by Renee Rose
“Are you sure about this?”
“I-I think so.”
He shook his head. “No think so. You’re either all in, or I find some restraint before we take this too far. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t let you go. If you stay in my bed tonight, you belong to me.”
She suspected her parents would take issue with this arrangement, but she couldn’t muster any complaint. She liked the idea of his full attention.
“Capisce?”
“Capito.” She didn’t speak Italian and she only half understood it when her Nonna and the older generation chattered away in it, but many words and phrases had infiltrated her speech.
He looked surprised, as if not expecting her to agree. “Yeah?”
She thrust her hips again. “Yes, sir.”
His cock jerked against her.
“I will take good care of you,” he promised.
He looked so sincere that her belly did a full somersault. Or maybe her entire body did, because she went light-headed. Once again, this was so close to her fantasies, it hurt.
Carlo was a player. A full-blooded Italian man who had a fresh bimbo on his arm every time she saw him. She could not take any promise from him seriously. Not to mention the fact that she doubted her parents would approve. But using him to regain her confidence while on the rebound wasn’t criminal. If what had already transpired between them was any indication, sex with him would be out of this world. So she’d have her rebound fling, and heal her wounds. No harm done. As long as she kept her heart locked up tight.
He lowered his head and kissed her again. This time, his lips were soft. Not quite so demanding. Almost tender.
Her heart squeezed as if he’d tied a string around the middle and pulled too tight.
“So those are my conditions, doll. Do you accept?”
She wriggled under him, still trying to tempt him into more. “I already said I did.”
“I want to be sure you understand. I’ll be keeping my thumb on you. You won’t be going back to that job.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know that, Carlo.”
“You won’t leave this apartment except to go to classes without my permission.”
Her body heated at the idea of being his prisoner. “How do I earn my freedom?”
His feral grin turned wicked. “You’ll have to be a very, very good girl.”
Her nipples and clit throbbed in time together. This was dangerous. More dangerous than her hair-brained idea to take off her clothes at a strip club. But the temptation outweighed the risk. She needed this. Her body needed this. She’d gone too long feeling fat and ugly and completely unappealing.
“I’ll be good,” she whispered.
He pulled off the shirt she’d unbuttoned and shucked the white T-shirt underneath it. His chest rippled with beautiful muscles, making her weak with desire. “Roll over and give me that ass.” He backed off the bed and removed his pants.
More flutters in her belly. What did he mean by that? Was he going to spank her again? Or take her anally? Jesus, she’d never done that before. Despite her qualms, she rolled over.
She heard the sounds of him removing his pants and then the mattress dipped as he rejoined her on the bed. Her bottom and back twitched as she waited for his next move.
The crinkle of foil reached her ears as Carlo opened a condom. “Put your wrists above your head.”
She obeyed and he pinioned them in one large hand. Lying on her tummy with her hands captured, she was completely at his mercy. There’d be no way to control their lovemaking, save lifting her ass for him, which she did.
“God, Summer. You’re fucking beautiful.” He brushed her long hair to one side and laid kisses along her bare shoulder. The flick of his tongue teased her, his warm breath sent shivers of excitement through her.
Heat flushed every part of her body and that was before the head of his cock nudged at her entrance. Her pussy’s entrance, thank God. He didn’t want her ass.
Her juices were so slick that he slid right in. She groaned at the sensation of being filled by him, the bump of the head of his cock on her inner wall. Her body opened to him, more wet and ready than she’d ever been.
He lowered himself on her, separated her wrists and interlaced his fingers over hers. The intimate gesture turbo boosted her heart rate. His breath came hot on her neck and he bit down. The sensation shot her over the edge. Her pussy clamped down on his cock and her back arched. She squeezed his fingers tight as her inner walls contracted with wave after wave of pleasure.
“Responsive little thing, aren’t you?” Carlo sounded amused. He hadn’t come yet, she realized with a stab of guilt. The score was Summer: two orgasms; Carlo: zero. He pulled out and rolled her onto her back. His large palm flattened between her two breasts and dragged down to her tummy.
She sucked her stomach in, not liking anyone to touch her there.
He stopped and frowned. “Are you really pulling in your belly?”
She stared back at him.
“Do you think it’s too big?”
Flushing and hating the direction of the conversation, she looked away.
He gripped her waist with both hands and dropped his head, laying four light kisses across the taut skin. “You have a warped perception of your body, sweetheart. You’re too skinny as it is. I’m going to have to turn Italian grandmother on you and fatten you up.”
She rolled her eyes but his words sent warmth into her chest.
He kissed the hollow of her throat, licked down to her nipple, which he took between his teeth. He nipped it, then licked away the pain with his tongue. “Open those perfect thighs for me.”
Her legs parted of their own accord. It seemed she was incapable of refusing Carlo anything.
He sank into her, rocking his pelvis with slow, deep thrusts. “Play with your nipples.”
Excuse me?
Her doubt must have shown on her face, because he said, “You heard me, bambina. Pinch them.”
Her pussy contracted around his length. She brought her hands to cup her own breasts. It felt dirty and self-indulgent but the fact that Carlo had not only given her permission, but had commanded it, made it okay. She squeezed her own nipples between her thumbs and the sides of her index fingers.
“Harder.”
Her eyebrows shot up to her forehead.
He plowed into her with so much force her head slid close to the headboard. He braced her shoulders and slammed in hard again. “I said, harder.”
She caught her breath, holding back the orgasm that screamed just around the corner, ignited by his dominance, his harsh command. She pinched her nipples and squeezed hard, pulling them out and gasping.
“God, you’re sweet.” His voice sounded rough.
She squeezed her nipples again.
Carlo somehow sensed she was about to come, because he growled, “Not. Yet.”
Her eyes widened and she stared up at him, slightly chastised, waiting for his next command.
He slammed into her, speaking on each punishing thrust, “You’ll... wait... until... I... give you... permission... to come. Got it?”
She clutched the sheets, her fingers twisting in them like claws. Holding off her orgasm seemed like an impossibility, but he held her, trapped in his burning gaze as he pounded into her.
“Now.” He thrust into the hilt and stayed there. Even through the condom, she swore she felt his hot cum spill.
A shudder went through her entire body. Her vaginal muscles spasmed, inner thighs clenched, lifting the arches of her feet. Carlo had literally made her toes curl. Every part of her continued to tremble as the aftershocks ran through her. Her head swam, eyes lost focus.
She collapsed on the bed, thoroughly used, limp with release.
* * *
Gesu. He’d never expected her to be so incredibly responsive. Hot and so damn sweet. A natural submissive. He must have known on some level, because he’d been attracted to her from the start, and dominating was his kink. But Su
mmer was full of life, full of fire. She’d never given him the time of day, other than breezy pleasantries. He would’ve thought she’d be hard to get, that winning her submission would be the job of a lifetime.
But here she lay, obedient and tame, in his bed. The cool, aloof little vixen he’d imagined would take elaborate courting had already surrendered wholly to him without so much as a date.
He eased out of her and disposed of the condom. When he returned, he pulled the covers out from underneath her and flicked them across her body, then settled beside her. She rolled into him, her small hand on his chest.
He stroked her hair, ran his knuckles along her cheek. So beautiful. So
perfect. And so not his.
Instead of minimizing the damage he’d already done, he’d made a deal to keep her here, with him.
How would he explain this to Don Al? I hope you don’t mind, but I captured your daughter and I’m keeping her prisoner to be my own personal sex slave.
Yep. He was fucked. Al had become like a father to him. He respected the hell out of the boss, and would never do anything to jeopardize his position in the organization.
Or so he’d thought.
But Summer had just turned his world on end, and no matter how he tried to shake out the situation, there was no way he could see out of this. He wasn’t going to send her away, not when she’d just given herself to him.
He was still an asshole for being the guy who took advantage of her when she was down. But at least he was the only asshole. He wouldn’t let her get hurt. Hopefully he’d be able to show her her worth. Maybe in the meantime he’d track down that ex of hers and shove his balls up his ass.
* * *
She was in high school, wearing her Catholic school uniform. John was there, flirting with her friends, teasing them by lifting up their skirts and slapping their asses. He turned to her with a frown. “Your skirt is too long. Why don’t you wear it short, like theirs?” He jerked his thumb at her friends.
She unbuttoned the top button of her white blouse, trying to look sexier.
John folded his arms across his chest, looking at her critically. “One breast is larger than the other.”
Her hands flew to her breasts and she cupped them, squeezing her own nipples.
“What are you doing?” His face screwed up with contempt.
She dropped her hands, shame flooding her. “Nothing... .nothing.”
Summer shook herself awake. Ugh. That sick sensation that had been in her belly for the past five months had returned in full force. Actually that ickiness had probably been there for the past two years.
Well, fuck John. She never would’ve been good enough for him. His loss.
She looked down at Carlo and his glory of hard muscle and uncompromising lines, his masculine power no less potent in sleep. Just the sight of him made her ache. Could a man like him be captured? She doubted it. The way he handled her last night and the week before told her he had a thousand times more experience in bed than she did. And you only get that way with a lot of variety. Of course, John had had a lot of variety and still never got her off. All this time she’d thought she was defective. He’d made her feel that way.
No one makes you feel. That’s what her best friend Maggie, with her master’s degree in psychology, would say.
She slipped out of bed, taking an inventory of her body. Sore in all the right places. She slipped on the dress from the night before and found one of Carlo’s T-shirts in a drawer.
He rolled over at the sound and mumbled something in Italian that had the word bambina in it. He looked contented. She sure as hell hoped he was dreaming about her and not some other “baby” he usually had for a sleepover.
Pulling his T-shirt on over last night’s dress and tying a knot at her waist so she didn’t look obscene, she slipped on her strappy heels. Not the best walking shoes, but she could really use a latte.
She grabbed her purse, fishing out her phone. Maggie had texted her. They usually had coffee together on Saturday mornings, so her friend may have already knocked on her apartment door, and might be worried when she didn’t answer. She hit the call button next to Maggie’s name as she slipped out the door.
“Hey, girl, how’s it going?”
She stepped in the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. “You’ll never believe it. Well, you might.” She hadn’t told her friend about the first time with Carlo, but now—if his bedroom talk of last night could be believed—things were going to continue.
“What?”
“Well, I know you warned me something like this might happen.” The elevator door opened and she walked outside, heading down the sidewalk. The Starbucks locator on her phone showed one just a couple blocks away. Her foot didn’t love the walk but sometimes caffeine required sacrifice.
“Oh no, what?”
“No, no, it’s not that bad. Last week Carlo showed up at The Candy Store when I was working. You remember, my dad’s..um, employee?” She was pretty sure Maggie understood what kind of biz her father was in, but the two of them had a tacit unspoken agreement not to talk about it.
“Oh crap.”
“Yeah. He pretty much hauled me out by my ear.”
“Are you serious?”
“Mm, no, not literally. But pretty close.”
“So what happened?”
Her face heated. There was no way in hell she was going to tell Maggie that Carlo took her home and whipped her with his belt. Her bottom clenched at the memory, the original shame now replaced by thrills of excitement. “So, um, he took me home.”
Maggie must’ve caught the awkwardness in her tone because she leaped on it. “Wait, wait, wait—are you telling me something happened?”
Her naughty parts tingled with the memory of the way Carlo had pleasured her. “Yeah.”
“Wait a second.” Maggie sounded mad. “He hauled you out of The Candy Store and then brought you home and had sex with you? What the hell? Because he assumed you were a slut just because you were dancing?”
She stopped walking, annoyed. “No, he didn’t bring me home to have sex. He brought me home—well, to... talk,” she improvised. “And we didn’t have sex. We just fooled around a little. After we talked.” Yeah, you could call it a form of talking. His belt spoke to her ass, loud and clear.
She started walking again as Maggie digested that.
“So, was it good?”
“Yeah. Really good. Amazing, actually. And then we, um, hooked up again last night. I spent the night at his place.”
“O.M.G. Are you serious?”
She giggled. “Yep.”
“And? Are you there now?”
“Yeah. Well, I’m walking to get coffee, but yeah. He said he wants me to stay with him for a while. I guess he thinks I need to get my shit together and he wants to help.”
“Well, I agree with him. But what’s his motivation? Did your dad put him up to this?”
Her throat tightened. She’d had the same thought originally, but Carlo had sworn he wasn’t just doing it for her dad. “Uh, no. I don’t think my dad would approve, actually. I’m not sure what his motivation is. I guess it’s more sex. Which I’m totally up for.”
“Summer—” Maggie’s voice held reproof.
“What? You’re the one who told me I need to have a rebound fling. So this is my fling.”
“ Listen... this sounds too intense. Staying with him? That’s not rebound sex. That’s entering into a new relationship way too soon.”
“It’s not a relationship. Believe me, I know better than to imagine this is going to be anything permanent. But Maggie, the sex was good. Really good. I mean out of this world good. And he’s not going to let me go back to stripping. So I need this.”
“You’re claiming more sex therapy?”
She grinned. “Yeah.”
“Girl, you’re nuts.” She heard the resignation in Maggie’s voice. Her plan had been accepted.
“Well, I’m not even sure it wi
ll happen. It might have just been the heat of the moment. I guess I’ll see when I get back.”
“Okay, well, keep me posted either way.”
Summer promised she would and hung up. Entering the coffee shop, she ordered a macchiato for Carlo and a latte for herself.
I’ll take good care of you.
The need those words produced in her gave flight to kites of longing, tethered to her heart.
Had he meant it? Carlo was the type who would take very good care of a woman. Efficient and capable, he took care of everyone in her family, from her parents to her little brothers and sister, to her Nonna and all the other elders who adored him just because he came from the Old World.
But was he playing for keeps? Or just playing?
* * *
When he woke up, Summer was gone. He’d heard her moving around, but had been so relaxed, still blissed out from the sex the night before he hadn’t wanted to wake up. He hadn’t expected her to leave.
He pulled on a pair of jeans and looked around. Her purse wasn’t on the chair where it had been the night before. He walked through the apartment. No Summer, no note. Where in the hell had she gone? His keys were still on the counter, so she hadn’t taken off in his car. She might have called her friend Maggie for a ride.
He looked at his watch. Nine fifteen. And he’d made a date with Gio at 10:00. He could reschedule, but the Gio situation was important.
The door pushed open and Summer slipped in, holding two paper cups from Starbucks. Relief coursed through him.
He pulled a stern expression. “What did I tell you last night about leaving this apartment?”
She made a face. “I just ran down to Starbucks.” She held out a cup. “This is for you.”
“Thank you.” He accepted the hot drink but set it down on the table without tasting it. “What did I say would happen if you broke the rules?”
A lovely blush colored her cheeks. “Come on, Carlo. Don’t be a hard-ass.” Despite the protest, she took a few steps closer to him. Damn, her obedience turned him on.