Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
She visibly jumped before, with shaking steps, she approached my bed.
I tapped the smooth wooden top of the chest with my crop and narrowed my eyes.
With a sniff, she gingerly raised her right knee and lifted herself onto the chest. After getting settled on both knees, she bent forward and placed her hands over the edge of the low footboard.
Damn, she looked amazing in only her corset and those damn fuck-me boots.
My cock lengthened at the sight of her bare ass and her legs, how they contrasted against the black leather encasing them up to the tops of her thighs. It was incredibly sexy how the corset pinched into her waist and exposed slivers of her lower back through the laces.
No wonder other men couldn’t keep their hands off her. If this marriage was going to work, I might have to lock her in a convent and only see her for conjugal visits.
I pushed her hair over her shoulder with the leather tongue of my riding crop.
She bit her lip as she lowered her head, letting a cascade of spiral curls cover her face. The damp had made her blonde hair more of a golden brown. “Are you going to kill me?”
What an odd thing to ask.
Were her Sicilian lovers so boring they played no bedroom games?
It was possible that she had never experienced bondage before.
“Don’t be silly, colomba mia birichina. We’re just going to have a little fun, but first you need to be punished for all the running away you did tonight.”
“Punished?”
The leather tongue of my crop teased the curve of her hip.
She shivered and arched her back away.
As I stepped near, I placed the riding crop across her throat. “Tell me you’ve been a bad girl.”
When she remained silent, I pulled the riding crop toward me, allowing the rod to press against her throat.
Her head tilted up . “I’ve been a bad… bad girl.”
“Now ask me to whip you.”
“What?” She attempted to turn her head to look at me.
“Face forward,” I commanded.
She complied. Her shoulders rose and fell with her rapid breath. “Please tell me you’re not going to hurt me with that thing?”
“Would you rather I use my belt?”
“I’d rather you let me go.”
“Not an option. Now you’re wasting time and trying my patience. I gave you an order.”
Her throat muscles contracted as she swallowed. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
I leaned over her kneeling form and whispered into her ear. “I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to beg me to punish you.”
Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips.
My balls tightened.
Soon.
It was the one pleasure I was allowing myself for now.
The pleasure of her cute mouth.
I rubbed the end of the riding crop along her jaw. “The longer you defy me, the angrier I will get, and the harder I will shove my cock down your pretty throat after your punishment.”
CHAPTER 7
ELLA
This wasn’t happening to me, it was happening to my sister.
It was my sister, half naked, bent over a strange man’s bed.
Not me. Not me. Not me.
My mind couldn't escape harsh reality, no matter how many times I repeated the twisted mantra.
This was happening to me.
I was half naked, bent over Matteo Cavalieri’s bed.
This wasn’t my world. It was my sister’s.
She was the one who delighted in toying with men. Who had been using sex as a tool to get what she wanted since she was sixteen. She was the one who reveled in embarrassing me by recounting all the kinky things she had done in some random man’s bed the night before.
Not me. Not me. Not me.
I was the quiet sister. The shy one. The one who hid behind her books and music.
The virgin one.
I tilted my head to look at him through my curtain of hair.
His sudden appearance at Carnevale had been alarming. His appearance now was terrifying.
At Carnevale he was a tall, dark, handsome man in an alluring costume who boldly kissed me.
Now, he was Matteo Cavalieri.
Towering over me with his superior height and heavily corded with muscle, bare chest exposed, he exuded power and authority. His body practically hummed with it. Even the strange tattoo of a passionflower surrounded by what looked like pagan symbols added to the demonic mystique which was certainly helped by the black leather mask and breeches with riding boots.
Then there was the riding crop.
Sciatiri e matri, the riding crop!
I wasn’t so sheltered I knew nothing about bondage sex games. I just never thought I’d be a participant. Ever. Not in my wildest, deepest, darkest fantasies had I ever imagined this scenario.
Of course, I never imagined a scenario where I would let a man finger-fuck me in the middle of the square while we watched a primal threesome silhouetted by flames.
My knuckles turned white as I grabbed the footboard harder. “I know I got … carried away … in the piazza, but you have to understand, it wasn’t at all like me to do something like that.”