Consent? At what point did I consent to her and her father trying to get me killed?
“You would tell him you’re coming home to suck my dick and make me dinner?”
A small smile plays at the corner of her mouth. “You can be diplomatic without lying.”
“How long were you fucking Rocco?” I change tactics, looking for the crack in her armor I know is there.
She doesn’t take the bait, just wipes down the cutting board. “Why are you deflecting? Is it hard for you to hear something about yourself?”
I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. “I could give a fuck what you think of my choices, princess.”
Silence. She moves around the kitchen with that infuriating grace, her gorgeous fat ass showing since she’s only wearing an apron. I didn’t have to tell her to do that tonight. She remembered the rule from last night and took it upon herself to repeat it after whatever the fuck that was when she begged me to fuck her throat.
My phone rings again, Matti this time. I answer with a snarl. “What.”
“Where the fuck are you?” Christ. “Why aren’t you meeting us? We’ve got movement on Aurelio and—”
“Do you know where he is?” I interrupt.
Matti pauses. “No. But—”
“Then we don’t need to meet.” My gaze snaps to Sophie. She’s wiping down the counter, but it’s clear that she’s listening. I huff out a breath. She wants truth? Fine. “Sophie’s making me dinner and then I’m going to fu—thank her with my co— FUCK. If you have anything useful, call me. Until then, leave me alone. I’m fucking busy.”
I can practically hear Matti’s eyebrows shooting up, and I end the call before he can say anything and meet Sophie’s gaze. She’s biting back a smile, looking down at the counter. That fucking smile.
“What.”
She shakes her head, pinching her lips together. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit. Say it.”
“You don’t want to tell him that you’re fucking me.” She says it like we’re discussing the weather. “Why?”
Anger flares through me. “You just gave me shit about lying, and now you’re giving me shit for what? Not giving them a diary entry?”
“Just wondering why you started to tell them you’re going to ‘thank me with your cock’ after dinner and then stopped.” She glances at me, eyes sparkling like a challenge.
I’m across the apartment and behind her in the kitchen before I decide to move, crowding her against the counter, brushing her hair off her neck, setting my chin on her shoulder.
“Because it was a fucking lie, and you just asked me not to lie. If I decide to grant you a request, you don’t get to dictate how I do it.”
I bring my hand down on her bare ass hard in one sharp motion, and she gasps, her head jerking up. I grab the bottle of olive oil beside her, and pour it over the curve of her ass, watching it run down her thighs.
She squeals, trying to turn, but I fist my hand in her hair and force her to face forward.
“How’s it a lie?” Her voice is breathless, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
I work my belt open with one hand, keeping her hair wrapped tight in my other fist. “Because I intend topunishyou with my cockbeforeyou make me dinner, Sophia.”
I rub my cock against her, coating it with olive oil, then push inside her ass steadily and relentlessly until I’m balls deep inside her without warning. She cries out, hands scrabbling along the counter top, spilling a container of pine nuts.
“Now stop questioning me.” I pull back and drive in again, harder, establishing a rhythm. “And put your face on the counter.” Another brutal thrust that has her gasping. “And let me use you.”
Sophie obeys, pressing her cheek against the countertop, spreading her legs wider for me. “Vincenzo—”
“Did I say you could talk?” I slap her ass, leaving a hand print in the oil coating her skin.
She whimpers but doesn’t answer. Smart girl.
