Page 36
A small puff of air leaves her as she puts her bag down and slowly unbuttons her jacket. Out of patience, I remove it from her body and throw it to the side.
“Why am I here, Domenico?” she asks, her tone deceptively soft while her eyes burn with… something. “I’m tired, and I wanted to—”
“I’ve had enough of your sulking,” I interrupt as I pull my silk tie loose, working it free with both hands while I keep my eyes on her face.
Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. The word hits her like a slap—I can see it land, see the way her shoulders draw back and her chin lifts. Good. I want her to feel it.
“I haven’t been sulking,” she replies defensively.
“Oh?” I question, looping the tie around my fist. “So you haven’t spent the last three nights pretending you were asleep instead of talking like an adult?”
“Who says I was pretending?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Do you think I’m stupid, wife?”
She swallows so hard the pulse in her throat jumps. “No.”
“Then stop treating me like I am.”
I close the distance between us and step behind her before she can retreat. When she tries to turn, I grab both her arms and bring them to her back. Then I use the tie to bind her wrists together.
“What are you doing?”
Ignoring her question, I knot the tie tight enough that she can’t work it free. It’s not tight enough to hurt as long as she behaves and doesn’t fight it.
“You’re asking the wrong questions,” I tell her as I spin her around to face me.
“What’s the right one?”
“How you’re going to make it up to me.”
She scoffs. “Make what up to you? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Hmm, I’m not so sure,” I murmur. “Except for the last three nights, I’ve made sure you’ve had two orgasms every night, haven’t I?”
She nervously bites her bottom lip while nodding.
I crouch in front of her and slide her right shoe off, then her left. Her toes curl against the carpet. “That’s six orgasms you owe me.”
Her mouth falls open. “That’s not… you can’t just say I owe you that.”
I pull her socks off next, one at a time, my fingers brushing the arch of her foot. She shudders. “I can,” I say, straightening. “And I am.”
My hands find the side zipper on her gray pants, and I slowly draw it down. Her breath catches as the fabric slides down her legs, pooling at her ankles, and I step back so she can kick them free.
When she doesn’t, I tell her, “Step out.”
Then I hook my thumbs into the waistband of her panties and push them down her thighs. She’s already wet. I can smell it on her, that warm, sweet scent that’s been driving me fucking insane for three nights while she pretended to sleep inches from my cock.
I straighten and reach for my belt. The leather slides free from the loops with a sound that makes her furrow her brows while her nostrils flare. I move back to my chair and sit down, draping the belt across the arm.
“Come here,” I order as I spread my thighs.
She doesn’t move.
I crook one finger at her. “Kira.” Her name in my mouth is a warning. “I said, come here.”
She takes one step. Then another. Her bare feet are silent on the carpet. When she’s close enough that I can feel the heat coming off her skin, I pat my right thigh.
