“It will until I release the tension.” I can think of a much better way to release her tension. My hands skate down her back and slip under her tee.
“Wha…what are you doing?” She doesn’t jump away, which tells me she wants this.
“Releasing some tension.”
The dog grumbles irritably at me when I press my body against her back, my hands on her stomach, but I ignore it.
Chiara’s skin is warm and soft to my touch. She has curves where I’m all hard lines. Since living here, she’s filled out some, and she looks better for it.
I prefer my women with curves, and Chiara has plenty of those.
“This feels like the sort of massage that comes with a happy ending,” she jokes while leaning back into me.
“Relax, kitten. I can still feel how tense you are. Unless you relax, you won’t sleep.”
“That’s why I came down for chamomile tea.”
“I can stop?” My fingers trace a line above the waistband of her shorts. She could push me back if she wanted. Or practice any of the moves I’ve taught her, but she does neither of those things.
A small huff of annoyance escapes, and she rubs her ass against me in an unspoken invitation—an invitation my cock receives loud and clear. The dog moves away and settles on the rug by the fireplace.
“My back aches,” she admits. “I probably have whiplash. Know any personal injury lawyers?”
“Nope.” I pick her up easily and carry her over to the small sofa by the window. Even though there’s only one lamp on in here, the guards stationed outside can still see in if they care to look, so I pull the blinds down. None of them would dare go against me, but I don’t want them to witness what I’m about to do. Luka might get off on being an exhibitionist, but I don’t.
I place her on the sofa and kneel between her legs. She stares down at me in confusion.
“Um, I thought you were giving me a massage?”
“I am.” I pull her shorts off. She squeaks in outrage, but instead of kicking me in the face, she waits to see what I have planned. The panties she wears barely cover anything. They’re nothing but a tiny scrap of lace and silk. Definitely not anything Fina left for her, so Luka must have bought them.
The little shit loves to get one over on Angelo, and knowing Chiara is wearing underwear he’s chosen for her will do that. I bet Angelo has no fucking clue.
“Did your husband buy you these panties?” I ask in a stern voice. The smirk she throws me confirms what I suspect.
“Naughty girl,” I tut.
“Would Angelo prefer I wore no panties at all?”
“No, but I would.”
47
Chiara
What the actual fuck am I doing? Coco looks at me like she thinks I’ve lost my mind. She’s right, I must have.
Kane is Angelo’s best friend. His right-hand man. The guy who kidnapped me from a shitty parking lot and stuck a needle in my neck. The sort of red flag man I need to kick in the nuts before running away fast.
Only I’m glued to the sofa with him between my legs. Sure, he’s on his knees like a submissive little slave, but we both know he has all the power here.
I can barely breathe because I’m so turned on. And he’s right. The lilac silk panties I’m wearingwerea gift from Luka. He sent a gift box of underwear from Coco de Mer. Even I’ve heard of that brand, and I’m more of a Target girl these days.
It’s possible he’s a brand ambassador for them, but I doubt it. The note in the box said he was looking forward to seeing me model each item. I contemplated throwing the box into one of the many empty rooms in this mansion, seeing as how I haven’t seen the fucker since he left for Paris, but the scraps of lace and silk were just too pretty.
Not going to lie; pretty things make me happy.
Like Luka does when I’m not picturing him with other women.
