Page 24 of Captured Fantasy

“No, it hurts,” I admitted.

“Really?” He sounded surprised. “It shouldn’t.”

“Well, every time Gino did it to me it hurt. Do you like it? Better than vaginal sex?”

“Yes,” he said, without hesitation. “I don’t fuck around with getting women pregnant, so I don’t have vaginal sex right now anyway.”

Once he started talking, he didn’t stop. I felt like Father Rinaldi in the confessional as I listened to him in the dark, agreeing sleepily whenever he paused. He told me how much he dreaded his impending marriage, how he hated the idea of fucking someone so much younger than his thirty-five years. He wanted someone with a little experience, but he did admit that he hated the thought of sleeping with someone who had been passed around.

It was hypocritical, he admitted.

He had a lot of anger inside him and in the darkness of my room it was all spilling out. I felt it in his words, in the heat of his breath against my neck, and in the grip of his hands on my body. I lay there, like a vessel in his hands, and let him pour all of that ugliness into me.

He finally fell into an exhausted slumber. I lay in his arms and listened to him breathe and wondered if he had ever opened up to anyone like this before.

When I woke the next morning, he was already gone.

It was barely noon the next day when the doorbell rang and I found Federico on my porch. He wore a pair of gray dress pants, a white button-up and aviator sunglasses. I stepped aside and invited him in, feeling his stare on me as I walked down the hall to the kitchen. He looked out of place in my feminine house, but he took it in stride and nodded approvingly as he looked around.

“You did a good job on the renovations,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said. “Can I get you a coffee? Espresso?”

“Espresso would be great,” he said, laying aside his coat.

He had one of those deep voices that still managed to be as smooth as silk. It sent my heart pattering as I made his espresso and brought it to him. I didn’t want coffee, but I also wanted him to feel at ease so I made myself a cup and sat down.

“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Antonucci?”

“Call me Rico,” he said, waving a hand. “I’ve been thinking over your request and I made some decisions.”

I sat up straighter, my stomach fluttering in anticipation. “Really?”

His black eyes rested on me with intensity. “I can’t give you back your driver’s license because people will find out. It will cause problems and Romano will accuse me of not having control of my women. But, I’m willing to give you full access to your account back.”

That was better than I’d anticipated.

“But,” he said. “I want a list of your purchases at the end of each month.”

Disappointment flooded me. “What do you mean?”

“Just that. If you buy milk and eggs, write it down.” He shrugged as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

I flushed and got to my feet, circling the counter to take down a tin of cookies. While my back was turned, I composed my face, making sure he couldn’t see how disappointed I was. When I came back to the counter, he was leaning on his elbows, watching me closely.

“I have personal items I would rather not put on a list to give to you,” I said.

“Like what?” His mouth twitched, the corner turning up into a smile.

I shrugged, heat rising in my face. “Feminine hygiene, birth control, underwear—that sort of thing.”

“I’ll be the one with the list,” he said.

“I know.” I stared back at him.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re on birth control and I know you buy tampons. Considering that I’ve taken your panties down, I can safely say I know you buy those too.”

The way he said panties sent a tingle up my spine and down between my legs. Was it arousal? Or just the way his black gaze pierced me, pinning my feet to the floor? My fingers tightened on the edge of the counter as I thought over his proposal. Then I shook my head.

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