, hurtling up into my brain, making my eyes close tightly and nonsense words come out of my mouth.
It’s the most intense climax I’ve ever had, and I’m still coming back down to earth when I hear Rose shouting for me in the corridor.
“Amelia?” she’s calling out. “You in there?”