by Deana Birch
Sotto. She dropped her eyes, took her seat again and obediently began pulling the meal from the bag. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl,” he crooned from the opposite side of the desk.
In her peripheral vision, she caught him taking the seat across from her and she bit back a groan. He was going to ensure she ate the entire meal. The warmth that spread through her at the realization had little to do with the man oozing testosterone and sex appeal and much more to do with his care and concern.
Claire popped the lid off the bowl-shaped container and stared at the contents. Chunks of chicken, something green and…meatballs? All were swirled into a soup that both looked questionable and smelled divine. She hesitated briefly, her spoon poised over the meal. She wasn’t certain if she was his sotto or just Claire in this moment, but she dared to lift her eyes to his. “What is this?”
He chuckled and propped his ankle on the opposite knee. “It is Italian wedding soup, cara. My nonna’s secret recipe. Trust me. You will like it. Eat.”
Cara. Sotto. It didn’t matter. She was helpless to do anything but obey. She took a spoonful of the amber liquid, lifting it to her lips cautiously and painfully aware of his eyes tracking her every move. An explosion of flavor burst on her tongue and her eyelids dropped closed. A moan rumbled the back of her throat. “This is amazing.”
“See, cara? Aren’t you glad you trusted me?” He stood from his seat, buttoned his jacket and leaned across the desk. He traced her jaw with his fingertips. His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “As much as I would love nothing more than to sit here with you for the rest of the afternoon, relishing every little sound you make and knowing I am the cause, I have an appointment.” He moved his head closer, hovering his mouth just above hers. “Make me proud, sotto. Eat every morsel.”
With that, he dropped his hand away and turned on his heel. He paused at her door, holding it open slightly. “We will revisit your little rebellions tonight, sotto. Seven o’clock.”
Claire struggled to keep her grip on the utensil in her hand. Hell, she struggled to draw oxygen into her lungs. Anticipation. Desire. Need. All mingled to cause her temperature to skyrocket and her blood to sing as it raced through her veins. She had no idea what was going through Luca’s mind and she didn’t even care. She knew that whatever his plan, her pleasure was at the center.
Her trust in him was implicit.
She broke a corner off the length of Italian bread he had included with the soup, popped it in her mouth…and nearly choked when she was hit with a sudden realization. His nonna’s secret recipe? That meant… No, no, it wasn’t possible. Certainly he hadn’t made this simply for her. She shook her head and dug back into the soup with renewed gusto.
Until cackling laughter hit her ears and forced her gaze to the doorway once more. “And what is so funny, Julien, you nosy little rat?”
His eyes glittered with amusement. “Oh nothing…cara. I just adore being right.”
* * * *
She was never as grateful for her habit of forgetting to put on a watch as she was when she was kneeling beside Luca’s bed. Not knowing how much or little time was passing added a level of excitement and, oddly, comfort to the ritual.
A bolt of lightning shot down her spine as the mechanism in the doorknob activated. “Good evening, sotto.”
This was…an unusual start to their sessions. “Good evening, Sir.”
“You have done so well, sotto, so very well.” He stood in front of her, heaving a sigh that sounded awfully dramatic. She fought to control her smile. “But we must address some issues.”
She swallowed. Her body shook from excitement and just a hint of nervousness. She remained silent but began screaming inside to experience something, anything, everything that she’d seen in the public punishment rooms on the floor below them.
“Stand.”
The command brought her to her feet before her mind had registered the word. She wondered if she would react this way to any Dom ordering her or if it was unique to Luca. And her stomach recoiled at the thought of any other, which thoroughly confused her.
“Front against the wall, arms over your head, palms flat.”
Facing the wall allowed Claire the freedom to look around. She didn’t see any restraints hanging from the smooth surface. Her mind raced, wondering what Luca had planned. But the rumble of his voice behind her, so close to her ear, quieted every thought. She trusted him, whatever his plan.
“This is our first time at this, sotto, so you will not be restrained. I expect you to keep your hands as they are, flush against the wall. I am trusting in your obedience and desire to please your Dom.” He trailed his fingers down her spine and traced the outline of the white thong she wore, running along the seam of her ass and stealing her breath. “You are such a good little submissive. Anticipating your Dom’s needs and wants down to the underwear you selected. Brava, sotto, but this does not mean you will not need to face some consequences for your previous actions.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He gripped her hip firmly. “What are your safewords, sotto?”
“’Yellow’ when it is getting to be a little too much and ‘Red’ when I need to stop, Sir.” Every time they added a new dynamic to their playtime, he required her to recite her safewords. The ritual brought comfort and…something else she was only beginning to acknowledge.
He wound his hand around her long blonde ponytail and tugged slightly. “Eyes.”
She turned her head and met his gaze. She’d expected the intensity, the desire, but the concern tinging the edges of the chocolate-colored orbs was…surprising. “Yes, Sir?”
“Your safewords are not just to be used when you are reaching your physical limits. If at any point you are struggling with mental and emotional reactions that are overwhelming, I am trusting you will use them.”
The tears stinging the back of her eyes were more confusing than his proclamation. He had never before reiterated the necessity of her safewords. Fear of another crash as epic as the one she’d experienced nearly two weeks ago made the hair on the back of her neck stand at attention. But…
“I trust you, Sir.”
He melded his mouth against hers and she found herself so lost in the bliss it created that the crack of his hand against her ass startled her, but she didn’t dare move away. His lips were a drug that kept her coming back for more. After a final swipe of his tongue against hers, he drew back. His gaze washed over her face, scrutinizing every inch so thoroughly that Claire fought the urge to look away.
Whatever he saw on her flaming hot countenance clearly pleased him as he offered an approving nod and moved behind her. “Do you believe I want to help you become the very best version of yourself possible, sotto?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, she replied. “Yes, Sir.”
“Brace, sotto.”
She planted her feet more firmly and pressed her palms against the creamy-colored wall, battling the uncertainty bubbling inside and clinging to the fact that she knew Luca would never hurt her.
Something smooth collided with her ass and she was grateful for his warning that kept her from stumbling. A soft string of Italian hit her ears, but the mounting adrenaline-induced euphoria made translating impossible. The initial pain couldn’t be denied, but the speed at which it melted into blissful pleasure shocked Claire.
“Rosso. Assolutamente mozzafiato.”
That was one she didn’t need to decipher, and hearing him call her stunning once again warmed her chest.
He cleared his throat. “Your language, sotto. I expect better.” Another smack hit squarely across both cheeks. “And we have discussed your eating habits. In order to perform at your best in all areas of your life, you must nourish your body in the proper way.”
This time there were two stinging swats in rapid succession and Claire bit her tongue to contain the moan threatening to escape, fearful he would interpret it as anything other than the hedonistic joy that was her reality
. Never before had she dreamed physical punishment could elicit such a response. Now she couldn’t envision living her life denying this side of herself.
“Lower your arms.”
He snaked his olive hand in front of her and affixed silver clamps to each of her nipples. The breath escaped her lips on a low hiss and the chuckle from behind her caused a ripple to run through her body. He turned her to face him, his eyes shining with delight. “Madonna mia, I’ve been dying to put these on you, sotto.”
Claire fought irritation at the fact that he was still clothed. Seeing Luca naked was a gift she treasured each and every time. She nodded, uncertain what to say. Her breasts had always been sensitive to the touch, but the pressure on the hardened nubs was delicious. Exquisite. Unexpected, but wholly welcome.
“You never cease to amaze me, sotto.”
The back of his hand trailed down the side of her face. She was grateful to keep her gaze fixed on the floor, anxious he would see every emotion written across it and all the things she couldn’t admit to feeling. He would know she wanted no Dom but him. “It is because of you, Sir.”
He skimmed his hands over her clamped nipples, eliciting a low moan she was helpless to prevent. He rested them on her hips first, making small circles on her hip bones with his thumbs, yet another area on her body she had always taken for granted brought to life by Luca’s expert touch. Soon he was on the move again, creating a path of fire along the edge of her thong. He ran an index finger down the front, delving beneath the thin material, the evidence of her need thoroughly soaking the lace.
“Is this because of me as well?” He slid one digit between her folds, teasing the aching nub. “And this, sotto? Is this also my fault?”
Her breathing had shallowed with his slow, tortuous ministrations. Her breasts had grown heavy with the clamps. Every inch of her was crying out for him. “Yes, Sir.”
His normally deep voice dropped another octave. “On the bed, sotto. On your hands and knees.”
The rustling of material behind her caused her brain to scream out a litany of curses in three different languages. Aftercare, she reminded herself. She would see him and touch him in their aftercare. The drawer to her right closed, followed by the familiar tearing of the foil packet. Her arms shook with anticipation.
The bed dipped behind her and his warm finger slid the thin material covering her to the side.
“Mozzafiato.”
It was whispered with more reverence than she’d ever heard and was followed by a hard thrust as he entered her. He kneaded her aching backside, amplifying the pleasure as he moved in and out.
“Please.” The single word was spoken on a sob. “Please, I need…”
He reached in front of her, teasing her swollen clit. Her clamped nipples rubbed against the satin material of his duvet each time his cock pumped inside her, making her whimper from the foreign sensation.
“Please what, sotto?” His own breathing was labored, his voice hoarse. “What do you need?”
She choked, overwhelmed at every angle. “I need to come, Sir. Please!”
“Si. Yes. Yes, sotto.” He pinched the aching nub with the clamp and her release followed immediately. Three more hard thrusts inside of her and his own guttural moan mingled with hers as she peaked a second time.
As always, Luca quickly disposed of his condom and wiped her gently with warm water. She gasped as he released her nipples from the clamps, sucking them lightly as the blood flow returned. He pulled her close to his side beneath the blankets and pressed his lips against her temple before he pushed her head down onto his chest.
Claire hung in the space between ecstasy and slumber, barely registering the words he spoke beneath his breath in his native tongue.
“Mio Dio che cosa ha fatto questo sottomesso a me.”
She promised herself to ask what it meant. Soon.
Three hours later he deposited her back at her house, insisting he drive her rather than rely on the car service that had brought her to him. He held her against him with one arm around her waist, staring at her with the intensity she had come to welcome, as the one person she knew understood every part of her.
“You will remember that from this point on, whether we are together or apart, whether you are negotiating a ten-million-franc transaction or we are exploring your boundaries within the walls of the club, you are a representative of me. Your actions, your words, your every movement is a testimony to the training you have received. You will show the world a version of Claire Favre that you never knew existed.” He cupped her cheek, the corners of his mouth curling slightly. “And you will take their breath away.”
Chapter Nineteen
Luca
Luca pressed his lips together as his mouth twitched to smile. The picture on his phone, of his sublime Cara’s lunch on her desk at a reasonable hour set his mind on fire with ways to reward her. He wrote back.
Your Master is very pleased, sotto. I’ll see you tomorrow night in my suite, as discussed. Wear a short dress, keep it on and wait for me on the couch. You shall be rewarded.
With his phone stored securely in the inner pocket of his suit, Luca scanned the entry to the quiet but upscale restaurant overlooking the lake of Lucerne. Bruno—more relaxed than he’d seen him in years—entered with a wide grin. They made eye contact and Luca rose as his old friend strode in his impeccable attire to meet him. Long past the days of a formal handshake, the two exchanged a happy tap on the shoulders with a narrowed distance between their chests.
Bruno ran a hand over his combed-back thinning brown hair and Luca gestured for him to sit.
“I already ordered the tasting menu for both of us and told them you’d be drinking my wine,” Luca said with a smirk.
Bruno frowned, but the lightness stayed in his dark eyes. “You would. Always trying to top.” He shook out his white linen napkin and placed it on his lap. They toasted each other with the sparkling water and Luca grinned.
“Retirement agrees with you.”
Bruno waved his hand as if brushing the comment off the table. “Adrian is taking massage lessons and has me going to yoga.” The last part of the sentence was barely above a whisper and he sat back deeper into the leather chair. “So, while my life may be relaxing, it’s incredibly boring. Tell me about the club. Any new male subs I would like?”
Luca shook his head and raised an eyebrow. “Old habits dying hard? I thought you were committed?”
“Don’t cock that bushy eyebrow at me. I can still look. Hell, he’s free to come down and have a go and I would too if my damn health allowed it.”
Yes. His illness. Luca’s face dropped. “What are your doctors saying?”
“The same damn thing they always have. Did you know that in the United States they actually give you a deadline? Ha!” Bruno’s head shot back. “That’s ironic, a dead line. But no, here they won’t say how long. Probably better, for Adrian’s sake.”
The waiter arrived with their first course and the two men stiffened their posture to accommodate the service, including Bruno’s wine that Luca was no longer sure he should be drinking.
“For all our sakes,” Luca said with a wink.
The fork in Bruno’s hand stopped midway to the plate below it.
“A wink? For me? From Luca Bernardi? My God, I must already be dead. Although I never expected to go to heaven.”
Luca swallowed his bite with a playful sneer, but before he could find an acceptable rebuttal, Bruno continued, “Are you flirting with me, Luca?”
After a drink from his water, Luca smiled. “I think we both know better than that.”
“New collar?” Bruno eyed the bag next to the table bearing the mark of the most exclusive leathermaker in the country.
“Yes,” Luca said with warning.
“For the little blonde banker?” Bruno’s tongue rolled around his cheek and over his top teeth. He didn’t wait for a reply and asked, “What color? Mmm… Let me guess.” The old man perked up and stabbed the las
t bite of his starter then sat the fork next to the plate. He stared at Luca as if he possessed the psychic power to read minds.
Not going to work.
“Definitely not black. You’ve always been partial to blue.” He tapped his empty wine glass and the movement brought a refill from the waiter.
His guessing would be futile. Luca had never given a white collar before and he suspected he never would again. Purple, various shades of blue, pink and many browns. Certainly not red. But white? There had never been a sub he’d trained who’d received white. The meaning, while Luca understood it on a cellular level, remained deep inside him. It was in a safe spot he refused to acknowledge that he held the key to unlock.
“Pink,” Luca lied, “like her rosy skin.”
“Oh, my dear friend, you truly have a gift.”
Luca tilted his head in acceptance. “A compliment from the Dom of Doms. Master of Masters.” Luca grinned. “Thank you.”
Bruno raised his hand and pressed two fingers under his chin. The small drama, the ruse, was typical. Comical. And welcome. “Not dead,” he said with a quick shrug. “You calling me ‘Master’? I was sure of it.”
They made way for the next dish and instead of the lingering issue of Noah Paulick’s membership, which Luca had hoped to discuss with Bruno, they spoke of politics and the weather. After an espresso and the bill Luca insisted on paying, the two walked out into the bright fall sun. Luca waited until Bruno was secure in his car service and watched the dark sedan pull away. With the thick paper bag dangling from his wrist, he strolled down the bustling sidewalk to the parking garage where he’d left his car.
Once inside the clean security of the Maserati, he opened the bag and unwrapped the collar from its tissue paper. His fingers brushed the engraved letters with care.
Sotto.
His sotto. His, for now. He blinked and re-wrapped the leather band. It was necessary. Protection and safety. There was no way he could risk any other Dom touching his cara. Speaking to his cara. And the only way to gauge where she wanted to go next, was to take her into the club. But she had to be protected. It was essential.
