I cautiously brought the strings to my neck where he raised my hair enough for me to tie a knot right below his grip.
Before I could adjust the triangles of fabric, one of his hands trailed down the string on my neck. The other dragged over my breast, his thumb rubbing over my tattoo, his fingers curling around its curve. The thin fabric was no barrier.
He squeezed and rolled me in his hand forcing a gasp from me before my hand flew to my mouth.
No. He didn’t get to pull a reaction out of me. He didn’t deserve that and yet my body was already giving in.
“Why can’t you just work with me, huh?” His question came out like he was far away. “Why goad me with other men when you know you only have to be good for a few more months?”
His hand slid down my stomach, following the trail I’d made. The slick oil was warmer now, heated by the sun or by my body reacting to the beautiful man holding me hostage on that beach. It didn’t take any more from him to have me arching into this touch too.
I’d been without for so long. I’d dreamt of his touch, burned for it. I’d beg for it at this point. Even if I knew it wasn’t healthy, we’d end up crashing down in a destroyed city after.
The tsunami of us was growing and swelling, becoming a monstrosity.
Fingers at the edge of my bikini bottoms, he nipped my ear. “Should I make you plead with me in front of them all? Is that what you really want? To get what you’re dying for in front of all these people?”
“Bastian,” I whispered and shook my head. “It’s a public event.”
“Where you took your top off, right?”
This was my punishment. This was him showing his power. He might have had a hold on the whole world in one way or another but his hold on me was sexual, was a bond of possession and possessor. He wanted me to understand respect, to understand that right now I was his.
I squirmed when his pinky dipped under the fabric.
“You wouldn’t,” I hissed.
The smile that spread across his face was vicious.
His hand dove into my bikini bottoms. I don’t know who was watching. Most everyone was behind him a little ways off where the gold women posed and the alcohol was being served.
Still, anyone could have walked over.
Formal Bastian had gone though. And the woman who would have thought better of riding a man’s hand in public, well, she wasn’t here either.
I bit my lip and arched as his finger slid in.
A tsunami always started small. The shift in water, quick. This was his earthquake and he intended to make me feel it. He was on top of the tsunami and I was below, staring up in awe at the man inside the business suit. He ruled all of us, and he ruled me too.
“Willing to take it anywhere,piccola ragazza. I should tie you up and keep you locked away.”
“If only you could, right?” I moaned and gripped his wrist as I gasped and took what I wanted fast.
He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Say your husband’s name when you moan,piccola ragazza. Tell them all who gives you pleasure you can’t bear to wait for.”
I stared at him as he slid another finger in and curled them as his thumb rubbed over my clit. I gasped out, “Sebastian Armanelli.”
“Til death do us part.” He murmured and I didn’t correct him.
32
Bastian
Elizabeth shouldn’t have been on my arm but Morina took it too far.
Fuck.
I still wanted to drag her across that party and scream she was mine to each and every person who looked her way.