Page 2 of Enzo
He didn’t let go—his hands remained firmly on my thighs—but his eyes softened, flickering with something unreadable. The air between us pulsed with electricity, waiting for the moment I’d decide to surrender again.
“Do you want me to stop?” His voice was low, laced with genuine concern beneath the commanding edge.
I bit my lip, heart hammering in my chest. The thought of stopping felt impossible—like pressing pause on a wildfire. But the weight of everything swirling inside of me made me hesitate.
I swallowed hard, my heartbeat pounding loud in my ears, knowing this was only the beginning. I drowned in this stranger’s gaze and studied those lips that were curved into a smug, arrogant smile promising infinite pleasure. I couldn’t find the strength to care about anyone or anything but my pleasure. I couldn’t find the strength to stop.
I was doing this for me. I deserved this tiny bit of promiscuity when the man I was promised to was our very own modern-day Don Casanova. A manwhore, if rumors were to be trusted.
“What’s it going to be,mia anima?” he asked, his deep, accented voice a slow caress that sent tremors rippling through me. On his knees before me, he waited—patient, reverent—for my final permission. “Do you want me to stop or continue worshiping you?”
In the dimly lit room of Revelation, where only soft breaths and pounding hearts filled the silence, everything stilled but us. It was reckless to be doing this with a virtual stranger in an exclusive club. A mysterious invitation led me to this exact moment with him.
I wore nothing but the Manolo heels on my feet; he was dressed in his pristine sharp-cut three-piece suit and a mask. My friends and I didn’t bother with those when we came into this club, but maybe we should have. It would have concealed our identities, although I was fairly certain Amara and Skye, my two best friends, couldn’t care less about hiding. Unlike me, they didn’t have the noose of an arranged marriage hanging around their necks.
I shivered as I took in the cloth mask that hid half of his face, letting my mind wander back to when I’d first spotted him the moment we entered the event. His sex appeal was undeniable. The way he carried himself was enough to make me want to wrap my legs around his shoulders.
Even with half his face concealed, he was ridiculously handsome, but it was his eyes that told me I could trust him to bring me pleasure, even if I never intended to see him again.
There was something bewitching about his sharp jawline, its curves and edges giving off a ruthless energy. Between those cut-glass cheekbones and square chin was a mouth that must have been made for uttering the filthiest of words.
His dark chuckle pulled me from my gawking.
“I like the way you watch me, but I’d like it even more if you gave me an answer. The sooner we get started, the sooner I can hear your beautiful voice scream for more,” he mused, confident in his ability to make any woman’s dreams come true. He probably could.
And he was right; there would be no screaming hisname, but if he wanted to make me beg for more, he was on the right track.
“D-don’t stop.” My voice was barely audible as it rattled with need, so I cleared my throat and repeated with unmistakable conviction: “But I have one condition.”
His eyes hooded, as though he got off on the challenge. “Go on.”
“You’re Italian, no?”
It wasn’t really a question. A blind person could spot his Italian heritage and hear the hint of his sexy accent, even though he seemed intent on covering it with a British one.
“Yes.” He pulled away, studying my face as he removed his blazer and dragged the cuffs of his shirt high on his strong forearms. “Is that a problem?”
This man was confident without being overly cocky, and he had an edge to him that was just as intriguing. The sheer size of his arms made my mind hazy with thoughts of being handled by him.
He cleared his throat, reminding me he was still waiting for my answer. I inhaled a deep breath, refocusing on the now, then exhaled.
“No problem,” I croaked, fighting the raging desire flooding my senses. “However, I’ll need your word that if we ever cross paths in Italy, you’ll look the other way.” I was banking on his discretion, and my body prayed he wouldn’t ask questions.
If this went wrong, if he wasn’t able to give me what I needed, my family—not to mention my future husband’s family—would tear him to shreds, and wouldn’t that be a loss for humanity. The confidence rolling off him in waves was no doubt a result of the pleasure he knew he dispensed. Pleasure, I hopedIwould be lucky enough to experience—sooner rather than later.
“If we ever cross paths and you have another man by your side, I’ll end him and make you mine,” he responded wryly, his cologne, spicy and intoxicating, wrapping around me like a blanket.
His eyes locked with mine, and the most devastating smile spread across the masked man’s face, the truth beaming from his eyes and nearly blinding me.
Oh. My.God.
I had died and gone into delulu land because something about his words had me grinning like a fool. He must think women liked hearing that sort of thing, but if he only knew who my family was, he’d likely retract his threat. Regardless, I couldn’t find the decency to care about consequences. I wanted him—neededhim—and nobody would stop me.
“I’ll hold you to it,” I whispered despite the voice screaming at me that I’d regret this night.
Was it so wrong to want a few hours in which I could lose myself in this man’s darkness and let him unravel me?
“Do you enjoy being spanked?”
