Tore her clothes off her body.
But still she didn't resist him.
In mere moments, she was completely bare to his gaze.
His beautiful Sarica.
Who should only be his.
So why, dolcezza?
Why?
He knew her first time should not be like this.
But he could no longer stop himself.
I'm sorry, my love.
Giancarlo knelt between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs as he spread them wider. She gasped, her body arching off the bed, but she didn’t resist. Her blindfolded face turned toward him, her lips parted in a silent plea, and Giancarlo felt a surge of possessiveness unlike anything he had ever known.
He leaned down, his breath hot against her skin, and pressed his mouth to her. She cried out, her hands twisting in the cuffs, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. The taste of her was intoxicating, and the sounds she made—soft, desperate moans that sent shivers down his spine—only fueled his hunger. He licked and teased, his tongue working her until she was writhing beneath him, her body trembling on the edge of release.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Please...”
Her plea was his undoing.
He increased the pressure, his hands gripping her hips as he drove her over the edge. Her body convulsed, her back arching off the bed, and she cried out, a sound so raw and primal it sent ajolt of pleasure through him. He didn’t stop until the last tremor had faded and she was lying limp and breathless beneath him.
For a moment, he just stared at her, his chest heaving, his mind reeling.
She was his.
Completely, utterly his.
And yet, as he looked at her—-blindfolded, bound, and trembling—-he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had crossed a line he could never come back from.
Chapter Four
THE DARKNESS WAS SUFFOCATING. Sarica sat on the edge of the bed, her wrists bound behind her back, the cold metal of the handcuffs digging into her skin. The blindfold over her eyes was tight, plunging her into a void where sight was impossible and every other sense was heightened.
For the past three days, she had been free to do as she wished inside of her room. Food and water had been given to her through a window. She had tried asking for a newspaper, and they had given that, too. But just when she had started to think that the reason they were treating her well was because they wanted to ransom her back to the Marchettis—-
Masked men had come in to blindfold and cuff her again, and Sarica knew she was back to square one as soon as she sensed someone enter her room.
Her body went rigid, her breath catching in her throat.
Rage filled the other person, and she fought against the instinctive urge to scream and beg for mercy.
Think of Viktor.
Think of Giancarlo.
Are you sure you really want to beg mercy from the man who caused Giancarlo to disappear?
The thought was enough to strengthen her resolve. And it helped her stay still even as she could feel him coming closer and closer.Her stomach churned as unseen hands gripped her shoulders to pull her up to his feet. Her mind begged her to fight and run, but all her heart wanted was to make her Giancarlo proud.
His mouth crashed on her, and just like that—-she knew.
