I start a slow dance.
I've taken enough classes over the years so I know what I'm doing, especially as I bring one hand to my neckline, holding the dress in place while I move my hips like a born seductress.
Slowly—ever so slowly—I start releasing the material of the dress bit by bit, the swell of my breasts the first to peek through, before I uncover my nipples, pebbled and as erect as his cock.
I might be playing this game of arousal with him, wanting to drive him mad with lust, but I'm falling prey too. Because I can't not feel an overwhelming desire when he's simply worshipping me with his gaze.
He might control me with his commands, but I control him with how I affect him.
Turning my back to him, I bend down, curving my spine and thrusting my ass towards him as I lower the rest of the gown over my hips.
It's only when the material is bunched up at my feet that I turn.
He's no longer relaxed and leaning on his elbows. His new position is tense as he looks about to bolt from the bed. His features strained, there's a twitch in his jaw as he seems to hold himself together—but barely.
"Take your panties off," he says low in his throat. "Slowly," he commands, and I comply, my fingers grabbing to the edge of the material as I pull them down my legs.
"Good. Good," he praises. "Now get on your knees like the good girl you are," he purrs, his voice doing strange things to my body.
My clit is already tingling and he hasn't even touched me. And as I palm my panties, I know I drenched them, the wetness unmistakable on the inseam.
Dropping to my knees in front of him, I await his next instruction.
"Bring those panties to me, sunshine. On your knees," he rasps, almost impatient.
I comply, moving sensuously towards him and handing him my panties. I bat my lashes at him as I place my hands on his knees, waiting for his reaction.
"Fuck," he curses as he brings them to his nose, inhaling. "You fucking soaked them. That sweet pussy of yours is ready for me, isn't she?"
I can only nod, my tongue peeking out to wet my lips. I clench my thighs as I seek to appease the ache forming inside of me, but the more he speaks, the more I feel even more wetness gush out of my pussy.
"Fuck, Gianna, you creamed all over your panties," he drawls, his eyes closed, "was it my tongue you imagined in your tight little cunt when you drenched these fucking panties?"
I gasp, an intake of breath that alerts him to my heightened arousal.
I feel my juices pooling between my pussy lips and flowing down my thighs, and I don't think I've ever been so turned on in my entire life.
"Come here and sit on my face, sunshine," he growls before swooping me up, his arms around my waist as he drapes me over his body.
"Ride my face and let me taste that fucking cream," he continues, and his language would have made me blush like hell if I weren't already so turned on.
I don't think about our position, or the fact that he's still semi-clothed while I'm completely naked. Climbing up his body, his hands settle on my ass as he brings my pussy right on top of his mouth.
"Fuck, you're killing me Gianna," he speaks against me, his voice sending vibrations to my clit and making my muscles twitch at the sensation. "You're so fucking wet, sunshine," he groans as he presses me down on his open mouth.
His tongue goes right between my folds as he gives me a long lick, a moan escaping my lips as a spear of pleasure goes right through me.
His lips wrapped around my clit, he sucks it into his mouth, the tip of his tongue playing with the small nub until I'm writhing on top of him.
For a moment I feel like I can't continue this. Not when my entire body is close to convulsing.
His hands on my ass, he keeps me firmly in place as he drags his tongue down my slit, sucking and nibbling and kissing my pussy in what can only be described as torture to the senses.
And as he moves lower, he thrusts his tongue into my opening, using it to massage my walls. There's a ticklish feeling shrouded in the most blinding pleasure I've ever known. And as he keeps teasing my entrance, thrusting in and out of me while making out with my pussy, I find that I'm unable to stop myself from coming all over his face.
"That's a good girl," he speaks as he comes out for air, "you like it when I fuck you with my tongue, don't you?"
I'm so gone I can't even answer. But he's not mollified. No, he demands me to answer, promising me more of the same pleasure if I do.
"Yes," I whimper.
"Say it. I want to hear it from your lips."
"I like it when you fuck me with your tongue," I give him the words, feeling him smile against my pussy when I do.
"Good, because I fucking love it when you come all over my face, sunshine," he says just as he gives me another long lick. "I want your cream coating my tongue. Fuck, I want you to drench me in your cum," he blows softly against my sensitive flesh, "so that everyone knows I belong between your legs," he grunts before diving in again, bringing me to the brink again and again until my body goes numb from too much pleasure.
I feel limp as I barely hold myself upright.
"Bass," I moan when he sucks my clit into his mouth, wringing yet another orgasm out of me.
It's only when I almost crash that he finally puts me out of my misery, dragging me down his body for a heated kiss.
I taste myself on his lips, but I find I don't mind it. It only enhances the eroticism of the moment and the fact that just moments ago his tongue was buried in my pussy as he gave me more pleasure than I've ever known in my entire life.
And to my everlasting shock, he once again doesn't ask for anything in return. If anything, he seems content to just hold me in his arms.
"Bass," I whisper his name, my mouth peppering kisses all over his neck as I go lower.
"You don't have to," he stops my hand when I cup him through his pants.
"I want to," I raise my head to gaze at him.
He still has that glazed look on his face, and I want to give him the same pleasure he's given me.
"I want you to come in my mouth too," I tell him, moving slowly down his body while keeping eye contact.
He doesn't protest again, giving me a jerky nod of approval and it's all I need to proceed further.
I reach the band of his pants, dragging it down. He helps me as he quickly divests himself of both his sweats and boxers, his cock springing out and slapping against the hard plane of his stomach. He's so hard and seems to grow even harder under my perusal.
I tentatively wrap my hand around him, once more reminded of his daunting size.
He hisses at my touch, but I promptly realize it's a good hiss.
"That's it, pretty girl," he hums, eyes half closed as I slowly stroke him—up and down.
His skin is soft and warm under my palm, and as I lay between his spread legs, I lower my mouth to lick the head.
"God," he groans out loud. "Give me that mouth, sunshine. Take me into that pretty mouth of yours," he continues to talk as I open my mouth to take him inside, careful to sheathe my teeth so I don't hurt him like last time.
I'm a little clumsy in the beginning as I find what works and what gets the most reactions out of him.
He continues to praise me for every little thing I do right, holding my hair to the side as I kiss and lick him, giving special attention to a spot right under the head that seems to make him go crazy.
"Yes, suck on that cock like the good girl you are," he says on a strangled moan.
His words of encouragement only make me want to try harder—give him the same pleasure he gave me.
And as I further lean in, attempting to take his entire length into my mouth, I hear him curse, his fingers wrapped in my hair as he groans in pleasure.
"Fucking hell, sunshine," he rasps, "take all of me, let me feel the back of that lovely throat," he says as he pushes me down, the tip of his cock hitting the back of my throat and making me gag.
"Fuuuuck," he exclaims.
&nb
sp; And as I look up at him, tears in my eyes from the exertion, I see that he's barely holding himself together. The muscles in his torso are strained and bulging, a vein protruding in his neck and telling me exactly how much I affect him.
"I'm coming," he warns, holding me down until I feel the warm spurts of his cum shoot into my mouth. I swallow every little bit, earning myself a satisfied smile from him.
"You're going to kill me, sunshine," he chuckles as he gathers me in his arms, my pussy resting on his still hard dick.
"I loved this," I confess, "I loved doing this with you," a smile tugs at my lips as I give him a quick kiss.
And it's true. I can't imagine doing this with anyone else.
Anyone but him.
We give in to a passionate kiss that threatens to make me melt, and it soon becomes clear that he's ready for another round.
But no matter how much I try to give myself to his embrace, I realize I'm not ready for the last plunge. I might have gotten comfortable being naked in his arms and sharing intimacies I'd never thought possible, but there is still a small part of me holding back.
I'm not ready.
Will I ever be? The thought that I may never feel ready to give myself fully to him scares me. But somehow I know he won't pressure me. He will let me take the reins and go at my pace. He's already shown more patience than any other man would have.
Just as I contemplate telling him to stop, we're both startled by a loud knock on the door.
"Mr. Bailey?" I quickly look at Bass with wide eyes as I hear Mia's voice. "I tried knocking on Miss Gianna's door, but she's not answering. Considering the circumstances..."
"Shit," I mutter, climbing off him and throwing my robe back on while Bass pulls on his sweats.
"Keep out of sight," he murmurs, kissing the top of my head before going to deal with Mia.
"Yes, Mia," he opens the door slightly, listening to the housekeeper's complaints.
"Maybe she got hungry and she's downstairs?"
"But I just came from there..." she frowns.
"Why don't you check again and I'll go knock on her door. Maybe she's sleeping soundly," he tries to placate her.
Eventually she agrees, after which I quickly sneak back to my room.
And as Mia returns, I open the door, looking sleepy and disheveled and giving her a questioning look.
"I... I'm sorry to bother you, Miss." Mia apologizes and she seems genuine. "Your father asked me to check on you often," she explains, almost embarrassed.
"It's ok, Mia. I understand. Have a good night," I give her a strained smile as I dismiss her, happy at her fortuitous interruption. She'd saved me from having to tell Bass that I wasn't ready to sleep with him yet and from having a painful conversation that is nonetheless unavoidable.
"We need to be more careful," Bass whispers after she leaves. "We can't afford any suspicion while I work on our escape plan."
I nod grimly, reality once more settling in.
Because I have a feeling things are not going to go as smoothly as Bass makes them out to be.
Chapter Fourteen
Time is running out as I do my best to stay under the radar with my inquiries. Not only do I have to bypass Benedicto's notice but also Cisco's. The latter will prove harder, since we share some of the same contacts, and loyalty is not to be taken lightly in the famiglia.
But covering my tracks with every query makes my job even more time-consuming.
And time is something I no longer have.
Not when there's only one week left until Gianna's engagement party.
From the moment she'd woken in the hospital, I hadn't left her side even for a minute. And though Benedicto had insisted she meet with Clark at least once a week, I'd served as a buffer between the two of them, ensuring that Clark doesn't get close to Gianna at all times.
She might be on to something when it comes to him, though. I've seen the way he looks at her. There's a perversion in his gaze that goes beyond mere lust. There's a need to hurt there that makes even my skin crawl.
Fuck, but I'd rather die than let her become a sacrificial lamb for that bastard.
She hasn't gone into the details of what he'd done to her, and I hadn't pushed her for them, but I can see he terrifies her. Hell, it's more than that. At the mere mention of his name she simply closes herself, her features pale, her limbs shaky. That she's managed to last even five minutes in his presence astounds me.
But she's a good actress.
That she is. And she'd definitely seemed entirely unperturbed on the outside, even though I'd known she was probably hyperventilating on the inside.
Picking up our new identities from a jail buddy who dabbles into this stuff, now I only have to figure out the travel arrangements out of the country.
Since both families' connections extend throughout Europe, that is out of the question. I'd made a list of a few countries in South America and Asia that we could move to.
The trickiest part will be moving Michele across the border, since he is still a minor. I'd suggested passing him off as my son, and the new IDs I'd gotten identify Gianna and I as a married couple and Michele as my child.
Still, we won't know how hard it's going to be to leave the country securely until we're at the border. The plan is to head straight to the airport before anyone can sound the alarm and have us chased around.
Satisfied that at least half of the plan has been taken care of, I head back home, swinging by a dealer to get a refill of Gianna's pills.
"You're back early," she notes when I find her in the living room, hanging out with her brother.
She's sitting daintily on the couch, a cup of tea in her hands as she slowly brings it to her lips to take a sip.
The model of decorum.
To say I'm impressed with her poker face would be an understatement. She's truly mastered her disguise over the years, and that only gives me hope that she's going to adapt just fine regardless of the country we end up in.
Besides, she's probably going to charm the socks off everyone she comes into contact with—not that I will like that, and it might make me commit one or two murders. I'd promised her, though, that I'd go easy on the killing to not attract any unwanted attraction towards us.
But how could we truly go under the radar when Gianna only has to step in a crowd, and it immediately parts like the Red Sea, everyone's eyes on her—women or men alike.
Her beauty is something out of this world, and I'd be lying if it didn't make me feel self-conscious at times. Especially when I see people staring at me in disgust and at her in adoration.
What a funny couple we make...
As long as I have her adoration, I don't care. I won't care.
Michele is by her side, a notebook in his hands as he's drawing something.
"Bass," he nods at me as I enter the room, giving me a slight smile.
I hadn't lied to Gianna when I'd told her I liked the kid. He's quiet and he usually minds his own business. Likely because he knows he's not welcomed in anyone else's.
As usual, Cosima and her son are not around, while Benedicto is off getting himself in God knows how many more debts in his attempt to rectify his finances.
That's another thing I'd noticed about Michele and Rafaelo. While their relationship is strained at best, it's not of any fault of their own. Rather, it's Cosima's machinations that create strife between the brothers. And if what she's saying is true, that Benedicto had decided to name Rafaelo his heir, then it would only cause more conflict moving forward.
But it won't.
Not when we're going to be gone from here in less than a few weeks.
Gianna had had a talk with Michele and he understands the importance of leaving as far away for his sister's sake, and he's been nothing but cooperative.
"What are you drawing?" I ask as I take a seat next to them on the couch.
"My sister," a smile pulls at his lips as he turns the drawing slightly towards me.
My eyes widen as I tak
e in the realistic features of the drawing, as well as his unmistakable talent for it.
"Wow," I whistle, meeting Gianna's eyes. "Did you know your brother can do that?"
"Let me see," she scoots closer, leaning forward to look at the drawing.
Her expression mirrors mine as shock is written all over her features.
"Michele," she breathes out in awe, "that... You never told me you could draw like this before. It's spectacular," she praises quietly.
Michele just shrugs.
"I only do it at home. And it's only a hobby, nothing else," he's quick to correct himself.
"No, no," Gianna shakes her head. "You should pursue this. Right, Bass? This isn't just regular art. God, but I have no words," she keeps on staring at the drawing.
Truth to be told, it is exquisite. Even though he's only drawn it in pencil, the details are so vivid it's like seeing Gianna in the flesh. But more than anything, he's captured her beauty in such a way that you can't help but be mesmerized by the sight, a warmth reflected in her features, her eyes full of love, her smile full of optimism.
How Michele sees his sister.
And she notices this too because she dabs the tears from the corner of her eyes before tugging Michele in a hug.
"I'm proud of you. We'll definitely find a way for you to continue to study this."
"No," he frowns, suddenly looking at her confused. "I don't want to. Like I said, it's just a hobby," he disentangles himself from her hold, putting some distance between the two of them.
"But that would be a waste of your talent."
Michele shrugs.
"Why?" I ask, intrigued by his sudden reaction.
His eyebrows shoot up before furrowing in a frown.
"It's not a manly pursuit," he says with conviction.
"And who told you that?"
"Everyone. They said it's for cowards and sissies."
Meeting Gianna's grave expression, she nods at me, getting up and leaving the room.
And I spend the next few hours trying to explain to Michele that drawing and art have nothing to do with cowards, or sissies, or anything.
Pleased when he seems to understand what I'm saying, I can't help but feel that the absence of a father figure has impacted him more than he lets on.
Frivolous: A DARK MAFIA AGE-GAP ROMANCE Page 21