She was his prey. He was the predator who’d stalked her for four years, and now he’d caught her, and…
His tongue glided up to her nub, sending her into another involuntary jolt. To her deep, deep shame, this jolt came with a squirming, heated thrill of pleasure, and to her deeper shame came the humiliating notion that she was already swollen for him, that for all her fight, on some sick and twisted level, her treacherous body was revelling in the predator’s touch.
Fingers now biting into her thighs, his throaty growls of appreciation grew as he centred all his attention on her nub.Rhythmic laps of his tongue increased in strength and pressure, and no matter how hard Gabriella tried to fight the sensation, to block it out, to keep herself still and not give him the satisfaction of a reaction, her body continued to betray her. The disconnect she’d fought so desperately for had happened, but it was her body that had won, and now she could feel not just the components of her body dissolving into the pleasure he was giving her, but the whole of her. The world was fading around her, pulling her into a glimmering pool of the most intensely beautiful sensation imaginable. As she melted into it, the pool began to thicken, a coil deep in her core winding tighter and tighter until there was no give left to take and it sprang free, shooting her into the stars on a wave of pleasure beyond anything she’d known existed.
Tommaso’s heart was beating like a jackhammer against his ribs. He swallowed hard and took one more deep inhalation before turning his face away. The tip of his nose brushed Gabriella’s trembling thigh. He gritted his teeth to stop himself from pressing a kiss to it.
When Edoardo had driven him home from the wake, Tommaso had moodily visualised his humiliation of her. He would fire himself with a dose of her hidden scent and taste, and then he would flip her over and fuck her from behind.
Bringing her to a climax had never been a part of it. Sure, bringing Gabriella to multiple orgasms had featured heavily in all the fantasies that had sustained him these past four years, but that had been before he’d learned she was a treacherous rat. Now, her body was for his sole pleasure. Not hers.
He snatched up her discarded dress and hauled himself to his feet. Tossing the dress on her lap, he curtly said, “Cover yourself up.”
Unable to look at her, he crossed the room and poured himself another whisky. He didn’t think there was enough alcohol in the world to fully loosen the knots that had such a tight grip on him or douse the rancid churn in his guts. He necked the drink and poured himself another. Downed that one too. He took the third more slowly, closing his eyes as its warmth trickled down his throat.
When he could finally bring himself to look at her, she was hunched over on the armchair. She’d put her dress back on without rebuttoning it, instead hugging it close around her. Her long chestnut hair covered much of her face, her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. Humiliated shame radiated off her in waves.
It was seeing her shame that finally loosened the knots and killed the churn. Gabriella hated him so much that she’d rather endure his physical attention than suffer the shame of enjoying it. He laughed, the sound making her lift her head and dart her gaze to him. The moment their stares connected, a hot blush stained her neck and cheeks.
Punishment by pleasure. How delicious. He could demean and cheapen her all he wanted, and she would be doubly punished, betrayed by her own body.
He downed the last of his drink and smacked his lips as he placed the empty glass on the bar. “Time for bed.”
At the door, he turned back to her. She hadn’t moved from the armchair. “I said it’s time for bed. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”
She got unsteadily to her feet, holding her dress tight around her. “You didn’t say you wanted me to come to bed with you,” she whispered.
“Ground rule two. Unless you’re told otherwise, where I go, you go. When I sleep, you sleep, and you sleep with me.”
Still not looking at him, her shoulders rose as if she were drawing in a long breath, and then she walked towards him.
He left the room, leaving her to follow him.
Her underwear stuffed in the pocket of her shirtdress, Gabriella tentatively crossed the threshold. If she didn’t already feel sick enough to vomit, one look at Tommaso’s bedroom would have brought her there.
This was no room designed for sleep. With the charcoal walls hung with mirrors and erotic artwork, and a mirrored ceiling, it was designed for having sex in. She’d never seen a bed so big or realised black silk bedsheets really were a thing. Her stomach turned over as she wondered how many women had shared it with him over the years. How many women had shared it with him in one go...?
Her stomach dropped to her feet as it suddenly occurred to her that he might expect her to share this bed with him and others, and she covered her mouth to stop the bile of panic that shot up her throat from exploding out of her. She couldn’t do that. Shecouldn’t.
“Let’s take a shower,” he said, removing his watch and placing it on a bedside table next to a huge box of condoms. In case his meaning wasn’t clear, he caught her stare and, his fingers going to the buttons of his shirt, added, “Together.”
Deftly removing his shirt, he unbuttoned his trousers and, with breathtaking nonchalance, pulled them down with his underwear. Breathtaking because to see him naked took Gabriella’s breath away.
She’d known Tommaso had a good body, would have had to be blind not to recognise that he took good care of himself, but other than in those horrendous dreams she’d had of him over the years, hadn’t allowed herself to imagine it since shewas sixteen and her dying mother had confided the truth about her father’s death. That had been the day Gabriella’s love for the Espositos had twisted into hate. The day her adolescent fantasies about Tommaso Esposito had died.
That she’d never been able to shake her attraction for Tommaso was something she’d spent nine years despising herself for. To look at him was to make her pulses quicken. To see him with another woman was to make hot sickness roil. To see him now, fully naked…
When they’d been in Accardiano for Siena’s wedding, she’d often seen him hanging around the pool in his swim shorts and had always ripped her stare away before any of his semi-nakedness came into focus. She’d been right to do that and only wished she could blur him out now.
His body was better than good. Deeply tanned and muscular, he had a body the Gods would envy. The whispers about him hadn’t been exaggerated, and to her horror, a pulse set off between her legs, a stirring in her veins that danced into her skin, making every part of her tingle.
Her mouth suddenly dry, Gabriella licked her lips, painfully aware her neck was on fire and even more painfully aware that he could see it. “I need to use the toilet,” she croaked.
His eyes narrowed slightly as if he were debating whether or not to allow it before he nodded at a door. “Go ahead.”
She nearly said thank you.
Opening the indicated door, she found herself entering a large, decadent room with the same sensuous colour theme as the bedroom.
