But I do.
“I’m so full,” I moan, fingers trembling as I rock against the toy. “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”
For a heartbeat, I swear I feel him in the room. Like if I turned my head, he’d be there, watching me with that hungry, tormented stare that always had me coming back for more.
And God, I hate him.
But Christ, I still want him.
Then his voice hardens, and his next words splinter me all over again.
“Hurt yourself for me. Be my dirty little slut.” His voice is gritted steel. “You want to come for Daddy? Show me how pretty you look falling apart.”
I tug on my clit ring, gasping as my thighs begin to tremble. “It’s all for you,” I moan. “I got this piercing just for you.”
“God, I want that ring between my teeth. Want to feel it drag against my tongue while I fuck you full with my fingers. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d let me own every inch.”
“Yes,” I choke out, right on the edge. “Please. Claim me, make me yours.”
When the orgasm hits, it’s like glass shattering under pressure. My body bows, the room blurs, and everything dissolves into heat and blinding white.
When I lift the toy and show him the evidence before licking it clean, he groans, low and broken through my speakers.
BegForMe:Same time tomorrow.
And just like that, he’s gone.
Leaving me alone, soaked in sweat and silence, heart pounding in a body that still remembers what it feels like to be loved by him.
Or at least… to be wanted like it was love.
And hating myself because, despite everything, part of me still wants it, too.
Chapter 15
“How’s the new Mrs?” Owen asks the second I answer my phone the next morning, laughter already curling around every word.
Fucker’s probably been glued to every pap shot from yesterday’s ambush. It’s not every day the CEO of Salvatore Vineyards’ granddaughter is seen with a man, especially not with her father and the Don himself hovering nearby, practically beaming for the cameras.
It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, and I’m already itching for the anonymity of the Points. How these people manage to conduct business while being so fucking worshipped publicly is beyond me. I’d rather work in shadows than under spotlights that never blink.
“Piss off,” I mutter, rolling my shoulders as I take a swig from my water bottle. Owen should count himself lucky he caught me between sets at the gym and still riding the buzz from last night’s call with Lily.
Just thinking of her voice, low and sultry, a thousand shades of wicked, has heat coiling low in my gut. It’s impossible to keep her out of my head, even when I know I can’t afford for anyone to realise how deeply she’s tangled into me. That nagging suspicion that there’s more to the story than some cut-and-dry betrayal keeps eating at me.
And now I’m here—my first full day in Italy, shackled to a future I don’t want, drowning in obligations I can’t escape. A marriage contract hanging over my head like a guillotine, threatening not just my freedom but everything I’ve tried to keep safe.
Including her.
“I think secretly you’re loving this,” Owen taunts, smug as sin. “At least now you don’t have to trick someone into falling for your ginger ass.”
“Wanker,” I grunt, putting him on speaker so I can keep going with my bicep curls. The burn in my arms is nothing compared to the burn in my chest every time I remember Lily’s eyes on me. Soft, hungry, defiant.
“Can’t a man check in on his best mate?” Owen asks innocently.
“Sure he can, if his name’s not Owen Jameson.”
“Fine, fine, you caught me. I saw Ciaran sniffing around your flat when I dropped April off with Helen.”
