She doesn’t move. Just lies there, curled away from me, small and silent.
I shift closer, sliding my arm around her waist, trying to pull her back against my chest. She’s stiff, resistant in a way that’s so unlike her that alarm bells ring in my head.
“What’s going on?” I ask, softer this time.
She releases a shuddering breath, then speaks so quietly I almost don’t hear it: “I’m sorry I couldn’t do it.”
“Do what?”
“What you asked.” Her voice falters. “I tried, Vincenzo. I tried so hard. But my body—I couldn’t do it. I failed you.”
“Sophie—”
“You didn’t fuck me the way you promised.” There are thick tears in her voice. “You said you’d spank me and fuck me, but I ruined it because I couldn’t hold the position long enough.”
I just stare at her back, struggling to process what I’m hearing.
She’s upset, actually upset. Not because I degraded her, not because I drew on her with a marker like she was my property, not because I left her exposed and vulnerable for hours. She’s genuinely distressed because I didn’t brutalize her in the degrading way I promised .
What. The. Fuck.
My cock hardens despite my confusion and guilt, and I suddenly see her differently. She’s always been sweet, vulnerable in a way that has nothing to do with sex, a woman who finds value in serving people. But in this moment, I realize how fucking strong those traits are when they’re concentrated on one person. On me. And I’ve been using that against her.
The guilt sharpens, but so does the need to fuck her. Because knowing who she is, what she needs, what she’ll endure to make me happy—fuck, it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
I clear my throat. “Would you like the chance to make it right?”
She goes still then slowly, she turns to face me, hope flaring in her dark eyes. “Really?”
I nod, keeping my expression neutral even as my heart does this weird stuttering thing. “I want you to get the cannoli filling you made the other day.”
Her expression immediately shifts into a scowl, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Don’t worry,” I say, cupping her cheek. “I told you it won’t happen again, and it won’t happen again. Okay? If I do anything you don’t like, use a safe word. How about ‘cannoli’?”
She looks confused, but she nods. “Okay.”
“Okay? Okay what?” I raise an eyebrow.
Understanding dawns, and that glow I’m starting to crave lights her up. “Sì, padrone.”
Fuck, yes.That’swhat I needed to hear.
“Better.”
I follow her into the kitchen as she pulls out the cannoli cream she made after I contaminated the last batch and starts explaining what she’s doing.
I cut her off. “Did I say you could talk?”
She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head no.
Good girl.
I move behind her, unable to resist. My palms slide up her arms, down her sides, over the magnificent curve of her ass. She shivers but keeps working.
“Better stay focused,” I murmur against her neck. “This cannoli filling had better be good because you know I’m picky.”
She nods, stirring carefully.
