And slowly, it became clear to Lane, this pain that made her heart hurt in a terribly exquisite way-—
Her body reacted to the knowledge, her breasts swelling under the wired cups of her dress and aching for his touch.
Oh, how so clear it was, and this time she welcomed the pain.
Pain that had wetness gushing out of her like she would never stop wanting him until he came.
Pain so tortuously sweet because now Lane knew this was what being a masochist was all about.
She looked at Angelo, and it was like seeing him in a brand new light, and she wanted to laugh and cry at the twisted beauty of it.
He never had a plan to take any of the women up on their offers.
Never.
Not any of them.
All of this was Angelo’s sadistic way of giving her pleasure.
To taunt her, to hurt her, to make her want to cry, but most of all, because he knew she was what she was—-
A masochist.
He did it to make her wet.
He did it to make her want him.
He did it to make her happy.
She reached for her phone.
When he answered, he said with a sigh, “It took you long enough to figure things out, tesoro.”
She quickly covered her mouth to keep her laughter from escaping.
“I’ve been bored out of my mind flirting with all those women.”
Oh.
“Say something,” he suddenly gritted out, and Lane realized too late that he had misinterpreted her silence. “You’re calling me because you understand, si?” His voice hardened. “Because if you are calling me to say you’re leaving, we must talk and—-”
“No.”
She saw Angelo whiten on the screen.
She swallowed. “I’m calling to ask how long before you can make good on your promise—-”
“Hold that thought.” Angelo cut the call.
Right.
Lane put the phone back on the table and swiveled her seat to face the door, heart thumping hard against her chest. She took deep breaths, but it didn’t help at all. She placed her hands on her thighs, which were still trembling and aching. She was so, so wet. And she wanted him—-
Lane heard the door clicking as someone unlocked it from the other side.
Oh.
My.
Gosh.
And then he was there, her fallen angel, Angelo.
The doorway framing him like he was a sculpture made real, Angelo stood still, the corner of his lips turning up at the way she stared dazedly at him.
Did I just blow you away, his smirk seemed to ask, and of course all she could do was mentally nod. Yes, you totally did.
“Hello, tesoro.”
“H-he-yo.” She couldn’t quite make up her mind if she wanted to say hey or hello, and Lane felt her cheeks heating up when the words ended up jumbled. The corner of Angelo’s lips turned up, and Lane turned even redder.
She watched Angelo quietly close the door behind him, and her heart thumped harder. Having him so close turned her into an aching, bumbling mess, and as she nervously wiped her clammy hands on her thighs, she heard him say in an amused voice, “You can close your legs now, my Lane.”
Oh my gosh, she had totally forgotten about her position!
She quickly drew her legs closed, drowning in embarrassment. God, how she must have looked, with her legs still wide open like she was just—-
Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh—-
And then suddenly, he was there, pulling her up. She instinctively tried to resist, but it was futile, his strength overpowering her.
And we both know you like it that way, a sly voice whispered in her head.
When she was on her feet, Angelo bent down, whispering to her ear, “You went beyond my expectations.”
Aaah. Her toes curled hard at the approval in her voice, and she had the silliest urge to rub her head against his chest like a puppy wanting its master’s affection.
His hand drifted down her back, and she stiffened. It was the softest touch, but oh, how it excited her, and she could barely keep her whimper to herself as his hand settled on the small of her back. Slowly, carefully, like she was as fragile as porcelain, he pulled her close to him, closer and closer until her breasts were pressed against his chest—-
Oh.
Her nipples pebbled against her dress, and she heard Angelo draw his breath at the contact.
“Just one question, tesoro,” he whispered, “before I take you to my bedroom to fuck.”
Eeeeeeh. She squeezed her eyes shut. Did he seriously expect her mind to function when he kept saying the sexiest things? “What kind of question?” she asked nervously. “Because I’m not that good at science and math—-”
His chuckle tickled her ear. “Nothing that complicated. I do want to fuck you, you know.”
Her toes curled harder.
“It’s simple, really.”
Thank God.
“Who is Ray?”
Chapter Fourteen
Anyone could have heard the penny dropping at the strangely tense silence that followed Angelo’s question. Disappointment seared Angelo at the time it took Lane to answer, and his hand slowly dropped from her back.