Page 41 of Surprise Pregnancy for Villain

After placing the dishes in the sink, boredom sends me to explore the rest of the cabin. I walk toward the other door adjacent to mine – Ezio’s bedroom, I assume. To my luck, the door is unlocked. I slowly push it open and peek inside. I’m not sure what I’m afraid of. It’s not like there’s anyone else in the house. Still, I move cautiously and feel along the walls with my hand until I touch the light switch. The room illuminates, and I find another bedroom styled similarly to mine. There isn’t much inside his room except a closet. I open it, and my mouth hangs open.

Seriously?

Not even a stitch of clothing. That only means one thing.

Ezio Rossi doesn’t live here.

Moving to the chest of drawers, I pull them out one by one. They’re all empty, save for the top drawer that contains a few shirts. I lift one out and slip it on. I keep looking around, getting even more bored when I don’t find anything that interests me.

After returning to the common area, I spend a few minutes warming myself up in front of the fire, then I retreat to my bedroom and turn on the tv. In an hour or so, the sun is going to rise but sleep still evades me. The rain outside has been reduced to a slow patter, and my thoughts run back to Ezio.

If it weren’t for him, I’d be having breakfast with my father and Aunt Carlotta in an hour. I’d be hanging out with Katie, Joe and Simon. I’d be excelling in my classes, honing my painting, looking forward to graduate.

Yet…

On the flip side, I’d be planning my wedding to that monster.I shudder at the thought.

Yeah, if it weren’t for Ezio, I’d most likely end up a battered wife, beaten into submission, a pitiful story to be told to other mafia princesses so that they’ll do as they are told.

Well, I’m having none of that bullshit.

This is definitely better. I’d rather be trapped here than in an engagement, forced to be Lucca’s breeding mare in a loveless marriage. Maybe this was the divine intervention I’d been wishing for. God’s way of putting me out of harm. What if Ezio’s decision to capture me is actually what will set me free?

The more I think about it, the more I warm up to the thought. Ezio is a tough guy. He’s a Rossi. Lucca wouldn’t dare challenge him. My father wouldn’t be pleased, but he’ll think twice about challenging Ezio, too.

Right?

How would my captor react if I told him I wanted to stay? Would he look at me crazy if I begged him not to send me back home? What if I told him I want to be more than his prisoner, that I want more of that kiss?

More than that kiss?

My stomach does a flip as I trace my lips with my finger. Ezio’s skillful tongue still lives rent-free in my head. His touch still arouses me. I still ache to feel his body crushed against mine. That hard cock pressed against my belly, ready to fill me. God, I want to know what it feels like so badly.

With a moan, I trace my fingers down the line of my stomach and toward the flesh between my thighs. My body jerks as I touch myself, the dripping arousal coating my fingers. I slip a finger inside me and circle my clit with the other hand. It feels amazing. I spread myself, adding another finger and increasing the thrusting inside me.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, rocking my hips, throwing my head back and closing my eyes. “Fuck.”

I feel the slippery fluid drip from my pussy, running down the crack of my ass as I fuck myself, flicking my clit, bringing myself to the peak that I haven’t been for a while. I imagine Ezio standing before me, naked, abs glistening in the light, his cock at full attention. His eyes are half-drooped as he strokes himself, but I can still see how hot and heavy he is for me.

“Come for me, Nicki,” he murmurs. “Come for me hard.”

My pussy tightens around my fingers. Pleasure sparks in my stomach, spreading downward. I gasp, my body bucking, welcoming the violent passion that’s coming—

A sudden thump makes my eyes fly open. The Ezio I see before me isn’t naked. No, in fact, he’s fully clothed with his jeans and jacket on. It takes a moment before my brain registers that he’s actually here.

He’s actually real.

Chapter Eighteen

Nicoletta

“Christ, Ezio,” I mutter, grabbing his shirt and quickly slipping it on with trembling fingers. “Do you ever consider knocking?”

“I’m sorry,” he replies, not looking sorry at all. “I assumed you were asleep.”

“Well, you can take your assumptions and march right out that door.” My face is so hot, you could probably fry an egg on my cheek.

“And if I don’t?”

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