Past Dressed in nothing but a robe, I walk down the stairs. I have been good for the past four months, and my reward is being let out of my room for long enough to take a dive in the pool. But even that grows old, and I yearn for something different. Something to break me from this unchanging hell I live in. I halt at the base of the stairs, my gaze drifting over to Jaxon on the couch. His head lifts and light blue eyes crinkle with a smile. My stomach flips twice as I beam. It makes me happy when he is pleased. It means he’ll listen to me when I talk. It means he won’t hit me. It means he’ll be gentle when he fucks me. “Work?” I nod towards the laptop sitting against his thighs. It’s been a year since he paid my stepmother off and bought me. One year since he aborted our child, thinking I had no knowledge of it. One year since he held a priest at gun point to officiate our wedding—not that he had to. I would have done anything to get away from Morwenna at that po
Present I have tried to avoid Zefiro, and I have failed. I am in every meeting, every fitting, every formal dinner or breakfast, all according to Adrianna’s orders. He doesn’t ever acknowledge me, though. We haven’t spoken to each other since that night, and if it weren’t for our gazes occasionally clashing whenever I serve him, or my fingertips mistakenly brushing against his knuckles, I’d think I might have become a ghost. I haven’t gotten close enough to ask him if my papers are ready, and I doubt I ever will. With the wedding drawing closer, the chores and events are crazy and choked up. Adriana barely has time for my antics, and I don't have a moment of rest either, with Valentina and Mrs. Visconti trying their best to murder me with chores. They can't have me thrown out--the former's argument with Zefiro on the matter was loud enough to make the topic of gossip the entire week--so they'll make my time here more difficult than a worker's should be.It doesn’t help that
Shoving every thought of him to the back of my mind, I get to work. In truth, all I can think of is him as I tire myself out. All I can hear is his faint laughter and that accent. I wonder who he’s speaking to, who he has deemed worthy of giving his time and his smile. All I can smell is his cologne. And when I get down on my knees to wipe underneath the white shelf, I think off his hands in my hair, his cock slamming against my throat. I swallow a moan, embarrassed as heat travels all the way to my core, causing my thighs to clench. I’m losing my shit over this dark Italian prick, whose presence saturates space and charges the air in the cool room. A man whose gaze sparks with cold indifference when I steal a glance at him.Deep irritation flares inside me--at him, at myself. “I need to clean the desk,” I snap. “If you would be so kind as to move.” The last word is a toxic blend of sarcasm and venom, sharp enough to make him halt mid-sentence. He cocks his head, like a viper
I'm a dirty little liar. I could never have the upper hand in this. Perhaps the anger had driven me, but it was more than that. It's that he is right. He's been in every dream of mine in the past week, making love to me like I never have been before. I blame him for touching me. It's easy to put the blame on him because it means I don't get to ask myself why I came for him that night. Why I begged for it. I push in another finger and it glides in easily, offering no resistance. I'm soaked. My fingers might be too slim, too small to reach where I want it too, but his razor sharp focus on my pussy does more than enough for reach. I release my bottom lip, intent on moaning loud enough for Valentina to hear when he speaks diplomatically into the receiver, "I have a meeting scheduled in five minutes. I'll join you in an hour." His eyes track the movement of my tongue over my bottom lip. "And thirty minutes." He hangs up. My chest rises and falls, my back arching as his
There is no pause for adjustments. None for gentle teasing. The position makes me bare, open, his penetration wickeder, deeper as he seats himself in so deep, my pussy burns, my abdomen cramps, my eyes water and my nails dig into his skin. I'm seated now, my head dropped back against his shoulder, his nose in my hair, inhaling deeply. "Are you hurt?" he asks me, his accent thicker, almost inaudible as his hands remain, bracing my waist. I hate that he doesn't sound as undone as I am. I hate that he has me gripped around him like a vise and he still sounds like an asshole. I hate him so much, I feel the fierce burn of it in my chest, right beside the awakening hunger as my muscles struggle relax. I must be broken somehow, damaged, to be attracted to this. When I don't respond, pain erupts inside me as he pushed yet another inch in. He isn't completely seated yet. I whimper, a tear rolling down my cheek and I nod, unable to think past the pain burrowing inside me. He raises
I open my eyes, expecting to find him flaccid, but he's far from it. Insatiable, I dub thee. Cum spills in small droplets, controlled as he strokes himself, ensuring it is enough to run down my lips, into my mouth, down my throat. But not nearly enough to be the entirety of his load. His reddened, pulsating tip says as much. He pulls my hair forcing me up from where I rest on my knees and he strokes himself, teasing the seams of my lips with his bulbous head. I stare at it, swallowing against the sudden thirst in my mouth. What is wrong with me? He pulls back, tracing my chin with it, my breasts, my nipples. Everywhere but my mouth. Tingles spread through my belly, sending warmth down to my very toes. I swallow, again, a word I will never utter forming on my lips. Please. But I was stupid to think he'd ask me to utter it anyway, because he doesn't need my permission to take what he thinks is his. He plunges his cock into my mouth, making me taste myself on him. It is disgusting,
Two days of watching him stare at me unabashedly over the dinner table, ignoring every one else, brushing his knuckle ‘accidentally’ over the inside of my palm, directly along my pulse point when I served him a glass of wine, running into each other in the hallway and tingles spreading along my spine when his arm brushes past mine.Two days was all I could last before I find myself standing outside his bedroom by midnight, a cold breath curling past my lips in a cloud. My hands are cold against my scalp as I brush them through my wet hair. My teeth scrapes softly against my bottom lips, filling my mouth with the taste of strawberry lipstick. Another exhale and I begin to contemplate every choice I made in my life that led me to this exact spot. I’m a married woman. “Jaxon’s mistress,” that dark, sultry voice in the back of my mind says. “He has a beautiful family. He has children while he took yours without giving you a choice. He called you a whore.” My fingers twitch, reaching for
Past “Zefiro, aspetta! Per favore!” Enzo yells, hot on my heels and I’ve never hated the family tradition any more than I do now. It is all that keeps me from swiveling and blowing his brains out. “Zefiro!” The guards pivot upon sighting me. A storm brews overhead and they can tell what comes next. They know well to stay far from it. The violence. It builds under my skin, humming to life with every feminine sob that flits down the stairwell. It grows with every platter of bare feet against marble. It sings to me. Kill. Kill the fucker. Take him apart, limb from limb and have each hang off the walls of my bedroom like portraits, so she sees what happens to the next man she brings in there. But Enzo is blood. Famiglia over everything else. Frustration is a living thing in my chest, curling, spreading, mingling with the rage. I bite my tongue and draw blood. I ram my fist into the wall until I can’t feel my right hand anymore. But the pain does nothing for
“H-home?” My breath lodges in my throat, and for the first time, I notice the woman standing behind, speaking in hush tones into her cellphone. Waves of full red hair falls over the back of a black long dress and her arms drop, her body tilting to face me fully. Icy dread pours through my veins, turning my blood to frost as the world around me closes in on the click of red heels and equally red smile. A crushing weight presses down on my chest and the nauseating stench of wrongly layered perfume suffocates me. A hand comes down on my hair, running down my face and I curl back, my ass hitting the floor and my heels scraping against stone. “N-no. Get away from me!”Valentina gives an order and I am set back on my knees roughly, my head pushed down until my lips brush against Morwenna’s feet.“I’ve been looking for you, Susanna,” Morwenna says with faux worry, her hands threading lovingly through my hair. “Why do you do this to me? Do you have any idea how worried Jax is? How could yo
My head slams into something hard on descent, stirring me awake. I moan at the pain, but my voice is muffled, my lips dried and hurt around a foul tasting piece of cloth.A gag.My vision is tinged with darkness and my air filtered as I breathe in deeply. It takes a moment to realize the darkness is a hood over my head and my legs and hands have been bound, skin chafed raw from restraints.I kick, frustrated, screaming into the gag, rolling and hitting into anything I can feel around me, but I only end up hurting myself. I instantly recognize the steady hum of aircraft and engines that drowns out the sound my assault, and my blood runs cold.Where am I being taken? I knew freaking out wouldn’t help but being somewhere in the skies, literally anywhere right now, in the entire world, doesn’t exactly calm my nerves.How long have I been out and who took me? Was it the enemies Rizzi spoke of?Was it Jaxon?Every hum, every shift of the engines sets my nerves on edge. My heart is pounding
Rizzi snorts. "His life is never in danger, Mrs. Hawke." I bristle at the name, but say nothing, changing my direction and heading for our parking spot. I'd have loved to stay longer but I'm too young to die and a bullet through my head is a rather ugly sight. "How long have you known him?" I ask, sighting Rizzi's car down the lot. There's a black van directly behind it, parked vertically, blocking us out. I notice his frown and at a second glance, I add with a mouthful of chocolate dipped cones."There's someone in the driver's seat." He nods. "Thirty-four years." Rizzi's frown eases a little, the corner of his eyes softening into a secret smile. "He used to call me *frantello*." I start to smile but the air on my neck rises suddenly, a sense of unease coming over me. I huddle closer to Rizzi and match his brisk steps, unable to shake the off-feeling. "You're making a mess," Rizzi says as we reach the van, staring pointedly at the uneaten ice c
Sometimes, I wondered if I loved having my heartbroken, making choices that only left me in tears. Maybe I was a sucker for pain and didn't know it yet. The week crawled by rather slowly and all I wanted to do was bawl. I didn't leave my couch, I felt like death. And when I did go to work, I couldn't function. I counted down the hours until I had to return home. I looked outside, expecting to find him, or his men watching me. I woke up, longing to find my underwear stolen or my home breached. But there was no sign of him anywhere. It wasn't until the next week the feeling returned. The tingling sensation that ran down my spine. One that told me I was being watched, followed. My head snaps back as I hand over my credit card, eyes searching every face, looking for a familiar set of golden brown eyes and dark hair of head. I find a familiar face, one I don't like very much. Rizzi's. Bursting out of the Café violently, I take a different tu
I am cursed with a raging hard-on and a sulky mood, hearing the shower run while I make pasta. I’m fucking cooking with a damned boner. Rizzi would laugh so hard, I’d shoot his brains out if he was here.When I find her minutes later, she’s curled up in bed, sporting a large shirt and pink shorts, her eyes glued to her TV screen, a half-eaten chocolate bar hovering before her lips as she watches a show with severe concentration.It’s a domestic scene, wrong and so bloody perfect I pause in the doorway. “No way he said that!” She howls, her legs kicking in the air. Her eyes, they twinkle, and I don’t know what to do with myself. She catches sight of me by the door and squeaks a sound that should be unattractive, but makes my inside burn. She sits up, crossing her legs and absentmindedly patting down her hair. “Where’s yours?” she mumbles, eyeing the tray suspiciously.I shrug, dropping onto the mattress beside her. Soft. Too soft. Everything smells like her. “Not a fan of pasta”She
A small scream echoes through the small apartment, and I look over my shoulder turn just enough to catch her silhouette in the doorway, her mouth a slash of fury.It felt good--her returning home from work to me. Though her expression states otherwise. “How the hell did you--never mind. I don’t even want to know.” She stabs a finger toward the hallway, accusation, judgment—both aimed squarely at me. “Get the fuck out.”Wild curls curtain her face but the fire in her grey eyes blaze me to the core. Some bizarre flutter runs deep in my gut and I frown, puzzled by the clear anomaly. Must be indigestion. Only women had ‘butterflies’.My gaze drops, tracking the soft, gray camisole she wears, cloaked beneath a bulky brown wool coat and loose black jeans. Not even a sliver of skin.I suddenly despised the world that made a twenty-two year old hide her own body. I was hardly one to speak, though, lusting after said woman when I was over a decade older. Would she have laughed more if she gr
The click of heels against the checkered floors are especially violent and the clouds outside are stormy, much like Nonna’s mood.“Do you have any idea how much I paid to get these off the media?!” She yells, her voice cracking as she sets her tablet down on the table beside me.A side glance confirms pictures from my...engagements yesterday. Gianna sips her coffee with ridiculous concentration. Alessandro cuts me a surprised look before returning his attention to Sylvia, whose ass he seems rather fascinated with. Too bad he no longer has enough fingers to get her there, or any other woman for that matter.Valentina looks livid. She’s had that expression since last night, questions heavy in her emerald green eyes.Maybe I was an asshole, like Susanna would passionately call me, but we did have an agreement. I gave her my name, my money and never requested her presence in my bed as long as she never asked questions on who I chose to fuck, so long as it remained private.I suppose I did
My throat tightens and I snatch my hand back, hiding it from him and prying eyes. “Anything is better than being yours or another man’s ‘possession’, and yes, I do love it here.”His jaw ticks subtly and I might not have noticed if I wasn’t devouring his face with my eyes. He stares at me, long and hard, but he doesn’t speak.Feeling unusually tiny under the intensity of his gaze, I whisper, bitterness clogging my throat. “Does she know you’re here? Your wife?”His lips curl into a cruel smirk. “Valentina understands not to meddle in my affairs.”Blood rushes to my cheeks and I look away, curling my hands in my lap. “Why are you here, Zefiro? What do you want?”“I got impatient.” His eyes are dark. “You’ve had a year to think. It’s about time you came back to me.”“I’ll pass on that, thanks.”Dropping the stylus pen, he reaches into his pocket and withdraws a small box. He pushes it across the table slowly. “You see, that’s where you got it wrong, Sue. I wasn’t asking.”My pulse spike
There are natural disasters. Tornadoes, whirlwinds, hurricanes, floods. And then, there is Zefiro. Zefiro the man, Zefiro my lover, Zefiro my stalker. A destructive force made of flesh, bones and beautiful tan skin. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen—could ever see, with the loveliest set of eyes I’ll ever look into, no matter how often they haunt my waking moments.Golden brown like molten honey in the sunlight, his eyes are fastened on me as he cuts through the too eager crowd, who peer at him in awe.Pity they don’t know.He could melt hearts with a deceiving smile, convince those who couldn’t look past the surface that he was...just a man. Gorgeous, yes, but normal. But there was nothing normal underneath that hot, muscular skin. There was nothing sane behind those eyes. Only fire, blood and want.That he located my work place doesn't even surprise me. Frankly, I’ve been waiting since I found the tattoo at the base of my spine. I knew it was only a matter of time till he showed