Page 74

4

Ian keeps sliding hisfinger in and out of my body. As he does, he uses his other hand to start gently rubbing my clit. The movement is swift and firm. It’s exactly what I need.

I’m starting to realize that everything Ian does is very carefully controlled. Whether he’s fingering me or planning an abduction, he always knows exactly how hard to go. He knows where to touch, where to move, and how to play.

I’m also learning that he’s so far out of my league that it’s insane. There’s a part of me that fears he’s going to wake up tomorrow and realize that this isn’t what he wants, thatI’mnot what he wants. Is it so twisted that I don’t want that to happen? I want Ian to keep wanting me, desiring me.

And yeah, I want him to keep fucking me.

“Come for me, Rose,” he tells me. His voice is steely. A lot of guys don’t care if their girls come, and sometimes Ian doesn’t let me have an orgasm the second I want to, but most of the time, he seems to like when I do.

Why is that?

What makes him so different?

Is this another control thing?

Or is he secretly kind?

No, he’s not secretly nice. I know that much. I also know that I don’t particularly care if he’s mean to me just as long as I get to keep feeling like this.

“Come for me, you dirty slut,” he hisses. “Show me what a bad girl you are, Rose. Show me.”

And for some reason, that does it. For some seriously fucked-up reason, those are the words my body needs to totally come undone for Ian Salucci in the middle of his room, and an orgasm rushes over me that’s the most chaotic and terrifying thing I’ve ever felt.

I come for Ian.

I seem to lose all sense of myself when I come apart. Somehow, I don’t fall, but I start to get dizzy. When I try to lower myself back down to the floor, Ian grabs me and instead carries me to the bed, tosses me on my stomach, and yanks my legs back so they’re dangling over the side of the bed. Then he shoves my legs apart and starts fingering me from behind once again.

“No,” I whisper. I don’t know if I can take anymore of this. My body is so sensitive. My pussy feels like it’s on fire. I justknowI’m going to be sore if he keeps this up and I can’t do it anymore. Ian slaps my ass and keeps up the sweet, sweet torture until I come again. Then he actually laughs.

“I knew you could come again, flower.”

For some reason, even this seems slightly mean.

“It’s too much,” I whisper.

“It’s never too much.”

He starts taking off his clothes. I can hear him, but I don’t move. I don’t try to look or get a sneak peek of Ian’s body. I already know what he looks like. Perfect. That’s what he looks like. He’s got this body that’s hard and solid. Unlike many of the men in our world, Ian keeps his body looking fantastic.

Maybe that’s part of the reason everyone is so scared of him. He actually looks like he could beat the shit out of anyone who upset him. Most of the other mafia guys I know have people who do that for them – including my dad.