Page 19 of Immoral

"Get off me!" I burst out.

He freezes then pins his gaze on mine.

"I said get off," I repeat, but my voice cracks.

He licks his lips, drags his tongue over my clit, and I whimper. Arrogantly, he asks, "You sure you want me to stop?"

No.

Yes.

Crap!

I find my strength and push the butt of my palm on his forehead. "You heard me."

He sniffs hard, deeply inhaling, not taking his orbs off mine. "Seems like you were enjoying yourself."

Another wave of heat flushes my cheeks. The last thing I wanted was Gianni to know he still turns me on. I angrily claim, "I wasn't."

He stays planted over my frame, challenging, "Is that why you were begging me?"

"Shut up," I order.

"You know you're my wife now. This game you're playing isn't going to last long."

Panic flashes in me. I push his forehead again. "Off!"

He groans and rolls off me, shaking his head. "It's time to get over your issues with me and forgive me."

I huff. "I'm never forgiving you! And I won't fall prey to you ever again!"

He scrubs his face then lunges at me. He grabs my wrists and pins them to the headboard.

I gasp and hate myself when my legs widen. His erection presses against my sex. I detest myself further because I immediately think,why can't he be naked right now?

"You think you're my prey?" he asks.

I stay quiet, fighting my body's desire to arch into him. My hitched breath merges with his. Power, control, and assuredness swirl in his dark eyes, and everything about that potent mixture makes me cringe inside.

There's no denying I'm attracted to him. One look is all it ever took. Who he is and how he handles himself is a match lighting every part of my soul. Fighting him all these months didn't get easier. It became more challenging, but I held my ground. Now, I'm unsure how I'm going to survive him—surviveus.

When I'm Gianni's, everything feels right in my life. We fit together in all ways. It's not just physical. It's an emotional and mental level that I've never experienced with anyone except him.

Every time he returns and makes his promises, it's like diving deeper into the abyss. Then he bails. Each instance, it gets harder to pull myself out. And I'm not naive enough to know this time will be an exception.

He presses his lips in butterfly kisses over my forehead, nose, and cheeks, then studies me as I hold my breath. He finally states, "If you want to experience what it's like to be my prey, I'll show you, my tesoro. But I'm afraid you'll love it too much. Then what would we be? Hmm? A husband hunting then caging up his wife, playing into the game that she craves? Because you know I'd never kill you, but I'd have to figure out how to tame you."

My stomach quivers. Something about his statement excites and scares me. It's a true sign I'm officially as fucked-up as Gianni. A vision of him hunting then caging me up in his suite, turning me into his prisoner as I anxiously await his return, gives me tingling goose bumps. A drop of my juice slides down my thigh.

He strokes my cheek with his finger. His lips hover over mine and his eyes light up. "Ah. There's the truth. Maybe that's what we'll do, then. I'll treat you like my property, since technically you are, and you would like every moment of it."

"I amnotyour property," I declare through gritted teeth.

A sinister expression I've seen too many times in my life appears on his face. "You don't know the depths of what I've done to have you right here, underneath me."

"What are you talking about?"

He wraps the leash around his hand and tugs it in front of my face. My heart beats harder. I didn't realize I still had it on. Something about seeing it around Gianni's large fist, feeling the pressure of the tension on the collar, makes my insides pulse.

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