Page 73 of A New Days Don

“I’m not taking you back here to fuck you.” Massimo murmurs in my ear, his warm breath gliding softly down my neck. A tremble wracks my body. Not one of fear, there is never fear when it comes to Massimo. This one borders on anticipation.

Oh my God… He would fuck me.

Of course, he would. This man doesn’t have sex or make love. Look at him.

His nearly black gaze meets mine, and I all but melt as he situates me in the middle of his bedroom.

“Stay put,” Simple instructions and words, but I’m too lost in him to listen.

I follow him as he walks to his closet, “What are we doing? I need to know.”

Despite my demanding tone, Massimo doesn’t answer me, “Are you going to do as I say or do you need some incentive?”

My mouth dries. His voice is deeper than I have ever heard it. Silky and decadent. I want to lose myself in the sound.

Massimo raises a dark brow, and the look he gives me makes goosebumps rise all over my skin, “Incentive it is…” He murmurs more to himself than to me.

“Incentive? What does that mean? Massimo, what’s going on?” He stops my rambling questions with a firm hand to my lower core. I gasp, all but melting for him.

“Go back over there and stay put.” Massimo murmurs, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine, “Do you trust me?”

I hesitate. Not because I am contemplating it, but because the first answer to come to my mind almost instantaneously is, ‘yes.’ How can I trust a man who lied to me? Okay… he didn’t lie, but he withheld crucial information about himself. Not to mention, he’s a murderer.

The obvious answer is no. That’s what any sane person would say. That is what I should say.

So why the hell am I nodding?!

“Yes, I do.” My mouth, body, and brain are going on an immediate timeout.

I’m so busy scolding myself, I almost miss the way the unadulterated happiness at my words softens Massimo’s features. His hands cradle my face, his thumbs gently brushing the apples of my cheeks, as his dark eyes bounce between mine. He doesn’t give me a chance to speak or take back what I said before his strong, thick lips are pressed to mine. I gasp, the butterflies in my stomach coming to life and rejoicing as every nerve ending hums with delight. His lips move slowly and sensually, and I match his intensity. The emotion he pours into this kiss as it seeps into every ounce of my being, taking root and holding me hostage.

When I feel his tongue slip along my lips, I open, tangling my own with his. He groans into the kiss. His grip on me tightens almost bruisingly so before he pulls away. His face is mere inches from mine. If I leaned in, our lips would meet once more. I try to, but he holds me back, making a broken whine claw itself out of my throat.

Massimo chuckles, his eyes hauntingly beautiful in the dim light of his bedroom, “Back to the spot I told you to wait.”

“I–” I pause when Massimo shoots me a punishing look.

“Give up your control, beautiful.” He murmurs, but I shake my head, “Yes.”

“I can’t.” My voice breaks as the desperation to maintain any ounce of control pours over me like ice water.

“Yes, you can.” He growls, his fingers lacing into my hair, beneath my ponytail, before pulling my head back, giving him complete access to me.

The softest moan slips from my lips as he pulls me back by my hair while keeping my body pressed to his. With every step I take back, he takes one forward. The pinpricks of pain work in extension to his demeanour, asserting his domination and control over this very moment.

“Move even an inch, and you will be counting spanks instead of orgasms.” Massimo’s voice melts from the harsh edge it was moments ago to something softer, more tentative. His mind is cataloguing every micromovement and expression I give him. When my legs squeeze out of their own volition, that seems to satisfy him enough to release me, “Good girl. Such a good fucking listener.”

Heat pools low in my core, and I watch as Massimo walks back to his closet. This time I don’t make a move. I heed his warning while contemplating what he could have possibly meant by that.

Would he hurt me?

My arousal begins to soak through my panties at the thought. Every sane part of my mind rejects the way I am feeling.

Clearly, I am experiencing some kind of trauma response. There is no way that my body would feel aroused by feeling Massimo’s wrath.

My mind wanders to the man in the warehouse for a split second before I shake my head.

He would never hurt me like that. Somehow, I know deep down that is true.