I tie her wrists with a silk scarf from my pocket and bend her over a wrought-iron bench. I tease her with my fingers first, scissoring inside her pussy, then replace them with my cock, slow thrusts building to a frenzy.
"Beg for it harder," I command, and she does, voice breaking.
Saturday afternoon, the grand staircase becomes risky territory. Halfway up, I pull her down to straddle me on the steps, her riding my cock with urgent bounces. The wood digs into my back, but I don't care. Rose and her perfect pussy are the center of my world now.
By the end of the week, she's marked everywhere: bruises on her hips, bites on her neck, my scent lingering on her skin. We're exhausted but addicted, every room echoing our passion.
But Monday hits hard. Business pulls me away all day and night, meetings dragging in the city, my mind on Rose the whole time. I text her filthy promises, keeping her wet and waiting. If Riccardo hadn’t needed my help, I would have stayed exactly where I’ve been all week, buried between her thighs with her moans in my ear.
By Tuesday morning, I'm more pent-up than I’ve ever been in my life.
“You okay, boss?” Ottavio teases on the way home. “You look a little strung up.”
“One more word and I’ll paint the car with your brains.”
He cackles loudly. “Oh, to be young and in love. I remember what that felt like.”
Is that what I am? In love? I search myself for the answer. It’s not easy for a man like me to admit to something as powerfulas that. Love is the harbinger of weak spots. God knows I can’t afford to have any.
But Rose is different. For her, I’d face even that.
And she’s mine. No one else’s. I don’t plan on that ever changing.
So maybe it is what Ottavio says it is.
But I still haven’t let her into the west wing.
That thought gnaws at me. If she is to be wholly mine, I should be wholly hers. That’s just logic.
But can I give her that?
Not yet.I grip the leather of the seat hard.I’m not ready.
“Oh, by the way, boss,” Ottavio pipes up again. “Finally found what you asked.”
“The stalker?”
“Not yet. The other thing, though. It’s in the trunk.”
“In thetrunk?” My eyes widen. “How long has it been there?”
“Couple of hours. Don’t worry, I parked in the shade.”
I sigh and massage my temples. Leave it to Ottavio to give me a heart attack first thing in the morning. “Make sure it’s taken care of.”
“Will do, boss.”
We get to the house. I force myself to walk slowly. But everything in me wants to spring out of the car and up the steps.
When I reach my room, Rose is in bed, beautiful in her sleep. But then again, she always is.
“Good morning,” I whisper into her as she shifts in the sheets.
“Matteo?” She blinks blearily in the pale dawn light. “You were gone so long…”
“I know. I’m here now.”
I strip her slowly, worshipping her body with hands and mouth. She responds instantly to my touch, like the distance has starved her just as much as it has starved me.
