Fuck, I loved seeing my tattooed fingers against her smooth skin. It was a perfect representation of the dark stain I was on her glowing purity. I wanted to taint her, to infect her so entirely that no one would ever doubt who she belonged to. Tugging her close, I brushed my lips over her jaw, inhaling the sweet scent of her.
“Three,” I murmured against her soft skin. I turned and backed her toward the bed. When I pushed her away, she fell, bouncing on the mattress. “Don’t move, Emilia, or you’ll just make it worse on yourself.”
She stared up at me, a frown marring her youthful features. “Gio, I don’t—”
“I can gag you if you prefer? I like hearing you beg me, princess, but your silence will do just fine for what I have in mind.”
She snapped her mouth shut, and I plucked a length of silk from my jacket pocket. I yanked both hands above her head before binding them. And she remained so beautifully submissive and compliant as I did it because somewhere, deep down, she knew she needed this.
Emilia was lost, crying out for me to find her, to remind her of her place in this blood-stained world. And it was right here, as mine.
I fastened the restraints to the metal headboard and stepped away. She looked so perfectly vulnerable, and I pictured her bound to my bed in every different way, her legs held apart, pink pussy open and dripping. Helpless. Fuck. My dick went from semi-hard to granite in an instant.
She tugged against the restraints as though she wanted to escape, but I knew she didn’t. Not really. For the first time in a week, there was a spark in her eyes, even if it was laced with hatred. I’d take it over her indifference or pain any day.
“You can hate me all you like, Emilia. But you need this, and I need you.” I slipped my jacket from my shoulders, and she quickly became a slave to her own desire, every bit of her focused on me. I didn’t want her to think of anything but me and her, and us.
When I was naked, she snapped her gaze from my hard dick and squeezed her eyes shut. Fighting. Always fighting.
“I think—”
“Don’t think, Emilia.” I gripped the hem of her shirt, and she shivered as I slid it up her body, then left it wrapped around her bound arms, covering her eyes.
Her lips parted, a shaky inhale making its way past them. God, she looked perfect, her body stretched out like my own personal playground.
I sucked one nipple into my mouth before biting down and dragging a gasp from her.
When I kissed her, she was slow to respond, hesitant, as though waking from some dormant state. I would drag her out of her own mind and bring her to me kicking and screaming if I had to.
Those plump lips parted, and she sucked in a deep breath, inhaling me as though I were the oxygen she needed to breathe once more. Then she was kissing me back, demanding my possession. I gave it to her the same way I would always give her anything—everything.
Our tongues collided in lashing strokes, one part desire, the other punishment. She pitched up, chasing me. Yes, sweet Emilia, chase salvation.
I would erase every thought from her mind until she was begging for me.
I gripped her hips and flipped her over, the silk twisting easily with the movement. She was my perfect little puppet on a string, and I couldn’t wait to put my handprints all over her ass.
As I straddled her thighs, I fought the urge to slide my dick straight inside her. My hands swept over the smooth expanse of her back, her hips, to her thighs. She trembled at the gentle touch, waiting, anticipating. She jumped when I brought my hand down on her ass.
“If you’re hoping for pleasure, you’ll be waiting a while, piccola.”
She and I had some things to hash out. This was about more than just pulling her out of her head.
“Hurt me, Gio,” she almost begged.
I wouldn’t. Not really.
I replayed the look she’d given me a few days ago when my fingers had been wrapped around her throat.
She had wanted the pain, the punishment, and she’d get it, but not for killing her father. No, her offenses were far worse than that… “The night you killed your father—”
She tensed as though just the words sent her spiraling, but I would no longer tiptoe around her. She couldn’t continue in this toxic state of denial. Another slap had the skin on her cheek turning pink, though she didn’t make a sound.
“That night, Jackson found a rat.” Slap. “A rat planted by your uncle to fuck me over.” This time when my hand landed on her, it was harder, and I cautioned myself when she flinched from the blow. “He woke to his call and you gone. I thought you’d betrayed me, Emilia,” I admitted through gritted teeth as I landed the next blow. “That you were working with Sergio and had run back to him.”