I let my thighs sag apart, and I panted open-mouthed in naked lust for what was about to happen. Would he stroke up my thighs and slip his fingers inside my shorts? Would he grab me and tip me over his knee to spank me with that ruler across my ass?
Every scenario seemed hotter than the next. I couldn’t get enough. I leaned back in the chair and spread my legs wide.
He raised the ruler and brought it down in a cruel smack on my sensitive inner thigh. I screamed, and then the rush of endorphins made me moan. He smacked it down a second time, and I cried out in pain, but it felt like I was crying out in orgasmic ecstasy.
All my hopes crashed to nothing when he put the ruler down and turned back to his computer. He turned it toward himself and started typing. “It’s too late now. If you haven’t learned it by now, drilling won’t help you. You can go.”
He scowled down at something on the screen like he suddenly forgot I was there. Did he really plan to turn me on like that and then just leave me cold? Did he want me at all, or did he just do it to mess with me? Was this his idea of getting revenge for Dominic?
I couldn’t let it go. He turned me on too much, and I needed to fill that need. I didn’t just need to fill it, I needed to fill it withhim.
Did he still love me the way he used to? Or, to put it another way, did he want me in ways he didn’t when we were kids?
I leaned forward and planted my hands on his knees. He felt so masculine and strong, so vital and primal. I dropped on my knees, slid my hands up his thighs, and squeezed. The muscles of his legs tensed under that squeeze, and he jerked around to fix me with a sharp look.
“Do you want me, Dante? Did you like spanking me like that?”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled.
“I loved it when you kissed me at the club.” I stretched a little higher and kissed him.
He responded instantly, and his mouth softened to let my tongue swirl inside. He tasted amazing, and my desire erupted out of control. This man spanked me with a ruler. That turned me on more than I ever imagined possible.
I arched my back to bring my body closer to him. I sneaked my fingertips higher up his thighs until I got to his hips and squeezed again. His pants tightened across his crotch, and his package bulged under his fly. He wanted it.
I eased farther between his legs, trying everything to touch him, to be near him, to rub my body against his. I wanted to feel how strong and male he was under his clothes. I ached for him, and this gnawing hunger only escalated by the minute.
He raised both powerful hands. Was he about to fondle my breasts… or circle my waist… or rub between my legs? I couldn’t stand waiting any longer.
His fingertips grazed my shoulders, and he rocketed out of his chair in a flash. He tore away, pivoted to the side, and walked away. “Don’t fuck with me!”
I wilted onto my knees and looked down at the carpet, totally deflated. Damn. He didn’t want me after all. Did he think I was trying to mess with his head the way I did with Dominic? Didn’t Dante realize how much I really wanted him?
Apparently not. He left, and he didn’t come back. He wouldn’t even drill me on the names and faces I needed to know for the masquerade ball. He wouldn’t come back. This was all just a business transaction to him.
I knelt there in devastated agony for what seemed like a long time. I didn’t want to get up, but when my knees started to ache, I shifted back onto my chair.
I should probably go up to my room and get ready for the ball. I had nothing better to do. The four of us would go back to being stiff and formal with each other. The emotion and connection we used to share as kids would die and never come back.
Maybe that was for the best. They were mobsters. I couldn’t really be part of that. I wasn’t made for it.
What if that was a mistake? I was born in this house. I spent the first five years of my life as a mob princess. What if I never stopped being one?
The guys didn’t treat me like one, and I certainly didn’t act like one since I came here—except for when I actually tried to act like one. That was just an act, though.
What if I really was one? What if being a mob princess was the core of my being?
Did that mean I would marry Luca and have a bunch of little mobsters? God, why was I even thinking that?
A sudden painful stab of love tore my heart apart, but it wasn’t centered on any one man. I loved them all—all three of them. I couldn’t choose between them if I tried.
At that moment, a heavy, warm hand came to rest on my shoulder. I stiffened when it gripped me in a sudden gesture of… was it support… or connection?
My eyes snapped shut, trying to cope with the charge of anguished need for him. I already knew who it was. It could only be one person.
I turned my head, bent over his hand, and pressed my lips to his knuckles. I couldn’t stand the overwhelming love in my heart for him—for all of them. How could I make him understand how I felt about him?
I kissed his hand for all I was worth, and the love in my heart broke me in half. It almost made me cry.