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That darkness returns to his face, raw and unyielding. His gaze is so intense it sends a shiver down my spine—bordering on fear, but laced with something deeper. Something I crave.

“But like I told you,Bambina,” he murmurs, his voice thick with command. “Actions have consequences.”

My breath stutters.

“Are you ready for the consequences of yours?”

“Yes.”

His lips curve into a slow, knowing smile. “Maybe you think you do.” He tilts his head. “Pull up your skirt.”

A tremor runs through me. I don’t hesitate. I obey.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Then, with deliberate ease, he steps closer. “Get on the desk.”

I slide onto the smooth wood, but before I can settle, his hands grip my ankles, pulling them up and apart. The shift sends me sprawling backward, my weight caught on my hands, my body open to him.

He jerks my knees open, his eyes locking onto my soaked panties.

“Next time anyone tells you to do something dangerous,” he says, voice low and commanding, “you tell them to fuck off.”

His hand moves to the desk drawer, pulling out a pair of scissors. The metal glints under the light, and my breath catches.

“Then,” he continues, hooking a finger under the crotch of my panties, “you come to your husband and report.”

With a swift snip, the fabric falls apart, useless now.

“You’re my wife.” His words are possessive, edged with something deeper. Before I can process them, his fingers thrust inside me, stretching me open. I gasp, my body arching, but he doesn’t stop.

“I’m responsible for you.” His fingers curl, stroking that spot inside me he always finds with devastating precision. His thumb circles my clit, slow, deliberate. “And I own you. Do you want to come?”

Heat coils in my stomach, pleasure building fast. I grip the desk panting. “Please—let me come.”

He stills, his touch maddeningly light now. “The answer is, ‘If it pleases you.’”

“If it pleases you,” I gasp.

“It doesn’t. His voice is dark, edged with something wicked. “You’ve been a very bad girl,Bambina. Very bad.”

He pulls his fingers from me, glistening with my arousal, and presses them against my lower lip. “Clean them off.”

I obey without hesitation, wrapping my lips around them, sucking my taste from his skin. His eyes darken as he watches me.

“I need to teach you what to expect from your husband,” he murmurs, withdrawing his fingers with a slow drag across my tongue. “Show you how you deserve to be treated.”

He waits.

I stare up at him, my body bared, aching, desperate to please him, but unsure of what he wants.

“Now, what do you say?”

I don’t know the answer. I just look at him, my tits and wet cunt open for him, wondering how to please this godly creature.

“You say, ‘Thank you.’”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

A slow, satisfied smirk tugs at his lips. “Good girl.”