I look up at him through lust-filled eyes, wishing he’d just fuck me already. I need this.
“Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to do something about it?”
A dangerous smirk crosses his face, his eyes darkening, and he pinches my nipple, hard. I hiss through my teeth at the pain before he slides his fingers out of my pussy and rubs at my clit.
“Like this?” he growls.
“Fuck, yes. Just like that.” I’m panting as he alternates from my clit to pushing his fingers back inside me, still pinching at my nipple and keeping eye contact with me.
An orgasm is building, and I’m so fucking close. Nobody has been quite this rough with my nipples before, and it’s apparently my kryptonite. I’m on the cusp, that delicious tingling in my gut growing, until it stops.
What the fuck?
Marco places his hands to either side of me on the desk, pressing his face close to mine.
“What did I say about your language, Dolcezza?”
Oh no, he better not be stopping now.
“Oh come on, that surely can’t count?”
He grins, and it can only be described as feral as he sniffs at my neck before whispering in my ear.
“Oh but it can, Tesoro. You smell so good, all wet and needy for me, but I warned you.” As he speaks, he’s slowly pulling my dress back up my arms, onto my shoulders and covering my nipples. “Luca has prepared a dinner. Let’s go eat, then I will show you to our room. Don’t get any ideas, though. I have work to do, so you’ll be sleeping alone tonight, wondering if I’ll come to bed and finish what I just started.”
Taking my earlobe in his mouth, he bites down before sucking it, then stands, adjusting his huge cock screaming to get out of his pants. He pushes my legs back together, slowly, before walking over to the door and opening it, waiting for me to follow like a good little girl.
Fucking asshole.
CHAPTER TEN
MARCO
“Here.” Without looking at Enzo, I take his offered glass of Louis XIII cognac. At almost five thousand dollars a bottle, not a drop is wasted anywhere but on the tongue.
“Grazie.”
“Salute.” Our sentiment is announced in unison, our eyes locked as per tradition, but my mind is upstairs in another room, with another guest in my home.
As I take a sip, I let the floral and candied fruit aromas take over my pallet, diffusing—little by little—the spices and ginger with a healthy dose of honey. But the best cognac in the world can’t compare to the unique, heady, taste of River Fox. Just one taste and I’m already fucking addicted.
“No offense, but—” I cut him off right there. This discussion is getting old and my patience is wearing thin.
“Nothing good ever comes after that introduction, Enzo. Unless you want to live with the fish in the Hudson, I suggest you reel in your criticism.” Sitting comfortably on my grandfather’s favorite leather seat I had shipped from Gaeta, I let the warmth from the fireplace ease my tightly coiled muscles.
“All I’m saying, Marco, is that it’s gonna be real fucking hard to go legit if you’re chasing her demons all around The City.” With my eyes fixed on the dancing flames, I slowly bring my glass to my lips and inhale the rich aroma.
“Don’t worry about me.” Forcing myself to slide my gaze from the fire to Enzo, I sit up—my elbows resting on my knees—and cradle my glass in the palm of my hand. “Did you do what I asked?”
“Not yet, but I’m close.” The evil smile I feel curving up my lips reminds me that I’m a Mancini and using violence to avenge those in my inner circle is like oxygen to my lungs.
“Good. Like I said on the phone, I want him on his knees.”
“Bene.” Enzo’s right leg starts to shake up and down like he’s nervous, except I’ve known him my entire life and I know he’s trying to reel himself in before losing his composure.
“Just fucking say it, Enzo. Christ, you’re making this cognac turn sour.” I’d never hurt him, we both know this, unless he betrayed me—which he’d never do—but fucking hell, this conversation has run its course and I’m tired of explaining myself.
“Why are you so hung up on her?”