“But you didn’t forget. Tell me what’s so important about these frescoes.” His mouth curved in a small smile, indulgent and fascinated. I could talk for hours about everything that worried me, and he would patiently listen to every word, allowing me to work through all of my anxiety so I could finally relax.
I started rattling off all the facts I’d included in my essay, detailing why they were germane to the test question and how I’d defended my thesis statement. While I talked, Marco led me into the kitchen. His hands briefly bracketed my waist, and he lifted me into one of the minimalist white leather chairs at the marble-topped kitchen island. He squeezed once, a silent order without interrupting my babbling: stay.
He stepped around the island and went to the counter between the huge farmhouse sink and massive stainless-steel fridge. A pink cardboard box sat beside the gas range where Marco prepared his delicious meals for us every day.
But he didn’t have cooking in mind right now. He opened the box and presented me with a strawberries and cream cupcake from my favorite bakery.
“You went to Amelie’s?” I asked, pausing my chatter about my essay to eagerly accept the sweet treat. “Thank you!”
“Actually, Joseph picked this up for you,” Marco corrected me.
“Congrats on finishing your test, angel.” Joseph’s incandescent smile hit me square in the chest. He joined us in the kitchen and hopped up on the chair beside me before reaching for the bakery box. He selected his own favorite cupcake—peanut butter cup. “You were talking about Pompeii? We studied that in my Ancient History class last semester. It’s fascinating.”
“Yeah, I’d love to visit one day,” I said dreamily. Pompeii was a first century C.E. Roman city that had been frozen in time when nearby Mount Vesuvius had erupted and buried it in volcanic ash. The pictures I’d seen over the years were incredible, like stepping into another world. The art was almost perfectly preserved in some of the buildings, the frescoes nearly as bright as they were in the year 79. I’d always wanted to see it in person.
Marco grabbed his devil’s food cupcake and brushed a kiss over my cheek. “Then we’ll go visit. We can vacation on the Amalfi Coast and see all the historic sites you want.”
My heart soared. “Really? There’s an amazing history museum in Naples with lots of artifacts from Pompeii. Could we go there, too?”
His corded arm draped over my shoulders, pulling me close. “We can go anywhere you want, princess. Anywhere, anytime.” He nodded at my cupcake, directing me to take a bite. “Now, you were telling me about your test. Go on.”
My men patiently waited for me to finish talking out all my concerns about the answers I’d given in my essays. Marco mostly listened with that intense attentiveness that warmed my chest and made my toes curl, occasionally examining images of the relevant frescoes on his phone. Joseph asked more questions; he was fascinated by almost every subject, and he relished his newfound opportunity to study anything he wanted. Now that he’d escaped from his old, violent life, he was free to pursue an education. His future could be whatever he wanted it to be. He wasn’t sure what that looked like yet, but he was fully exploring every possibility.
Their genuine interest in what I had to say put me at ease more than anything. I never had to be anxious around Joseph and Marco. They believed in me. They loved me. And I loved them so much that my heart ached with the weight of it.
Once I finally ran out of steam, Marco pulled me in for a hug. “Feel better now, babygirl?”
I snuggled into his chest, loving the feel of his strong arms enfolding me. “Yes. Thank you, Daddy.”
“My turn,” Joseph announced, his big hands bracketing my waist. The world spun, and I squeaked in surprise. When the room settled back into place around me, I stared down at the gleaming hardwood floor; Joseph had lifted me over his shoulder and was carrying me out of the kitchen like a caveman.
“Hey!” I twisted in his hold, shocked at the sudden shift from discussing academics to being handled like Joseph’s personal prize.
Stinging pain bloomed deep in my flesh when his hand cracked across my upper thigh. Even through the barrier of my jeans, the blow was hard enough for me to feel the heat of his control. His long fingers kneaded the place he’d hurt, and the burn beneath my skin morphed into delicious heat. It pooled between my legs, making my core throb with need. I moaned and melted into his possessive hold.
My men had helped me release all my anxiety, and now, they would take me to a place of transcendent bliss. The release I found in submitting to their most depraved desires was more addictive than any drug. They’d been rough with me last night, but all the sore places on my body began to pulse with a delicious ache. I craved more of the savage pleasure they offered, more of the harsh demands they imposed upon me.