Page 63 of Shattered Diamonds

“How come you brought me here and not home?”

“That is not your home. This is now your home.”

“All my stuff is there.”

“It’s not. It’s here.”

“What?” I’m flabbergasted at his candor. “Why? How?”

“Because you’re my fiancée and it belongs here.”

“Demetri.” I reach for his arm but miss. “Demetri,” I call, picking up my steps as I continue down the long hall and up the stairs. I follow behind him, wanting to tell him that we’re moving too fast. That my head is spinning. That he hasn’t even given me a ring to celebrate the long thought-out process you go through when you want to get engaged to the person you love and respect and want to spend the rest of your life with. But I know my words will fall on deaf ears.

“You hungry?” He turns back to look at me as we head down another hallway. “I didn’t get to feed you the dinner I had planned.”

“We need to talk.” I continue to follow him as he walks us toward his bedroom.

“We don’t. Talking only causes problems, complicating things when there is no other option.” He stops to look at me. “Are you hungry?” he asks again.

No other option?

“No. I’m fine.”

His gaze washes over me. The expression on his face tells me he is not satisfied with my answer. I become quiet and introspective over his use of words until I feel hot breath on the back of my legs. I turn and glance over my shoulder to see Thor at my heels. He nudges my hand and I give him a small pat. He isn’t satisfied with just the pat—just like his father—and he nudges me once again, eagerly wanting more. He begins to walk next to me. I rest my hand on his head and stroke him down his back. I’m a bit nervous. I have never encountered a dog of this size. Besides the fact that he is dark and mysterious like his owner.

We cross over the threshold to Demetri’s bedroom. His dress shirt is quickly unbuttoned and thrown to the basket in the corner. I stand there in the middle of the room with Thor at my side.

“Strip.” Demetri’s gaze slides over me.

I fidget in my spot.

“I’ve already seen every part of you.” He walks in my direction, stopping just before me. “Now strip.” He drops his dress pants to the ground a foot in front of me. I glance down. He’s already beginning to grow an erection.

“Does it ever stay down?”

He turns with a smirk and begins to walk around me, his finger tracing my skin with each step he takes. “Do I need to undress you or are you capable of doing it yourself?”

“I think I dressed myself, Mr. Carbone. So, my guess is, I know how to undress myself as well.”

“Then let’s get to it.” He rolls his finger in the air once he is back in front of me. “I have plans for you.” He turns his back to me and walks towards the bathroom. “Posto, Thor,” he commands over his shoulder as he crosses over the threshold. Thor leaves my side and walks to a bed I assume is a dog bed but not. It looks like it’s a bed fit for a king. Which by the confidence with which Thor struts his stuff across the room, he possesses king tendencies.

I sit on the chair by the dresser and remove my heels. I feel off. Giddy that I am marrying a man like Demetri but also feeling a little lost in the feeling too. I remove my dress that has both our DNA on it and grab Demetri’s shirt from the hamper he just removed. It smells of him, and I inhale with a deep breath. It’s such a profound musky scent that matches its owner. I go to button his shirt but then decide not to. One day I hope I’ll have the confidence to walk around naked in front of him, but today is not the day. So, I leave the two halves unbuttoned but grasp it closed with my hand.

I make my way to the bathroom. Demetri stands, completely naked, legs separated, and his broad shoulders flexing as he moves. He stands in front of the toilet relieving himself. I blush at my thoughts when I think about what it would feel like to hold him in the palm of my hand. I lean against the frame of the door, observing his every move.

My hands clutch his shirt to my chest. He turns, glancing over his shoulder, and sees me watching him. We connect eyes. And in that blip of a moment, I see something flicker in his expression. It was an indecipherable emotion from an emotionless, controlling man that lets me know there is more to him.

He reaches for his phone and takes a few steps towards me. “Drop your hands. Let one hang at your side and the other rest on your neck. Let my shirt fall open so I can see the curve of your breast.”

I do what he asks with no qualms. When I glance down at myself, I feel sexy. I lift my leg, bend it at the knee and partially slide it over the front of the other. Years of ballet have distorted my toes, so I curve them around the back of my straight leg.

He lifts his phone and takes a few pictures.

“Open the shirt more.”

I hesitate just a bit, but I do as he asks. His voice is a softer tone than what he normally carries his demands with. I pull his shirt to the side more, showing more of my chest and the soft swell of my belly. He snaps a few more images. Then he switches his phone from one hand to the other and turns the faucet on. Cupping the water in his hand, he walks to me and pours it over my cotton covered breast, highlighting the peeked point of my nipple through the material.

“Fucking perfect.” He reaches for the water once again. This time, he starts at the base of my neck and lets it drip down my center. His wet hand reaches for my full breast. He gives it a squeeze, leaving a handprint behind. Then he moves the material to the side and leans down and pulls my nipple into his mouth. My insides tingle and I can’t help but wonder how it is he can still perform after the multiple events of tonight, but then I remember, he only came once. It was me who got off multiple times, and I still want more of him. He slides my shirt back over my breast and strategically places it so that more is showing. He pushes the tail of the shirt resting over my hip to the back, showcasing the swell of my flesh. The rumble sounding in his chest makes me look up at him. He leans down and attaches his lips to mine. He slides his hand around my neck and plunges his tongue deeply down my throat. It’s slow and erotic, and I feel my insides tighten. His thumb under my chin forces my face to stay elevated to his. My fingers twitch at the need to touch him. I reach for his erection and wrap my hand around his length. With a slight tug, he groans. Our breathing picks up and the moment turns from a sensual photo session to a fiery moment of lust. I step into him, needing him closer. He continues to devour my mouth. I need air so I break away and go straight for the base of his lotus flower on his neck where I drew blood earlier with my teeth. His hands grip my still sore bottom, squeezing. In a moment I wasn’t prepared for, he lifts me with demands to wrap my legs around his waist. His cock rests at my seam, and I want nothing more than to push him through my entrance, but the fact that he is holding all my weight in his arms has me on edge. No matter what this strange dynamic is between Demetri and me, and my issues with my self-confidence, I know without a shadow of a doubt I want to give this man my virginity. I want to know what it feels like to be consumed by him. I want to go down in flames with him. Burn in sexual desire with him. Come with him and fall with him.

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