As if my words snapped him back to reality, he stopped licking my pussy. He peeked up at me with those dark blue irises that gutted me every time. His breath on my wet, sensitive skin made my toes curl, and I wanted to scream from all the pressure building within, only for him to deny me an orgasm.
I kicked his chest with my sneaker. “Asshole, I was about to come. Which did you stop?”
He cupped my sex like a savage. “You better remember this belongs to me while I’m gone. Mine, you got that?” He shot up from the chair, his cock so hard it looked like it was about to poke a hole through his pants.
I fixed my panties in place and slid off the table to grab my shorts from the floor. “Why are you acting like a caveman?”
After I pulled my shorts up my thighs, he wrapped his fingers around my neck. He didn’t squeeze as hard as he did last night. But it was still enough pressure to make me gasp as he kissed me like he wanted to consume me.
Our lips separated after a heated battle of wills, our tongues warring against the other. Luca lowered me into his chair, holding my back against his chest.
“Fuck, baby girl. If I’d known you tasted that good, I would have done that a long time ago.”
I elbowed him in the chest and scowled. “I hate you for not letting me come.”
He snaked his arm around me and smiled against my cheek. “I want you to think about me for the rest of the day. Think about how much you want me to finish the job when I get back.”
“I’ll just ask one of your brothers,” I said to piss him off.
His eyes darted across the table at each of them, as if he were issuing a silent warning.
The butler popped his head into the room and cleared his throat. “Mr. Salvatore, Ms. Laveau is here to see you.”
Surprised, my jaw nearly hit the table. “As in Madeline Laveau?”
The famous painter, art restorer, and one of my idols.
“I have to go,” Luca said with a bite to his tone, setting me into the chair beside his. “I don’t want to be late for my appointment with the new director of the Franco Foundation.”
My heart sank to my stomach like an anchor hitting the ocean floor. If Madeline Laveau was the new director, that meant I didn’t get the job.
That fucking bastard.
I should have known all the affection and attention was to distract me. Another trick. A tactic. He rarely touched me, and when he did, he always left me hanging.
As Luca walked into the hallway, I wanted to use his head for target practice. He made me believe I had the job at the foundation. Was anything real with Luca, or was it all a lie?
Sell her dreams.
Give her nightmares.
That was the Salvatore way.
After Luca exited the dining room, Marcello moved to my end of the table. He drank his coffee in silence, so he didn’t interrupt his brothers.
Damian was on a conference call with someone from another country. He spoke an unfamiliar language, while Bastian sat on his right and took notes. They each owned a half of Atlantic Airlines and ran the company together.
Marcello chugged the last of his coffee, then offered me his hand. “I want to show you something. I think you’ll like it.”
I smiled, slipping my fingers between his, and we traveled through the monstrous house until we were standing on the veranda at the back of the estate.
“I’m going to show you something only the Salvatores know about,” he said as we veered toward the center of the property.
“So it’s a secret?”
“Don’t even think about attempting this on your own. It’s dangerous.”
“Danger is my middle name,” I joked.