Page 49 of Bastard

“Fuck,” I hear him growl.

“It was a ridiculous request.”

His eyes lift to lock with mine. His nostrils flare and the air suddenly ripens with tension. I called his order ridiculous. A man who’d knife you in the stomach for looking the wrong way.

It could be the sangria. Or the sharp contrast between my earlier fantasy and theliterally glaringreality. Whatever the cause, I act, diving sideways into the pool before he can even mouth the word Rome.

I swim like a competitive athlete to the opposite side of the pool. But as I’m about to haul myself onto the deck, he pins me in place against the pool wall.

“Tell me again who’s ridiculous.”

I poked the beast and woke him up.

“I’ve sent away my men and turned the cameras on deck off.”

“What?” I gasp.

“You wore that T-shirt for a reason.”

I wiggle my body, trying to escape him. But another gasp escapes me when I feel his hard erection pressed against my ass. “Which is?” I croak.

“To provoke me.”

“I didn’t agree to humble myself like everyone else does around you.”

He pushes forward, making sure I feel his hard length. He forks fingers through my hair and forces me to bow my head forward, exposing the back of my neck.

I jump at the sensation of his lips gliding across the sensitive cords of my neck.

His lips ... Dios, his lips.

He sucks hard and I come up onto my toes.

“What are you doing?” I manage.

“Reminding myself what Rome was like.”

He presses his palm against my stomach and the tips of his fingers dip beneath the elastic of my underwear. I’m certain he feels the scars, yet he says nothing, his lips grazing my erogenous zone.

Without warning, he pushes his hand downward to cup my mound with his palm. I tremble beneath him as he curls a middle finger inside. I move against his hand, deepening the delicious friction between his palm and my clit. I’m as wet as the waves of water rolling around us.

His finger finds my G-spot.

“Why do this?” I gasp, pleasure building despite the warning bells ringing in my mind. “Why now?”

His teeth nip my earlobe. “You’re not asking the right questions.”

I grit my teeth. “Are you going to fuck me then disappear again?”

Silence, until he softly answers, “When the job is done, Luciana, it’ll be your choice what comes next.”

He curls a second finger into me and my moan echoes off the pool tile.

“Nmimpi comes next.”

“We’ll see.”

He kisses my neck, then my earlobe, then my temple. Sweet, innocent kisses, while he finger-fucks me with such force I struggle not to call out his name.