Page 62 of Immoral

And then he'll leave me empty, like a shell of a bullet with nothing of value inside.

When I lift my head away from his body, his intense gaze is one I've seen too many times. It swirls with satisfaction, reiterating every thought racing through my mind.

It's not a matter ofifhe'll destroy me again. It's a matter ofwhen. And I have no way of stopping it.

All I can wonder is how much worse it'll hurt this time. How will I survive? When the tears fill my eyes, I can't stop them from flowing down my cheeks.

Alarm explodes in his expression, but I can't answer him when he tries to get me to tell him what's wrong. I decide it's just better to feel other things and forget, even if it's only for tonight.

I close my eyes, pulling every ounce of strength I have within me to stop the river of tears. When I finally do it, I ask for the only thing that can give me a moment of stability. "Take me to the wall?"

Gianni holds my cheeks in his hands, swiping my tears with his thumbs. "No. You aren't okay."

A broken laugh escapes me. "But I never will be, will I? Now that I'm your wife…"

His breath hitches. Dark pools lock on mine, widening. "Cara—"

"Take me to the wall, Gianni," I firmly restate.

He hesitates.

I close my eyes, whispering, "Please. The wall. I need it."

"You need it?" he questions, as if he doesn't believe me.

Breathing slowly, I count to thirty, then swallow hard. I square my shoulders and pin my orbs to his, reining in every bit of confidence I can find before again ordering, "Take me to the wall."

15

Gianni

Not once inmy life have I truly regretted anything. Now, it consumes me, and I don't know how to right my wrongs.

My wife's eyes are full of raw, deep pain. And while I'm not ignorant that my heart's mostly black, the small part of me capable of love bleeds.

She closes her blues and whispers again, "The wall. Please."

I've never once restrained any woman to the wall while they were in emotional distress. The last person I want to make any wrong moves with is Cara, especially in our bedroom. So I almost tell her no again, but she reaches for my cheeks and drills me with a desperate expression while repeating, "Please. I need it. Give me what I need."

It convinces me not to deny her. I palm her head, kiss her on the forehead, then guide her to the new gold-and-platinum wall. To an outsider, it would look like an elaborate metal art piece. Every part of it has a purpose, designed for all sorts of deviant sexual acts. Each restraint gets hidden in the ceiling until it's time for me to push the button and lower them, which I've already done for tonight.

The ornate structure used to be black, but I replaced that when I bought the new restraints. I figured if my tesoro was going to be on it, she deserved fine metal, not black steel. And now that I'm staring at her in front of it, I know I made the right decision. She's always beautiful, but right now, she's a breathtaking, glowing light surrounded by darkness.

I push the silk robe off her so she's in nothing but her collar. Then I trace the diamond-studded piece with a finger. The longer I study her, the faster her chest rises and falls. Flames dance in her eyes, growing hotter with every second. She swallows hard. Her voice breaks as she demands, "Make me submit to you."

Something in me shifts. It's as if she woke up the devil. I've ordered her to do all kinds of things in the past. Yet not once has she ever said that to me. Without hesitation, I order, "Kneel."

Surprise blinks in her expression, but she drops to her knees and looks up at me.

I count to fifty, not breaking her gaze, debating in my head what I want to do to her. Then I crouch down and grasp her chin. Her hot breath merges with mine. A blush paints her cheeks. Her bottom lip quivers, so I swipe my thumb over it. I reach for her puckered nipple, rolling it between my fingers until it's a hard bud.

She inhales sharply, whimpering so quietly, I question if I heard it.

My cock throbs, firing testosterone-laced lust through my veins. I reprimand myself for getting worked up so early into this. If my tesoro wants to be on the wall, I'm going to need to not get ahead of myself.

I sniff hard, counting to twelve, then starting over. I'm unsure how many sets of twelve I recite. It's the only way to gain control of my body. I eventually step back and command, "Legs spread, hands behind your back on your ankles, face toward the ceiling."

Cara's eyes widen. I half expect her to disobey, but she slowly inches her knees farther apart until I order, "Stop."

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