Page 9 of His

My shame struck me like a slap across the face, and my cheeks heated so hot that I felt like they had caught fire. I was losingmy mind. I couldn’t be thinking like this. There was no way Massimo saw me as anything other than his best friend’s kid and that was that.

I had to bury my fantasies somewhere deep and never think about them again.

“Bambina,” he said, the Italian word for little girl making my heart skip a beat, “if you don’t open this door right now, I’ll break it down.”

I froze, the mascara wand hovering in midair. He sounded really angry. My heart pounded in my chest. Was he serious? No. He couldn’t be. That would be crazy.

I shook my head, dismissing the thought. Massimo wouldn’t actually break down the door. He was just trying to scare me and force me into being compliant. I took a deep breath and continued fixing my makeup, taking my time just to spite him.

The next thing I knew, there was a loud crash, and the door handle broke off. I jumped, my heart racing as the door swung open. Massimo stood there, his face a mask of barely contained fury.

“Bambina,” he growled, stepping into the bathroom, “I told you to open the door.”

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. Apparently, he hadn’t been bluffing.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered, dropping the mascara wand into the sink. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

His eyes softened slightly, but the anger was still there, simmering just below the surface. There was something else inhis eyes that I didn’t recognize. Was that desire like I’d maybe seen before?

No. It couldn’t be. I was just imagining things. Maybe I was going crazy and just making stuff up in my head? Maybe I was going into shock over everything that had happened today.

Or maybe this wasn’t a game after all.

I thought I was just toying with him, that I was just being coy and that he’d eventually give up and leave me alone here in my home so I could slide into bed later that night and touch myself while thinking about what could have happened instead.

This was definitelynotthat.

“I don’t have time for games, Sofia. Your safety is more important than your stubbornness,” he said, reaching out and taking my arm. “You’re not hurt, right?”

“No,” I said softly, feeling a little overwhelmed.

Without warning, he moved closer, his eyes dark with mysterious intent. He reached out and ran his hands over my body, his touch firm yet gentle. My breath caught in my throat, and a shiver ran down my spine. Every nerve in my body seemed to come alive under his touch, and I could feel a blush spreading across my cheeks.

His hands slid over my shoulders, down my arms, and across my waist, lingering for a moment on my hips. I felt a thrill of something more than just fear—something deeper, more primal. I enjoyed it for what it was, but I was a bit too ashamed to admit it, even to myself.

“You’re coming with me,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “No more games.”

“No,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I don’t know why I still refused him at that point. In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have, but I needed to stand my ground.

I didn’t need him. I could take care of myself.

Without another word, his eyes darkened, his fury simmering just below the surface, and I suddenly got a very bad feeling about all of this, but at the same time, my clit throbbed to life. I could feel my nipples hardening, still safely encased in my bra-lined shirt, and I hoped it was thick enough to hide both tight little points. His hand gripped my upper arm, firmly but still somehow gently as he guided me toward my bed.

Why was him manhandling me like this so hot?

Wait.

Why was he leading me toward the bed? What the fuck was going on? What was he going to do?

The next thing I knew, he was sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling me over his lap. The world tipped sideways, suddenly his hard thighs were pressing against my belly, and I was staring down at the flowery quilt on my bed with my hands out in front of me. I yelped in surprise, struggling against him as his hand pressed down on my hips, pinning me down in place.

“Wait, Massimo, what are you doing?” I exclaimed. He ignored me, his hand moving to the hem of the pretty white lace skirt I was wearing.

What the fuck was happening right now?

“I’m a very powerful man,bambina,and right now, you and I are going to have a very frank discussion about what happens to little girls who tell me ‘No.’ And for once, you’re going tolisten,” he said softly and my whole body went rigid. What was he talking about?

Wait.

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