Angelo (The Marchesi Family 2)

I’d been waiting to come for so long, but now I couldn’t get there. Angelo had fucked with my mind until all I thought of was him. I wanted to rip him apart. Finally, I gave in and let my mind go where it wanted. I came so hard I saw fucking stars as I thought about Angelo walking in and catching me, tearing off his belt, putting me over his knees, and using it on my ass.

As soon as I came down from the high of orgasm, I was disgusted with myself. Why would I want that? Enjoying being spanked was one thing, but wanting it from Angelo? This had to end.

He was an asshole. He’d barely even spoken to me. He’d just started ordering me around the moment I came in.

Your agreement doesn’t require niceties.

It didn’t, and I wouldn’t expect them if he hadn’t… If that first night…

You could have apologized like you’d been thinking about all day.

The fucker broke into my house and acted like I was in the wrong for not doing something he’d never even told me to do.

Yet, I’d been just as hot for him as I had been the night before. And no matter how angry we were or how much I resented him using any excuse to piss me off, the sex had been phenomenal—or it would have been if he’d let me come. Phenomenal, but not as good as the first night. The sexual tension that had been simmering between us for thirteen years was there, but we’d turned off all our emotions besides lust and resentment.

I could tell myself all day long that I didn’t want to feel more for him, but something was missing that night. When he’d carried me to bed after he’d nearly fucked me to death the night before, I didn’t feel used. I didn’t feel humiliated or like I was whoring myself out to him.

The way he’d made me feel as he’d wrapped himself around me in bed had scared the fuck out of me, but tonight, I missed it. I wanted someone to talk to about my day and my plans for the bakery. It was better like this, though. Angelo might have more capacity for tenderness than I would have guessed, but he was dangerous. I didn’t need a predator in my life, even if he made me feel safer than I ever had.

I lay in bed for a long time, wondering how my life had gotten so fucked up, before I finally fell asleep. When I woke up the next morning, my phone was missing. Fucking Angelo.

I was getting dressed to go down and use the bakery landline when someone knocked on my door. I looked through the peephole and saw a man holding up my phone. “Angelo sent me,” he said.

I opened the door a crack and thanked him. From what I could tell, my phone was fine, but Angelo had taken it when I’d told him not to. Did he really think returning it this morning was going to pacify me?

As if that wasn’t enough, there was a bodyguard stationed by the bakery’s rear entrance.

“Good morning, Mr. Bellini. I’m Ralph. Angelo sent me. He wants to make sure you’re safe here while you’re working today.”

I wanted to stay angry, but instead, warmth filled my chest. I’d never had anyone to protect me. Angelo was an arrogant asshole, but… No. I couldn’t let myself get comfortable with him and his high-handed version of keeping me safe.

“Thank you, Ralph.”

He nodded, and I went inside. Three months. I just had to keep telling myself I hated Angelo for three months, then I’d be free of him.

The next week passed in a whirlwind of struggling with renovation projects, testing recipes, arguing with Maria about the menu, contacting suppliers, and basically realizing I was in way over my head. I’d known better than to buy into the romantic vision of me peacefully kneading bread or laminating pastry in the back while Maria made cannoli and a neighborhood teen ran the register, serving baked goods to happy customers. Still, I’d way underestimated the work needed to get the place going again. The sheer number of directions I was being pulled in was driving me insane. Several times, I’d nearly called Nick, but I was still too fucking stubborn to give in and hire someone Angelo recommended.

Maybe I would have caved if things with Angelo hadn’t been so fucking infuriating. There’d been no more conversations, no more cuddling in bed, and only the rarest glimpse of the softer side I’d seen of him the first night. He’d shown up, taken out his frustrations on my body, and left. I enjoyed everything he did to me, even if I refused to admit that to Angelo. Every single kinky ass thing. When he’d punished me for coming without permission by bending me over the bed and spanking me harder and longer than he had the first night, then fucked me mercilessly while digging his fingers into my sore ass cheeks, it was better than any sex I’d ever had before him. But I was still left longing for the connection we’d made the first night, no matter how frightened I was of the tender feelings Angelo had stirred in me as he’d held me against him.