Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles 2)

Her lips were very soft and the pressure was light, almost nonexistent like our kiss on our wedding day. Resisting the urge to pull her closer and show her how good kissing could feel, I let her be in control. After a moment, she pulled back with a frown, her skin reddening. “This feels odd because you aren’t moving.”

“I wanted to let you be in control.”

“It’s okay if you take the initiative and lead because you know what to do and I don’t, and it’s making me nervous.”

I regarded her, not exactly sure what she needed me to do. “We had me restrained so you’d feel in control.”

“Yes, and that’s okay, but I want you to kiss me as you normally would.”

“Normally, I lead.”

She bit her lip again. Nerves. I reached for her wrist and pressed my thumb against it. She huffed out laughter. “You can lead … I mean, you can lead without being all dominant and rough.”

“I won’t be rough with you, Kiara. And if you ever feel like I’m being too dominant, you tell me and I will adapt my behavior, all right?”

She smiled slightly, but her pulse spiked up anyway. She was very difficult to read. “Can we try again?”

“Of course. I’m going to touch your back.”

Again a spike in her pulse rate. I released her wrist and put my hand on her lower back and began rubbing it lightly with my thumb. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was soft under my touch. She leaned slightly forward until her lips almost touched mine.

Deciding to see if me taking lead would work, I caught her lips with mine, applying more pressure than she had and nudged her lips with my tongue. She parted them without hesitation and I dove in. Her taste and the soft warmth of her mouth went straight to my cock. She submitted to the kiss without hesitation, following my lead.

She yielded so easily to my demands, so readily, I knew she would continue to do so if we moved further, and it made me want to do just that, but I reined myself in.

I widened my strokes on her back, brushing over her spine. She made a small sound in the back of her throat, tightening her hold on my shoulder. Her other hand pressed up against my chest, grazing my nipple, and I kissed her a bit harder.

Moving my free hand up her back, I wanted to cup her head, but the moment I touched her neck and my fingers slid into her dark waves, she jerked back. “No,” she whispered quickly.

I pulled my hand away, seeing the remnants of panic on her face. It wasn’t a touch I’d considered problematic, so her reaction surprised me.

“Your hair?”

She gave a quick nod. “And my neck.” She swallowed. “My uncle … he held me there … He held me down when he forced me to …” She looked at me with despair. I had no trouble reading it on her face, and I didn’t have to touch her wrist to know her pulse was racing because she remembered how her bastard of an uncle had forced her to suck his cock when she was only a child. And once again, I wished I had prolonged his torture. He had suffered thoroughly under mine and Remo’s hands, and yet it didn’t seem enough.

“I understand,” I said.

She shivered helplessly, and then she just fell forward, catching me by surprise as she pressed her face into the crook of my neck and began shaking. I touched her back and her shaking got worse. Then something wet hit my skin. She was crying.

“Kiara?”

She clung to my shoulders and I wrapped my free arm around her. She pressed even harder into me. I let her cry herself out. Maybe it would help her. Pulling back, she kissed me softly, her eyes probing as if she was searching for something. I returned the kiss, tasting her tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment.

“For what?”

“For becoming emotional.” She sighed and closed her eyes briefly. Then she opened them again and nodded toward the cuff. “Where’s the key?”

“Drawer.”

She leaned over me and gave me a look at her round, firm butt. My body definitely reacted strongly to her assets. She unlocked the handcuff. “I think I’m going to take a bath.” I didn’t stop her as she retreated into the bathroom.

Instead, I walked out and headed for our gaming room. Remo was there, sprawled out on the sofa, watching the latest cage fights in Roger’s Arena.

He glanced toward me as I sank down on the armchair, reached for the bottle of bourbon on the table, and poured a glass.

Remo nodded toward my wrist, which had red marks from the metal cuffs. “What happened there? Already getting kinky with your wife?”

“Kiara’s scared of my physical strength, so I cuffed myself to the bed.”