The first red dress tore. Get another.It was brief and without context, but Gemma had been picked for and was paid a huge sum of money for her astonishing resourcefulness. I’d bet my last dollar she’d have the exact dress for me by the end of tomorrow.
I took another sip of the liquid and relished the burn as it slid down my throat. I forced my mind to concentrate on a project I was taking on in Sicily, but I simply couldn’t stop thinking about her. Even though I pretended to myself she was little better than a whore. I had paid for her body after all, I knew deep down that she was no whore. What she had done for her father was the highest form of love. She had sacrificed herself for him. It was a rare and precious thing. In my life, I only ever met people who put themselves first. The best for me and the rest for thee.
I chucked the contents of the whisky down my throat. I felt vaguely irritated with myself. What the fuck was I doing making excuses for her? If I carried on in this way I was going to become totally infatuated with her. And never again was I going down the road where I trusted or cared about a woman. My phone rang. It was my brother Angelo.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Whoa, what’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” I muttered.
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say it was a woman that got you all tangled up and—.”
“It’s late,” I interrupted coldly. “I was at Brighton Beach all day and I’m tired.”
“Hmm…” He sounded unconvinced. “Anyway, it’s all set up. Come over tomorrow.”
“Right then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Well done,” I said sincerely.
“Thanks, Luca.” I could hear the pride in his voice. Praise from me was hard to come by.
I ended the call and rose to my feet. All I could think of was of her lying in her bed upstairs. My body was throbbing. There were only twenty-nine days left and I was going to have my fill of her. I would get tired of her. I always did. Even the most delicious thing will become a bore if you have it every single day, often more than once, for twenty-nine days.
When I arrived at her room I did not knock. I simply turned the handle and walked in. Her red dress was on the middle of the floor in a heap. She’d probably just let it fall off her. There was a lacy bra not far away from the dress.
My gaze moved away the discarded garments to the shut door that led to the bathroom. I imagined she was taking a shower or a bath. Probably washing away the semen. Even while I was watching her I had seen my seed dripping out of her.
I considered heading into the bathroom and fucking her in there, but the inviting bed had a higher strength to its call. I wanted to explore all sorts of positions there with her. My hands went to the buttons of my shirt while I kicked off my shoes.
I shrugged out of my shirt and just as I was pulling the strap of my belt out of the buckle, I heard the door to the bathroom open. I didn’t turn around to look at her even though I was well aware that she was startled at my presence.
“What are you doing here?” she gasped.
I almost smiled at her bravado. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“I’m tired,” she whispered. “Don’t I have the right to be tired?”
I let myself glance at her… and I couldn’t look away. She was wrapped in a white towel and her hair was wet and hanging in clumps down her pale glistening shoulders. Her eyelashes were still damp, her ocean blue eyes were enormous and filled with child-like innocence, and her face was scrubbed clean of all make up.
She looked fragile, vulnerable… and too young. Way too young for me. I felt as if I was robbing the cradle. I hated seeing her like this. I wanted her to be just a slut with a great mouth that I bought at a party, and it infuriated me that at every turn she managed to get the better of me. She was twenty-fucking-three, I wasn’t robbing the cradle, and I did buy her. I sat down on the edge of the bed and glared at her.
“Get on your knees,” I ordered. “And suck me off.”
Defiance flared in her eyes, but she fought it down and came forward. She stood in front of me, her chin tilted proudly. You can use my body, but you will never break me, it said.
“Take off the towel,” I commanded.
She pulled the fabric from her body and the towel pooled around her. My eyes devoured her body hungrily. As I ran down her body, I saw new bruises around her wrist, and knew instantly I had made them earlier when I grabbed and held her by her wrists. I reached forward and took her unresisting hand in mine. I stroked the bruise with my thumb and looked up at her. “Does it hurt?”