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But I had no mercy. She would bear witness to her own carnal desperation, her full submission to my will. I’d done this to her: reduced her to a needy, lustful mess. My power over her was the most delicious thing I’d ever seen.
When her eyes locked on her own reflection, her lips parted on a soft gasp, as though she didn’t recognize herself. I pressed deeper into her, stimulating her clit on my thigh. She released a soft cry, then surrendered. Her hips rocked, her hot cunt rubbing against me. She blushed, but she stared at herself with rapt fascination as her breaths quickened and her movements became more frantic.
“Come, Evelyn. Come for me.”
She shuddered in my arms and orgasmed with a low moan. I could practically feel the waves of bliss rolling through her body, almost as though her pleasure was my own.
“That’s it,” I praised, watching her reflection along with her. She remained transfixed by the image of her ecstatic abandon. “Bellissima.”
A soft whimper caught in her throat, and her body softened as she floated down from her orgasmic high.
But I wasn’t nearly finished with her. Once I got her back to my bed, I would make her scream my name.
Chapter 20
Evelyn
The world took on a dreamlike quality in my post-orgasmic haze. Had that really been my reflection in the elevator mirror? I hadn’t recognized the sensual woman who’d stared back at me while she rubbed against a near-stranger’s thigh.
Objectively, I barely knew Massimo. The only fact I knew about him was that he worked with the Camorra. That alone should’ve repulsed me despite his physical appeal, but I couldn’t help craving him.
Because I’d seen so much more to him. I was coming to understand the kind of man he was.
Massimo was a protector, a provider. He had a code of honor. And he cared about me deeply, perhaps so much that it should unnerve me.
But no one had ever looked at me like he did. No one had ever treated me so well, like my happiness mattered to them. Not my family, and certainly not George.
My full, greedy focus remained centered on my dark protector as he quickly led me through the suite and into his bedroom. I followed without hesitation, not troubled by even a shred of fear at the prospect of being with him. He’d ignited a carnal fire inside me, and even though I’d just experienced the most powerful orgasm of my life, I craved more.
In that moment, I didn’t think about escape; I didn’t want to put any distance between us. I needed Massimo’s hands on me, his scent enfolding me. I craved for his intoxicating kiss to consume all my worries so that I could simply revel in his nearness.
He picked me up and immediately tossed me down on the bed, so that I was sprawled in the center of the mattress. I tried to scramble into a more dignified position, but his hand splayed on the center of my chest, pinning me with steady pressure over my heart.
“Stay.”
Even his orders didn’t bother me now. I was too caught up in desire to feel any irritation. If obeying his command earned me more pleasure, I wouldn’t try to resist or protest.
He dropped a quick, doting kiss on my forehead before leaving me briefly to cross to the chest of drawers. Unease nipped at me when I saw the rope around his fist, but even that didn’t stir true fear. He’d bound me before, and it hadn’t caused me any pain.
“What’s that for?” I asked. “I’m not trying to run away, Massimo.”
He shot me a crooked grin that made my heart skip a beat. “I know you’re not, farfallina. You’re being very good for me. But I want to bind you. I want you at my mercy, so I can play with you however I desire. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you love every second in my ropes.”
“Oh,” I breathed, shocked by his dirty promises. The filthy things he said to me were perverse, deviant.
And I’d never been more turned on.
I wasn’t entirely naïve; I knew plenty of people enjoyed kinky sex. I’d just never thought I was one of them. I’d never thought much of sex at all, really. It was just something people did for their partner in a relationship, a way to keep men happy. I’d never really understood what all the fuss was about.
Until now. Until Massimo.
The rope wound around my wrists in a slightly rough caress. I didn’t resist as he bound me to the bedposts, my arms stretched above my head. I simply watched him with rapt fascination: the smooth, practiced way he handled the rope and the shape of his huge, masculine hands that tied it so deftly.
When my arms were secured, he took a moment to stare down at me, as though I was an equally fascinating creature, something strange and ethereal. Painfully perfect to look upon.
He traced the lines of my cheekbones, the shape of my jaw, the line of my lower lip—memorizing me. His fingertips imprinted his heat on me with each tender brush, the touch possessive and reverent.
The tender moment turned suddenly savage when he fisted my dress in those big hands. The silk tore, exposing me the same way he’d stripped his shirt off me at the breakfast table. This dress probably cost a lot more than that t-shirt, but he didn’t seem to care about destroying the expensive garment. He stared at me as though seeing my naked body was the most valuable thing in his world. His flame blue eyes seared into my soul, peering straight into the core of who I was. Whatever he saw in me, it made his beautiful lips curve in masculine satisfaction.
