Hewantedher scared.
Because fear would help Sarica remember the lesson he didn't want her to forget again.
She belonged to him.
And him alone.
Always.
He stepped into the room, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the thick rug. Sarica’s head snapped up at the noise, her body stiffening. She tilted her head as if trying to discern his presence. She was completely at his mercy, and a thrill of power rushed through his bloodstream at the knowledge.
He reached for her, his touch making Sarica flinch. She tried to recoil away but he gave her no chance to escape. Giancarlo pulled her to his feet, and even as guilt slashed at his conscience—-
I need you to remember you're mine, dolcezza.
He cupped her face in his hands and crushed his mouth to hers.
The kiss was fierce and desperate, a clash of teeth and tongues that left no room for gentleness. He only meant to punish her with a single kiss, but then something changed.
And his world turned upside down—-
Per che, dolcezza?
—-the moment she started kissing him back.
No. No. No.
He hated her for wanting him.
But at the same time, feeling her hunger for him fed his own desire.
Her lips were soft and yielding, and the taste of her intoxicating. Giancarlo groaned, his hands sliding down to her hips, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.
She started grinding her mound against him, and it was the last straw.
He carried her to the bed.
Tore her clothes off her body.
But still she didn't resist him.
In mere moments, she was completely bare to his gaze.
His beautiful Sarica.
Who should only be his.
So why, dolcezza?
Why?
He knew her first time should not be like this.
But he could no longer stop himself.
I'm sorry, my love.
Giancarlo knelt between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs as he spread them wider. She gasped, her body arching off the bed, but she didn’t resist. Her blindfolded face turned toward him, her lips parted in a silent plea, and Giancarlo felt a surge of possessiveness unlike anything he had ever known.