Page 37 of Bianchi

His eyes are dark, the pupils blown wide with arousal. “On your back. Ass on the edge of the bed,” he orders.

My body heats, humming with desire, and I swallow thickly before swinging my legs over the bed and lying back, desperate for his touch. When he wraps his fingers around my ankles, lifting my legs to rest against his shoulder, my body quivers in anticipation.

The head of his cock edges my entrance and I push my hips down, trying to urge him inside. He holds steady, and when he isn’t forthcoming, I lift my eyes to his, a question in the depths. His jaw is tight and there’s a look of what appears to be dominance shining in his dark blue eyes.

Gripping the bedsheet, I moan when he finally slams forward, stretching me and filling the void I didn’t know was there. My breasts bounce from the force, knocking the air out of my lungs as I try to not combust.

I stretch around him in the most delicious possible way. Like I was made for him. Closing my eyes, I brush away the intrusive thought and instead concentrate on the feel of him, focusing on the cocktail of pain and pleasure that comes with his thickness filling me.

Romeo holds still for so long that my eyes dart open, searching his. He tightens his hold on my legs, a muscle in his jaw working beneath the surface. His mouth parts slightly, drawing my attention, and I’m overcome with an urge to feel his lips on mine.

Blinking, I whisper, breathlessly, “Rome. Please, move.”

I’ve barely finished the sentence when he pulls out until only his head is filling me. I bite my lip, a stinging burning my eyes at the loss of him. Forcibly, he thrusts forward, his skin slapping against mine. I cry out, uncaring of who may hear. My fingers dig into the cotton sheets, anchoring my body to the bed as he pounds into me.

His pace increases, the time between each thrust getting shorter and shorter until his hips work in jerky, feral movements. Pleasure pools in the pit of my stomach, building until I feel like I can’t take anymore. He stokes the fire inside of me until my body erupts and I convulse around him. My moans fill the room, mixing with his grunts as he chases his release. Little black dots appear in my vision and the air leaves my lungs in a rush.

Romeo stills, spilling inside of me and my pussy clenches around him, milking his cock for every last drop. Our eyes lock when he pulls out, a mask coming down over his face, hiding his emotions from me. A blanket of regret falls over me and I wrap my arms around my waist, turning my head to stare at the pillows.

A wetness pools at my entrance and panic claws at my throat. My legs fall to the side of him and I sit up, staring down at my pussy as cum spills from me. Disbelieving, I admonish, “You fucking came inside of me, again.”

He growls, dropping to his knees and pushing my legs up and onto my chest. His voice is gruff when he orders, “Push it out, bellissima. Push my cum out of your pretty little cunt.”

I blink, confused until he runs his finger between my folds, and a moan tumbles from my lips. Instinctively, I do as he demands and push his cum out of me. His tongue is there waiting, swiping over my entrance as the cocktail of our release slides free.

This might be the hottest and dirtiest thing I’ve ever experienced.

And I want more of it.

Romeo feasts on me, swiping our cum and spitting it back onto my pussy. I’m so turned on watching him. This powerful man, cleaning me up and then dirtying me again. Unintelligible words fall from my lips and a familiar tightening forms in my core. I can’t stifle my screams as I enter euphoria, feeling everything and nothing as I come undone.

He stares at me, a heated darkness in his eyes before he stands, holding his hand out for me. “Let’s get you showered or we’ll be late for dinner.”

I’m not sure I can move, let alone face other people. In a haze of post-orgasmic bliss, I slip my hand into his, falling into his chest as he pulls me up. He wraps an arm around my waist before dropping a fleeting kiss onto my lips that feels almost... intimate.

So much for staying clear of him and finding a way out of here.

Chapter 21

Romeo

I’m sitting at the bar in the entertainment room when Aurora floats in. My breath catches in my throat, choking me at the mere sight of her. The silky material of the red dress she’s wearing clings to every curve of her body. From the front, it looks classy and demure, but when she turns toward Daniele who’s standing behind her, I can see her exposed back, hinting at the lack of lingerie.

Fuck me.

In the two weeks since I took her, she’s ingrained herself under my skin. Nothing more has happened between us since she tried to attack me, but we dance around each other each night, both aware of the other but unwilling to cross the line of captor and captive. It helps that I’ve kept myself busy, limiting our interactions as much as possible.

With the safety of a room between us and in the presence of an audience, I let my eyes roam over her freely. Ties hang over each shoulder, begging to be undone, and I clench my fist to stop myself from reaching for her. A simple pendant hangs around her neck, dangling down the length of her spine and touching the base of her back. Will it hit against my hand if I rest it there?

I look away, my jaw tight as I take a sip of my drink. The amber liquid burns as it travels down my throat. Like an addict needing a fix, my eyes find her again, bouncing over the image of her. With her hair piled on top of her head, she’s exposed, and for a moment, I wonder if she chose the dress with the intention of driving me to distraction. From my position across the room, her scar is barely visible, but I know it’s there and I wonder if she’s as aware of it as I am.

Inappropriate thoughts fill my mind. Bodies entwined as I thrust into her from behind, my fingers tracing the scar and healing the only imperfection she has. Except it’s not. There isn’t an inch of her that could be considered flawed. I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

Cristo.

I need to get the hell out of here. Standing, I demand my focus returns to the task at hand. Tonight, we come face-to-face with Francesco Costa. We have to be on our guard. We can’t have a repeat of what happened at the restaurant. Especially when some of the city’s most prominent players will be in attendance.

Throwing back my drink, I slam the glass on the counter, the bang from my frustration drawing the attention of Aurora and Daniele. With a tug of my cuffs, I walk toward them, grinding out, “Come, we need to leave.”

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