Page 29 of Captured Fantasy

I shook my head.

He picked up my torn panties and threw them in the trash and washed his hands. “Good. Wipe that attitude off your face, sweetheart. Then get your ass in my car because I’m driving you home.”

We didn’t speak on the ride to my house. I sat there with my forehead pressed against the window, my eyes shut. A confusing mess of emotion surged through my chest. I’d never had a man be that rough with me before and I wasn’t sure if I should be allowed to enjoy it.

For moment I let myself to wonder what it would feel like with another man. What if someone—Cosimo Barone perhaps—did those things to me? My pussy clenched against the seat of Federico’s car, still soaked. I had an idea that a man like Cosimo fucked and slapped and choked a lot harder than I was ready to take. But still, deep inside, I wanted it so badly my whole body ached.

CHAPTER EIGHT

COSIMO

That moment at the pool wasn’t the first time I’d seen Mrs. Russo at the clubhouse. The first time had been three years ago. At that point, I hadn’t known who she was and I didn’t put the pieces together until I saw her standing there in her black bikini. Then it all came flooding back.

I had just left Amadeo in the bar and I was walking through the main hallways of the clubhouse en route to the parking lot. I heard her heels click before I saw her and for some reason the sound pricked my ears. I kept walking as I caught her in the corner of my eye, but as the sight sank in, I stopped in my tracks.

She came around the corner, heading straight for the mirror on the wall. Her body was balanced on a pair of beige heels and she wore a blue sundress that hit the middle of her thigh. My eyes dragged up her legs to the hem of her dress as she bent over and took her lipstick from her purse. The front of my pants tightened and a heavy wave of hunger rose in me.

The short hem rode up a little further and I caught the glimpse of her round ass and her panties. White and lace.

Fuck.

She shook back her hair, sliding her purse over her shoulder. I managed to pull my eyes from her hemline and caught the glitter of wedding rings on her finger.

I remembered feeling shitty about wanting her so aggressively. Whoever she was, she was another man’s wife and I didn’t have any right to desire her.

I turned on my heel and forced myself to walk out the door.

I felt like even more of an asshole when I jerked off to the thought of her later.

Then I’d forced the image of her out of my head.

Until now.

When she turned to walk away from me at the pool, I stopped to watch her go. It was the sight of her leaving that jogged my memory, the little strip of black fabric between her ass. I stood there, glued to the ground, watching her every move until she was out of sight. The sway of her hips. The little crease in her bikini between her thighs, implying the silky pussy hidden beneath. I knew because I’d felt it. I’d pushed my fingers into her and felt her soft, wet cunt grip me.

And, my God, those tits. They were perfectly round and just the right size to fit in my hand. Her nipples pressed up against the soaked bikini top. Showing clearly through the thin fabric. They were the only thing that could convince me to stop staring at her ass and focus on something else.

I imagined for a second that she let me peel her top from her and put my hot mouth on her nipples. Wet and cold from the pool. That they warmed on my tongue as I sucked them gently. Teasing them while she moaned and ground on my knee.

The sight of her wet and almost naked stuck in my head. It played on repeat when I turned out the light at night and my hand found its way around my cock. The amount of times I jerked off to it was embarrassing. Under ordinary circumstances, I’d have called one of the girls in my phone. Except I’d deleted every single fucking one of them from my contact list because ever since that day in Mrs. Russo’s bathroom, hookups hadn’t satisfied me.

So I spent my time working, at the clubhouse, or idling at the downtown office.

One day in late spring, I sat in Lucien’s office with Amadeo doing nothing at all. It was hot and the air conditioning was running, but it couldn’t combat the heat collecting in the historic house. Amadeo had stripped down to his undershirt and pants and he lay on his back on the floor. Apparently it was cooler down there. The office dog lay sprawled beside him, one eye open.

I lay on the couch, my feet propped on the edge. The ceiling overhead was made of smooth, dark wood panels and in the center of the ceiling hung a chandelier. I didn’t have an office—most of the other soldiers did without or used the communal space in the uptown office. Lucien surrounded himself with old beauty and had insisted on having this room. It was his right as the second-in-command.

I heard a car pull up outside and Amadeo groaned, pushing himself up to a seated position. The dog rolled over and waddled out to investigate. I remained where I was, hot and sleepy.

Lucien walked in a moment later with Federico in tow. They both wore suits, although Federico had taken off his jacket, and they looked uncomfortably warm. Lucien’s gaze swept over us as he sat down, leaning back to turn on the fan and adjust the air conditioning. An icy blast of air rattled out of the window unit. I reluctantly sat up so Federico could take a seat on the other end of the couch.

“Did you drop these off, Barone?” Lucien asked, holding up a pile of folders.

“I did. Inventory reports for Cairo from Ahmed. I’ve been over them twice and they’re ready to be filed.”

Lucien nodded. “Where are you headed after this, Rico?” he said, turning his focus away from me.

“I have an errand,” Federico said lightly.

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