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I lean down to her ear and kiss it softly. “No, they’re going to watch you come.”

“Oh…” she gasps.

“Now, keep walking. We’re almost at the car.”

We move together for a moment, but when we reach the parked cars, I stop her from entering and ramp up the vibrator to the highest setting. Daniela fights to contain her reactions, but it doesn’t take long before she succumbs to the sensations. I wrap her in my arms, relishing the shivers that course through her body.

“It’s…ah…ahh…” she groans.

“It feels fantastic, right?”

She nods, a loud moan escaping her as she grinds against me, unbothered by the people around us.

“Wait until we get home,” I say with a groan. “I’m going to take my time with you until you’re clawing at my back.”

“I need that,” she whispers. “I need to feel your cock right now.”

“Not right now, princess.” I chuckle, feeling the heat of desire bubbling beneath my skin. “Remember what I told you? I’m the one in total control right now, and you do what I want. Is that clear?”

“Ye—yes.”

I sink my teeth into her neck and suck, leaving a mark that sends a rush through me. My cock tightens in my pants at her reaction, and I’m tempted to pull it out and stroke myself right then and there. I want to bring her to her knees, to feel her take me deep and long. There’s so much I want to do, but for now, I let her ride out her pleasure in my arms.

And damn, it feels fucking perfect.

Chapter 19

Daniela

The kitchen is colder than I expected, the walls stark and uninviting, like everything else in this place.

I pull the sleeves of my sweater over my hands and squint at the overhead bright light.

The counters are clean—almost clinical—but it has a stove and ingredients, and right now, that’s enough.

I open the fridge and start pulling out vegetables, meat, and anything remotely fresh. My hands move automatically, peeling, chopping, dicing, and trying to drown out the echo of my own thoughts.

Behind me, the faint creak of the door reminds me that I’m not alone.

“You sure this is a good idea?”

I don’t turn around. He’s leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching me like I might sprout horns and start cackling at any second.

“Cooking isn’t exactly high-stakes, is it?” I say, tossing a carrot into the growing pile of diced vegetables. “Unless you think I’m planning to sneak a knife in your pasta.”

He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smirk. His face is like stone, as usual.

“You could.” He steps into the room, his boots heavy against the tiled floor. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried.”

I roll my eyes and turn back to the cabinet. “Relax, Remo. I’m trying to make myself useful, not commit murder.”

There’s a pause, one long enough for me to feel his eyes burning into my back.

“You don’t need to be useful,” he finally says. “You just need to look pretty, spend all my money, and fuck me.”

I stop mid-motion. Slowly, I turn to face him, arching a brow. “Wow, sexist much? You always this charming, or is this some special effort just for me?”

His lips twitch—almost a smirk, but not quite. “Depends. Is it working?”