Page 52 of Passion and Revenge

At those words, I spin around and retrace my steps toward her with my hands clenched at my sides. I don’t know what my plan is. I don’t know if I’m going to kiss her or strangle her when I get close enough.

But Sienna makes up my mind for me.

With her eyes holding mine spellbound, she drops to her knees before me.

CHAPTER 17

Sienna

“Get up.”

It’s a clear order, but I have no plans of obeying him.

“No,” I say stubbornly.

“Sienna, you don’t know what you’re doing. Get up.”

I’m a grown woman, for Christ’s sake. I want to tell him that he’s just like my father, who’s always trying to dictate to me what I should or shouldn’t do.

Well, I’ve never let my father steer me around, even after years of knowing me. I wasn’t about to let Alessandro, who I knew for all of two seconds, order me around.

“This is where I tell you that I know exactly what I’m doing,” I reply. “There’s nowhere else I want to be than here, at your feet.”

He seems impossibly large from this angle. Tall, broad, and imposing. He looks like he could pick me up and crush me with his hands. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but something about that thought makes my nipples harden in my bra.

“Fuck, Sienna,” he croaks, his eyes two pools of lust shining down at me. “You should want better for yourself. You should want the best. A finance guy with health insurance and the works.”

“This isn’t a marriage proposal,” I retort. On the one hand, I want to stand up and act like this never happened, but a larger part of me wants this—no—needs this.

Even though it’s all shades of wrong.

Despite Alessandro sending my father those photos and letting me see his reply, I know he’s not a good man. Hell, if it weren’t for him, Papa would be seeing me live, and there wouldn’t be any need for him to be a middleman in our communication.

He’s still my captor. I can’t forget that. At the same time, I can’t help but realize he hasn’t hurt me since he brought me here. This man can hurt me in a million ways, but instead, he chooses to show me some level of grace.

I don’t believe a word he said about the selfish reasons for his actions. It may explain him sending pictures to my father, but it doesn’t explain him relaying Dad’s response.

It seems the big, terrifying monster isn’t as evil as he thinks he is.

“Is this how you say thank you to all the men?” There’s a bite to his question that I don’t understand.

Most men would be jumping at the opportunity to take my virgin mouth. Well, to be fair, Alessandro isn’t most men. There’s nothing regular about him.

“Does it matter?” Because the thought of telling him he’s the first man I’ve ever gotten on my knees for makes me want to dig my own grave and jump right into it.

How humiliating.

He’s probably used to women who know their way around a man’s body. Women who can take a cock to the back of their throat with expertise and do all the fancy tongue tricks.

I can just imagine him laughing in my face when he realizes how much of an amateur I am.

Probably the same reason he disappeared for three days after I just lay there and let him do all the work. After all the time I’ve spent analyzing it, I’ve come to the conclusion that it was definitely the worst sex of his life, which was why he wasn’t rushing back the next day, hoping for a repeat.

“Sienna, how many men have you said thank you to by letting them fuck your face?” he demands.

“A lady never kisses and tells.”

He becomes as taut as a stretched-out spring. “I don’t want to have to find out for myself.”

---