Page 62 of Wrong Pawn. Right Capo.

“Good.”

His hands reach for my breasts, kneading them roughly with those strong hands. The pleasurable sensation from both my opening and my breasts makes me lift my hips off the bed, wanting more.

“You don’t move,” he snaps, pulling a wide silk blindfold from the drawer and tying it over my eyes.

“This is torture,” I whimper. I hear his low chuckle.

“Is it?”

I feel him reaching down to steal my lips in his, devouring my mouth until the room completely spins. My legs reach out to wrap themselves around his waist in a bid to feel him, but he unwraps them gently.

“I said, do not move.”

He circles his tongue over my nipple, and before I can sigh contentedly, something painful nips on it. I let out a short gasp.

“That’s for disobeying me,” he hisses. My teeth clench together as the second clamp pinches my other nipple. There’s this sudden rush of blood in my arms, sparking both pain and pleasure at the same time.

God. I don’t want this to stop.

I can feel his hands trailing every inch of my body gently, like he’s trying to memorize every part of me. Then the tingling of the vibrator stops, and I feel the tip of his cock circling my clit.

My hips buck again, this time subconsciously.

“You naughty little thing,” he groans into my ear. Something tickling trails from my chest down my navel and then to my pussy.

My head is rolling from side to side, my hands folding into fists. My entire body has never been assaulted by this many points of intense pleasure at once. I don’t know what he’s doing to me, but whatever it is I need more.

“More…” I cry, “I need more…”

His chuckle grows louder as he lashes the flogger across my stomach.

“Yes, yes.” The leather comes down harsher than the first time.

“Use your days, Elena.”

“Sunday!” I yelp. He brings the flogger down a few more times on my stomach and thighs until my entire body is trembling from the effect. The impact is both harsh and soft at the same time. How the hell does he do this?

And then I feel it… his familiar monstrous, heavy cock inside me. And god, I can’t get enough of it.

A satisfied sigh slips from my lips. I love you, Adriano. The words ring out in my head. No, no, that’s wrong. That’s wrong on so many levels.

I do not love him; I love what he does to my body, but I cannot love him. Period.

His desperate grunts and feverish strokes call me back to the moment, and as he topples over me in his orgasm, a tear rolls its way out of my eye.

I don’t understand why I feel so sentimental; it must be this new…style of sex, or the fact that I’m stressed, but whatever the reason is, Adriano Bellandini will never get his hands on me again. Ever.

I am finally drawing the fucking line.

Chapter twenty

Adriano

The door to the ex-commissioner’s house is slightly ajar. Something’s fucking wrong.

Signaling Francesco, I shove the glass door out of my way and head inside, my Glock aimed in front of me.

The fucking man went off the grid for the past two years, completely cutting off communication from the rest of the world and even his family, but no one can hide from me. At least not forever.