“I can walk!” she protested indignantly. “Anyway, it’syourfault. You made me drink those shots.”
He raised an eyebrow, arms folding over his chest in an unimpressed fashion. “I didn’t make you drink anything. I thought you could handle your drink.”
“I might have had a few of Claudia’s and mistress-lady’s,” she admitted in conspiratorial fashion before lifting her head. “When are you going to get yourself a mistress?”
His eyebrow rose even higher. “Youwantme to have one?”
But her thoughts had already scattered elsewhere. “You were going to take me upstairs to have sex with me, weren’t you.” She cackled another laugh. “I’ve heard about those rooms. I bet you’ve had sex with loads of women up there.”
His phone vibrated. He glanced at it. “Edoardo’s here. Can you walk or do I need to carry you?”
She couldn’t even stand. It seemed to take no effort for Tommaso to lift her into his arms. “You’re very strong, aren’t you,” she said as he opened a fire door and walked her into the cool night air. She didnotlike the chill on her skin, and suddenly she remembered her wrap. “We’ve got to go back! I’ve left my wrap behind!”
“I’ll get you a new one.”
“But I’ll be cold!” She nuzzled her cheek against his chest. She had a vague awareness that she was being carried down iron stairs. “You can keep me warm.”
“Can I?”
She laughed at the wryness in his voice. “Youcan. Just think, we must look so romantic like this, with you carrying me to the car.”
“Do you always talk so much when you’re drunk?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never been this drunk before.”
“Never?”
“Not like this. It was all those shots. I don’t normally mix my drinks, but it’sfun, isn’t it!”
“You won’t be saying that in the morning.”
They reached the bottom of the stairs, passing Gino, who was outside talking to a couple of men. As drunk as she was, even glancing eyes with him made Gabriella’s skin crawl. He was as tall and as good-looking as Tommaso and had a reputation with women to rival his, but there was something about him that made her feel like she needed to disinfect her insides.
The thought came to her that if Gino had offered the choice Tommaso had, she’d have opted for death. If it had been anyone else but Tommaso, she’d have chosen death.
She reallywasdrunk!
Edoardo opened the back door for them. Gabriella’s stomach dipped as she was lowered onto the back seat. Tommaso ducked in through the other door. He’d barely settled himself in before she scooted over and somehow managed to manoeuvre her legs into straddling his lap. “Do you still want to have sex with me?” she asked, grinding herself down on his confined length.
“I always want to have sex with you.”
She palmed his gorgeous, bearded face and breathed, “Shall we have sex now?” The back of the car was completely concealedfrom the front. There was no danger of them being seen or heard by Edoardo.
She must be more drunk than she’d realised because her lips were begging her to kiss him, to reallykiss him. She’d never kissed a man with a beard before. But then, she’d not kissed many men at all. Only one.
“A tempting proposition, but I’m not in the habit of taking advantage of women who won’t remember it in the morning.”
That struck her as hilarious. “But I’m your possession, remember?” She slipped her hand down his chest and cupped between his legs. His shaft was as hard as rock. “I’m a toy to be used and abused whenever and wherever you feel like it…. Don’t be angry,” she added earnestly when his jaw clenched, “I’m just stating the truth. You let me live so I could be your sex slave, and then when you get bored of me, you’ll probably stick me in your dungeon…” Another thought popped into her head. “Those parties Gino mentioned…does that mean the stories about your father’s sex parties were true?” She’d heard whispers about them, but there was no way she could have asked if they were true. Who could she have asked? Lorenzo’s daughter? His wife? And what would she have said? ‘Is it true that your father/husband hosts high-class orgies?’
He gripped the wrist of the hand stroking his cock and moved it away. “Yes.”
Placing both her hands on his shoulder, she asked, “Did you ever attend any of them?”
All playfulness in his eyes had gone. “Are you seriously asking if I ever went to one of my father’s orgies?”
“Did you?”
“I love a good orgy as much as the next man,” he drawled, “but one where a member of my blood family is in attendance and having sex? No thanks.” His eyes suddenly narrowed. “What about you? Did you attend any of them?”
