Hooking his hands under her armpits, he lifted her. With a squeal of surprise, she wrapped her legs around his waist for balance and he carried her from the bathroom. He tossed her onto the bed and covered her body with his own, capturing her lips in a deep, hungry kiss.
“I don’t give ‘little’ orgasms. Ever,” he growled, nipping at her bottom lip.
“Please,” she begged, her need pushing her past the point of being embarrassed by it. “I’m dying.”
“You aren’t dying. You’re learning a lesson. Trust me, it isn’t exactly easy for me, either.”
“It isn’t?”
“Not at all.” He moved his hand between them and slid a finger into her soaking pussy. “I haven’t had you here, yet.” Sure, talented fingers stroked and teased her, ratcheting up the tension in her core. “I want nothing more right now than to bury myself in your tight little pussy and fuck us both brainless.”
So close. All it would take was just a few clever flicks of his thumb over her clit and she’d be over the edge and soaring into oblivion. “Then do it. Please.”
“No. I want us both to enjoy our first time truly joined together. If I fuck you now, you won’t be allowed to enjoy yourself as much as I would like.” He pulled his fingers from her and held them up to her lips. “You’ll wait until Daddy says you can come. Clean Daddy’s fingers like a good little girl.”
Face burning with humiliation, she took his fingers into her mouth, sucking and licking her juices from the slender digits.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Now,” he rolled off of her and pulled her up into a sitting position beside him, “what would you like to do with the rest of our afternoon?”
“Could we play a game?” There was a stack of board games and card games in the cabinet beside the dollhouse that she’d discovered while she was cleaning up.
“Of course. Let’s get you dressed and you can pick out a game.”
The purple dress from that morning had been sent to the laundry, so she was forced into another pink ball of fluff. “What is it with you and pink?” she asked, wrinkling her nose at the cotton-candy-esque skirt swirling around her thighs.
“Daddies can’t help it. Little girls look so adorable in pink.” Grinning, he cupped her bottom cheeks and squeezed. “Though I must admit I do love the way you look in red, as well.”
“I believe I would like my wardrobe to be entirely black, then,” she retorted with a dainty sniff.
“Your wardrobe,piccolina?” he asked softly.
She hadn’t even realized she’d started thinking in such permanent terms. Perhaps her heart already realized what her brain so steadfastly refused to accept: she was his. She had been for as long as she could remember.
But she wasn’t quite ready to admit it to him, just yet. Not least of all due to the giant, deadly secret hanging over their heads. “If I were to stay, I mean. Then I would want my wardrobe to be black.”
“You’re staying. You can take as long as you need to accept it, but I won’t leave you without protection.”
Confused, she frowned up at him. “I have Uncle Gio’s protection.”
Something unreadable flickered in his eyes a moment before they went flat and empty. “Go pick out a game,piccolina. There will be plenty of time to discuss our future tomorrow.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Why would I need your protection?”
“We can discuss this tomorrow,” he repeated firmly.
Standing her ground, she crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her chin defiantly. “No, we are going to discuss this now. I’m not a child, despite your insistence on treating me like one. I deserve to know the truth and I deserve to know it now.”
The struggle played out clearly on his face before he sighed. “All right. Sit. This won’t be easy to hear.”
It grated that he would still be ordering her around in the midst of something this serious, but she did as she was told and perched on the edge of the bed with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Being dressed like a five-year-old didn’t mean she had to shed her manners.
In front of her, Emilio paced the length of the room. “Gio isn’t the man you think he is.”
“What are you trying to say?” she asked, impatient with his tap-dancing around whatever it was he didn’t want to tell her.
“He hasn’t been taking out people he has a moral issue with.” Stopping in front of her, he crouched and took her hands in his. His eyes were cold and hard, but in them she saw a hint of grief that sent butterflies dancing in her tummy. “He’s been taking out the competition, Amara. For the past few years, he’s been slowly setting himself up to be the main source of sex slaves for the Northeast.”
“You’re lying.” The words were barely a whisper. “You’re lying,” she repeated, stronger and louder this time. “Uncle Gio would never. He despises the sex trade.”