“I want …” She toyed with the buckle and pulled at it, sliding it slowly from his pants. To his surprise, she held it out to him. He took it in his hands, and before he could cast it aside, she lay her wrists across it. Her eyes glowed with something like confusion as she bit down on her lower lip and waited for him to say or do something.
He nodded wordlessly, but his arousal was straining painfully against the fabric of his pants. “You want more?” He murmured, smiling at her small nod of agreement. He looked around the room. It had been years since he’d slept here. The bed was only a double, not the King size he preferred. But it had an ornate, wrought iron headboard that looked strong enough.
“Lie on the bed,” he said gruffly, watching as she moved towards it. Slowly, she slid her zip down and removed the dress, her eyes on his face the whole time. Then her underwear, until she stood before him naked and bathed in the milky glow of the night beyond them.
She lay down, her pert breasts drawing his admiring gaze. He strolled towards her, and removed his pants, so that he too was naked.
She turned her head to stare at him. Her chest moved rapidly as her breathing strained to catch up.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said simply, straddling her and staring down at her beautiful face.
“I’m not,” she responded with a smile that made her eyes light up. “I should be, but I’m not.”
He looped the belt through the bedhead before capturing her wrists and restraining them. “Does that hurt?”
She shook her head, and lifted her hips, so that he understood her urgency. He lowered his mouth and kissed hers, wondering what it would be like to have sex with Kate Jones for the pleasure of it. Not because of some vendetta; not because he hated her whole family. But purely because he wanted her.
“I’ve never done anything like this. I’ve never felt like this,” she said wrapping her legs around his waist.
He cupped her cheek and pressed his forehead to hers. Nor had he. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he was about to begin wreaking havoc in that smug bastard’s life in the most poignant of ways — Benedetto couldn’t have said. But their night was taking on a surrealism that was breathtaking for its beauty and uniqueness.
He moved inside of her, but this time, as he made love to her, he watched her face and he studied every single detail. The way her lips pursed as pleasure became almost too much. The way she squeezed her eyes as she climaxed. The way she rolled her head from side to side, sending her fair hair flying.
Afterwards, her body glistening with perspiration despite the coolness of the night, he took in the picture she made. With her hair tussled, her cheeks pink, her hands bound — there was no doubt what she’d been doing. With a sinking feeling that was at odds with the triumph he was about to effect, he reached for his phone.
“What are you doing?” She asked, but she was smiling as he held the phone over her face.
“I want to remember you like this,” he said simply, taking a photograph that framed her hands and face only in shot.
“That had better not wind up on the internet,” she said with a look of doubt.
He laughed. “For my private pleasure, I assure you.” He kissed the tip of her nose and then loosened the belt.
“Show me.”
He held the phone out. She propped up on one elbow and examined the picture. From her hair to her eyes to her lips. A smile spread across her face. “I look thoroughly ravaged,” she murmured, falling back against the pillows.
“Not as thoroughly as you will be in two days,” he promised, running a finger between the valley formed by her breasts.
“Is that a promise?” She asked, but her eyes were heavy.
He watched as she fought — and lost — a battle against sleep.
“It’s a promise to more than just you,” he murmured.
He lifted his phone to look at the picture. It was the perfect shot. He loaded it into a text message and typed Augustine’s number in. But Kate made a noise at thatmoment. Worried the brightness of his phone was disturbing her, he placed it on the bedside table. There would be time to send it in the morning. Plenty of time.
He had his revenge now; he could take his time making Augustine aware of it.
CHAPTER THREE
“I’ve hired another lawyer.”
“It won’t help.” Carlo had lost weight; a lot of weight. His once virile figure had been reduced to a bag of ill-shaped bones. His face was sallow, his beard grey.
“Dad, you’re innocent. Prisons are not for the innocent.”
“Innocence is a matter of perspective,” he said gruffly. “Besides, I don’t think I could exist out there after what life’s been like in here.”
