by Rose, Renee
“Let’s see… what to do to my beautiful prisoner.” I stare down at her, drinking in the sight of her lovely breasts, the way her red hair spreads out on the mattress like flames. Somehow her delectable stockings stayed on all night long. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes dilated. I know she wants this, even if she won’t admit it.
I reach to her thighs and grab one stocking in each hand to yank them down.
She kicks. “Jesus! You have to ruin those too?”
I roll her over and slap her ass, then twist her wrists behind her back and use one of the stockings to tie them together. “Too mouthy, bella. I like your spunk, but I require a little more respect.”
“I’m sorry, Stefano.”
A chuckle barrels out from me before I can stop it. “You do learn fast, don’t you, amore?” I tug her hips up to bring her knees under her so she’s on an angle with her face on the bed and her ass in the air. “Mmm, now that’s pretty.”
The fact that she holds still tells me she’s all in. I slap her ass a couple times with my hand, then retrieve my belt from the closet. I use the last six inches of it to lightly slap her, warming her cheeks and backs of her thighs with gentle licks. Then I let out a little more length and slap it hard across the center of her ass.
She yelps and lists to the side. “Ow!”
“Two more just like that and we can get to your reward. Now hold your position. You don’t want this belt hitting you somewhere that doesn’t feel good.”
“Who says it feels good at all?”
I give a dark chuckle. “Feels good to me.” I whip her again, laying a neat stripe just below the first one. She gasps, but holds still. “Good girl.” I swing a third time, then toss the belt onto the bed beside her. “Now for your reward.”
I untie her wrists and roll her over. Her eyes are glassy, lips parted. “Do you want a reward, Corey?”
She nods, eyes locked on mine as I climb up onto my knees on the bed and slide my hands under her hips to cup her ass. She bends her knees up to accommodate me.
I lower my face to her cunt and nip her through the scrap of panties. “You have to say it out loud. I don’t want any misunderstandings.”
“I want my reward,” she says quickly.
I laugh and nip her again. “Tell me what you want me to do, amore. Be very clear.”
She swallows.
I know she’s full of bluster, but I’m actually not sure whether Corey Simonson knows how to ask for what she wants.
Turns out she does.
“I want your mouth on me—like last night. And…”
I pull her panties to one side and drag my tongue up her slit. “And?” I arch a brow.
“I-I want you to fuck me.”
Victory dance.
I knew we’d get here sooner or later, but I’m fucking thrilled she made it so easy.
I pull her panties off. They’re the only piece of clothing I haven’t ruined. I might need to remedy that. But I don’t have time to think about clothing when her pussy’s wet and waiting.
I cup her hot ass in my hands and lick into her. She tries to arch off the bed, but I shift my hands to pin her pelvis down, hold her still for the onslaught of my tongue. I trace her inner lips, penetrate her with my thumb. I flick and tease her clit until it’s swollen and the hood pulls back.
“Play with your breasts,” I order.
“Wha—” She lifts her head, looking beautifully befuddled. A surge of manly pride shoots through me. I did that to her.
“Pinch those nipples. Make them hard.” I wait until she complies before I return to pleasuring her. She arches her lower back from the bed, rocking her pelvis toward my face. I go slowly, dipping two fingers into her and arcing them to stroke her inner wall.
She gasps and clenches around my fingers, inner thighs clamping down on my shoulders.
“Stefano.”
“That’s it, baby. Say my name.”
“I need it,” she says.
Oh, fuck me. I need to give it to you so hard, baby. But I also don’t want this to end. I enjoy having Corey trembling and gasping my name like I’m the only man in the universe who can give her what she needs.
I ease my fingers out of her and pick up one of her stockings. She watches me climb over her with heavy-lidded eyes, but they fly wide when I catch her wrists and quickly tie them together.
“You have a bondage thing, Stefano?” Her voice is soft and breathy, no trace of the harsh judgment she usually infuses.
“Only with you, bambina.” It’s mostly true. Sure, I’ve tied girls up before, smacked their asses, bossed them around. But with Corey it’s far more interesting. She’s not submissive by nature, so taking her power away gives her a far greater release. And frankly, I want to conquer her this way.
I hold her wrists down and work one of her nipples with my teeth and tongue. She writhes beneath me. “Stefano.” She pops her pelvis up to hit my aching cock. She needs it bad.
So do I.
“Beg for it.” It’s a challenge. I know it will piss her off and it does. She rolls her eyes.
“You want to hear you’re good?”
I cup her mons and stroke my middle finger slowly along her juicy slit.
“You’re fucking good. So damn good.” She rolls her head around on the bed with a wanton moan.
“Beg.”
“You’re also a cocky—”
I release her nipple with a pop and arch a warning brow.
“—arrogant, controlling bastard who’s keeping me prisoner.”
I remove all touch, backing up and pulling her wrists toward the headboard where I wind an end of the stocking around the post. “Badly played, amore.”
She pants, watching me with those bright blue eyes. Her legs swish restlessly on the bed.
I walk to the closet and rummage in my suitcase for the vibrator. Yes, I travel with it. You never know when you might need to pleasure a woman. I twist it to turn it on and saunter back to my lovely captive.
“Open your thighs, bella.”
She tugs at her bound wrists, eyes on the vibrator, legs still dancing.
I climb over her. “Don’t make me ask twice,” I murmur.
Her knees fall open the moment the vibe hits her clit. I stroke it slowly up and down her slit, feed it into her, then remove it and tease her clit. I continue this pattern until her pants become whines, her head rolls around with impatience.
Finally, I insert the vibrator into her and leave it, then I walk away.
“Hey!” she cries indignantly as I head to the bathroom.
I ignore her and wash my hands and face, brush my teeth.
“Stefano Tacone, you bastard. Get back here. Please.”
“Baby, I’m not going to warn you again—don’t call me names.” I come out of the bathroom, drying my hands.
It’s not really that I give a shit. But I have a reputation. I can’t have her disrespecting me in front of anyone else.
“I’m sorry.” She seeks my gaze with pleading one. “Please don’t do this. Please.”
“What do you need? Ask me sweetly.”
She grimaces, but lifts her chin. “I want your big Italian cock, okay? Are you going to give it to me?”
I can’t help but laugh. I pull the vibrator out of her and toss it on the bed. “I like you, Corey Simonson.” I slip my hand in my boxer briefs and pull out my cock. “Very much.” I snap open a condom and roll it on.
“I wish I could say the same, but you know—” She looks up at her tied wrists.
* * *
Corey
“Oh, you’ll like it, bella. I’ll make sure of it.” Stefano rubs the head of his sheathed cock over my swollen opening.
I moan, and my eyeballs roll back in my head. So help me God, I know he will. I’m freaking dying for Stefano to get me off. My whole body’s fevered and needy for him. And I have no doubt he’ll deliver everything I need.
I bend my knees up in offering.
The truth is, I’m enjoyi
ng my imprisonment with Stefano Tacone way too much. The man is far too sexy for his own good. For my own good.
He eases in, this thick member stretching me wide. Once seated, he withdraws, grips the tops of my thighs and plows back in, bumping my ass with his balls.
It’s exactly what my body craves.
Stefano lets out a growl of pleasure, holding me tighter as he increases his speed. “Yes,” I whisper, closing my eyes.
“Look at me, bambina.”
I don’t know why he wants me to look, but I crack my lids and stare up at him as he thoroughly fucks me. It’s more intense with our gazes locked—way more intense. Stefano’s lids droop, but a muscle in his jaw ticks as he shoves in with powerful thrusts. His eyes blaze with dark heat, animalistic desire.
I find myself wishing he’d taken off his t-shirt so I could watch those bulging muscles on his arms and chest flex in naked glory. Fuck it; he made me ask for sex. I can ask for this, too.
“Take off your shirt, Stefano.” I don’t even ask.
His eyes flare and a slow smile spreads over his face as he continues to pump in and out of me. He drags his t-shirt off and tosses onto the floor. “Better?”
My mouth waters, and I’m suddenly dying to drag my tongue over all that hard flesh. His chiseled chest is covered in dark curls with a happy trail that leads to his cock. Washboard abs. Ripped shoulders. No tattoos. That surprises me.
He drops to rest on his hands beside my ribs, bringing his face close to mine. “Like what you see?”
I pop my hips to meet his thrusts, take him deeper. “Yeah.”
He twists his lips over mine in one demanding kiss, then pushes back up to his knees and rolls mine up to my shoulders.
I gasp at the new angle, the intensity of sensation. And that’s when he picks up the vibrator. He turns it on and pushes the tip up against my clit.
“No!” I wriggle, pre-orgasmic alarm flashing through me.
“Fucking give it to me,” he snarls.
I’m not even sure what he means, but he’s relentless with the vibrator and his teeth-rattling thrusts. I explode. Shatter. Disintegrate. I’m nothing but bucking hips and screams while he wrenches the orgasm from me the same forceful way he demands everything.
My inner muscles clench around his cock, squeezing.
I realize he’s making one long continuous growling sound. His nostrils flare and he bares his teeth. The sound peaks into a roar and he thrusts deep, ass bucking and jerking as he comes.
I come some more, another flutter of muscles clenching around his cock, milking it.
He drops down onto me and bites my shoulder, still rocking into me, but sweetly now. My body revels in every area of contact, post-coital pleasure spreading through me like an inkblot, making the whole fucked up night seem like nothing more than a prelude to this.
And that’s just the sex talking. Pay no attention to this cock-inspired bliss. I am still a prisoner here. And he’s still my keeper.
Even if he does know how to make my body sing.
He eventually pulls out and tosses his condom in the trashcan by the bed, then lies beside me, stroking his hand up my belly.
I have a huge birthmark, an ugly splotch of red that stretches across my side, and I grow suddenly self-conscious when he starts tracing it with his finger.
“Don’t.”
“What? It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. How do you not have a boyfriend?”
I wrinkle my nose. “What makes you think I don’t?”
His sexy lips quirk. “I figured you would’ve said something the first time I kissed you.”
“Fair enough,” I concede.
“I don’t get it—woman like you. How do you not have a whole legion of men around you who fall on their knees to worship you forever? I would think one taste and they’d be lost.”
Something twists in my middle, the sick feeling of betrayal and failure. “Yeah, well, my last boyfriend turned out to be a snake. And your brother made him disappear.”
Stefano arches a brow. “Permanently?”
A shiver runs up my spine at the confirmation of what could’ve been.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“What happened?”
Anger shoves up in my chest, hot and searing. “Apparently one taste of me, as you suggested, was not enough, and he thought it would be cool to force-fuck my cousin, too. He didn’t manage because Nico showed up.”
Stefano mutters something and rubs a hand across his mouth. “How is he not dead?”
Right. That was my assessment of what Nico’s capable of, too. “Sondra was there, screaming for him to stop. So he did. Told him to leave the state or he’d kill him.”
Stefano stares down at me. I think he’s going to tell me what an idiot Dean was, or how I’m better off, but he surprises me. “You’re still pissed,” he observes.
I frown because, yeah, of course I’m pissed. But I also realize what it means. I’m not over Dean. And I really want to be.
“You didn’t get to knee him in the nuts before he left.”
I’m surprised by the laugh that tumbles from my lips. “Yeah, that might’ve helped.”
“I could find him for you and haul him back,” Stefano offers. “Let you turn his balls blue like you turned mine.”
I laugh again.
“I’m serious. I would do that for you in a heartbeat.”
His brown eyes are warm now, flicks of gold and green glittering in the sunlight that filters through the curtains.
“Is that your version of a knight in shining armor?”
“Yeah. I guess.” He rolls away, off the bed and heads to the bathroom. I hear the shower turn on.
Did I offend him? Was that a slight against the type of man he is? A mobster?
No. That’s impossible. Stefano Tacone is all confidence and swagger. Why would he care what I think?
Except I can’t push away the nagging idea I somehow hurt him. Which for some reason kills the post-orgasm buzz I was floating on.
Chapter 4
Stefano
I order room service for breakfast and call down to the front desk to have work out clothes delivered in her size. It’s one of the perks offered at the Bellissimo. I also call the clothing shop in the casino and ask for a fashion consultant to pick out a variety of red dresses to replace the one I cut and other clothing and to deliver them to the room.
Then I get with Al Sampson, the detective who does background checks on people for the casino and ask for everything on Corey Simonson.
“I already have a partial file on her,” he tells me, “from when I ran her cousin, Sondra Simonson. I’ll send over what I have and keep digging.”
“You sending it electronically?”
“Yeah, you’ll have it in two minutes.”
“Thanks, Al. Appreciate it.” I pocket my phone and straighten my tie.
I’ve ignored the naked redhead tied to my bed since my shower, which is pissing her off. I’ll untie her when the food gets here, but for now she can stew.
I don’t know why I’m pissed at her calling out the things that make me a Family man. It’s like I’m that kid in Catholic school again. The one the others are afraid of. The one they whisper about when I’m not there and go dead silent when I ask what’s up.
I never wanted to be that kid. I didn’t get into fist fights—not unless really provoked. As the youngest of five Tacone boys, proving myself was never necessary. And really, it’s not my style. I was more of the class clown. The smart aleck who got sent to the principal’s with a smirk on his face. I generally like people.
And Corey’s like Tosha Davis. The one I wanted to entertain but was never good enough for.
Because her dad was a politician and mine—a mobster.
So now I have the daughter of a fed tied to my bed. One who saw me kill a man last night. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I had no choice. And I want her to see me as something beyond a well-suited mafia man.
Wh
ich is stupid.
I shouldn’t give a shit what she thinks anyway, and I’m not entering a relationship with her.
I mean, why would I even think this way?
Except I’m not willing to untie her and let her walk out of my room, either. And if I were totally honest, I’d have to admit only a small part of my reasoning for that has to do with her watching me pull that trigger last night.
I’m usually done with a woman the moment I come. I mean, I don’t mind giving her a little cuddle afterward, but I definitely don’t want to hang around and eat breakfast with her.
So why am I still in this suite? It’s not like I don’t have a shit ton to do out in the Bellissimo.
Jesus, it’s like Nico’s sudden attachment to a woman has me suddenly starting one, too.
Maybe it’s catching. Heh. Maybe it’s some biological attraction. Like the Simonson genes match well with the Tacones’.
Okay, I’m off my fucking rocker now.
“Room service.” A tap sounds at the front door. I point in warning at Corey. “Not a word, amore.” I shut the door to the bedroom to block any view of her.
Once the server is gone, I set her free and give her one of my t-shirts to wear. “I’m having workout clothes sent up and we’ll work on replacing that dress this afternoon. Come on, I ordered us some food.”
I actually hadn’t planned on staying to eat with her, but it’s like there’s this magnetic pull, keeping me here in the suite with her.
She’s unusually quiet as she eats.
“You okay?” I find myself asking as I sip my coffee and observe her.
She raises her brows. “Hmm, am I okay? I got some guy’s blood splattered on me last night, witnessed a murder and now am some kind of prisoner to my boss, who happens to be the guy who pulled the trigger and is also into kinky games. I don’t even know what okay is in this situation.”
It’s my fucking fault for asking. What did I think she would say? But her assessment—accurate though it may be—puts my hackles up. And rather than be an asshole, I decide it’s time to leave.
