“You do realize I didn’t need to transfer a single penny. I could have torn off your clothes, splayed you on that table, and fucked you without fulfilling any promise. Do you think anyone would come if you screamed?”
No.I don’t think that.
“I did my part. Now it’s your turn,” he purrs, stepping toward me.
I’m shaking, inside and out. But he’s right. He did as I asked—and he was more generous than I expected. With what I already have in the bank, five thousand dollars will get them through at least a couple of months. That should give me enough time to get back to the US.
This was my idea, and I won’t risk having him take the money back.
It’s just sex, Daniela. You don’t have to give him your soul.
While I’m giving myself a pep talk, he cradles my cheek in his hand. “I’m going to punish you for trying to manipulate me,” he murmurs, inches from my head.
I shiver at the threat.
“I have a lifetime to use your body. I’m not going to fuck you tonight.”
A small whimper escapes. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice raw and hoarse. Not that I should have to thank him for respecting my boundaries, but I made a deal. And I would do it again.
“You’re maddening,” Antonio murmurs, “but exquisite.” He drags a finger around the curve of my ear to my collarbone. “Your skin is so soft.” He lowers his head and drops a kiss on my throat. “And it smells delicious.”
I close my eyes, squeezing them tight. Not because I’m afraid, but because I’m so conflicted.
Antonio brushes a gentle hand over my hair before sweeping his arm across the table, shoving the dishes and utensils to one side. A cup teeters before toppling over the edge, spilling black coffee on the antique rug. But he doesn’t seem to notice as he lifts me onto the table and nudges my knees apart.
“I won’t fuck you tonight. You have my word,” Antonio promises, standing between my legs. “As much as I’d like to,” he mutters under his breath.
A sense of relief washes over me as my inner thighs press against the outer edges of his. I don’t know why I believe him, but I do.
He lowers his gaze, following his fingertips as they trace the bruise blooming on my arm. The mark he put there. “Does it still hurt?”
“No.”
“That will never happen again. You’re not a punching bag. I’ll never lay my hands on you unless I’m firmly in control of my emotions. You have my word on that too.”
It falls short of an apology, but I suspect it’s more than most people get from him. In a strange way, I believe this too. At least I want to believe it.
Antonio lifts my chin and sweeps his mouth over mine. “You’re mostly safe with me.”
Mostly.
His kisses move from gentle to rough and insistent, and I feel my hands clutch his shoulders, my fingers sinking into the tight muscle.
My reserve melts away, slowly at first, until the heat between us eviscerates every good instinct standing between me and ruin.
In my mind, my conscience bites.I should listen. I know that everything about this is wrong and that I shouldn’t enjoy it so much. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am a whore. But as my tongue slides against his, I don’t care.
Isabel and Valentina are taken care of, for now. Tomorrow, I’ll plan an escape.
Tonight, I’m going to forget he’s holding me captive. I’m going to forget that his family tortured my mother and slit her throat. Tonight, I’m going to focus on the boy I fell in love with before everything went to hell. I’m going to enjoy his hands and his mouth. His kisses. I’m going to enjoy all of it.God forgive me.
He draws back, dipping his finger into a glass of Port. His eyes darken as he paints my lips with the ruby wine in the same way I might apply a stain. Although his finger is thicker than mine, stronger, and he’s not careful to stay within the lines. But still, not even a swipe of Chanel gloss could make me feel this beautiful—this alluring.
When he’s done, he sucks every sweet drop from my mouth. He’s thorough and meticulous, and I’m panting softly, small gasps slipping out into the thick air.
He inches closer, reaching behind me for a bottle and refilling the glass. As he moves, my skirt hikes up, and my legs edge farther apart. When I tug at the hem, he pushes my hand away.
“This isn’t the time for modesty. Let the cool air lick your pussy. It’s overheated, isn’t it?”