Page 41 of Caruso (Vegas Mafia #3)

Chapter Forty-One

Taylor

I never expected such a brutal history, and I’m sad for their loss. Devastated for them and angry and fearful all at the same time. It took a lot for Tommaso to open his heart and let me in, and as I snuggle against him as we stare over the mountains, I’m guessing things have changed.

I can’t leave now, not after that. It’s made me realize just how alike we all are. They may enjoy wealth, but they are as emotionally damaged as I am, which puts us on an equal footing.

Perhaps I can help them heal. They have already started the process with me, and Tommaso is right. They can all offer me something different, so why not give it a shot?

After a while, Tommaso kisses my neck and whispers, “Come, we should eat. It’s been hours since the breakfast you never ate. You must be hungry.”

I love how he takes my hand in his and walks beside me on the way down. We could be any other couple hiking, not the fucked-up duo we certainly are.

When we arrive back at the house, I kick off my sneakers and head into the huge living area, once again marveling at the view.

Tommaso disappears for a moment and then returns with an abrupt, “Follow me; the lunch has been set out in the dining room.”

I do as he says, and when I head inside another doorway, I blink in surprise at the oversized table stretching along the room, staring out at another stunning view.

A huge fireplace dominates one end, but it isn’t lit; it’s not cold enough for that. There is a painting above of a beautiful woman, and I instantly know who she is.

I stand before it and smile. “You are very much alike.”

His hand slips into mine.

“She got all the personality and the looks. I am happy to admit that.”

His voice is soft and emotional, and I squeeze his hand and say casually, “So, how does this domination thing work?”

He jerks his head my way, and the sadness in his eyes is replaced with dark power, and every part of me clenches because he wasn’t wrong. He is a dominant.

“It’s better if I show you.”

“What, now?”

“Why not?”

He turns and nods toward the table.

“Take any seat and place your arms behind the back of it. ”

A shiver of expectation passes through me as I do as he says, facing the mountain view that I can’t seem to get enough of.

He whips his belt from his jeans and fastens it around my wrists, and I cast my mind back to when Giorgio did the same.

He grasps a napkin and ties it around my eyes, and my heart beats so quickly I swear I can hear it echoing off the mountain range.

“Open your mouth.”

His voice is low, deep and husky and sends a shiver down my spine, caressing the lust inside me that is building by the second.

He drops a delicious bite of smoked salmon into my mouth and orders, “Chew it slowly. I want to witness every turn of your lips and bob of your throat.”

I do as he says, my senses heightened as I savor the flavor of something I never caught sight of.

He feeds me many delicacies that are out of this world, sometimes with his fingers, other times with his mouth.

The fact I can’t touch or see stimulates my other senses and makes it even more enjoyable.

“Sip this wine.”

I neglect to inform him I can’t stand the stuff but do as he says; it’s the name of the game, anyway.

The flavor of deep, spicy berries coat my taste buds, and I groan my appreciation, adopting a sudden love of them.

His fingers filter through my hair as he pushes a pastry into my mouth, his lips kissing my neck as I attempt to swallow the food.

It’s so sensual I am struggling to concentrate on one thing at a time, and as he feeds me with one hand, his other hand plays with my body like a musician practicing his craft.

The meal is spent in silence; only smell, touch and taste are allowed. I am delirious on good food, fine wine and desire, and I never realized a meal could be so decadent.

When we reach dessert, his hand drifts under my t-shirt as he feeds me the sweetest fruit and rubs my hardened nipple that strains for his touch.

A small moan is enough to tell him I’m loving every minute of this, and he whispers, “Sometimes the best meals continue in the bedroom.”

I nod, desperate to get there, and yet he doesn’t untie me, merely pulls my arms over the top of the chair, the blindfold still obscuring my view. He leads me across the room, informing me of any hazards, and as I am led up the stairs, I am positively quivering with expectation.

I know we are in his room due to the masculine scent as we head inside. It reeks of him, and I take a deep breath, allowing it to drift through my senses like a powerful love potion.

His voice is gruff, almost defying me to challenge him as he growls, “Kneel.”

My heart hammers as I do as he says, and he stands before me, so close I could lean forward and make contact with his legs.

“Do you trust me, princess?”

I think for a moment and then nod. “I do trust you To–”

His hand grips my chin, and he tilts my face up to him and growls, “Sir. You call me Sir as a sign of respect.”

I swallow hard. “Sir.”

He drops me and moves away, and I immediately feel the loss, and I almost think he’s gone. I’m left kneeling for an eternity, and then his voice comes from somewhere behind me.

“I’m going to undress you. If you want me to stop at any time, the safe word is freedom.”

“As in the ranch?”

I chuckle softly, and he snaps, “Do not speak unless answering my questions. You haven’t earned the right to question me.”

Fuck, why does that melt me inside? I am seriously fucked in the head.

He sweeps me into his arms, and I gasp as he lowers me onto the bed. “Lie still. I’m taking your clothes off now.”

I say nothing, anticipation high as he slowly peels off every layer on my body, as if stripping away my shame with it.

I can’t see him, but he obviously sees the whole of me, and the fact I can’t witness his expression is strangely liberating.

It’s as if I’m alone, free and unabandoned, and as his fingers glide over my skin, his thumb applies pressure in certain spots that cause me to moan with desire .

The rustle of his clothes joining mine tells me he has only one thing in mind, and I wonder if I would be a super slut if I opened my legs, desperate to let him in already. I am officially corrupted, and yet I don’t give a fuck. From virgin to super whore on a crash course in depravity.

I squeak as he presses his lips to my clit without warning and drags his tongue down the slit, groaning his appreciation.

“So sweet, so ready for me, princess. I could get used to this.”

I smile, but that is all the reaction he gets, and I’m glad I can’t see him as he prises my swollen skin aside and plunges three fingers deep inside me.

“Oh my God.” I groan as he pumps in and out, curling them inside and as he fucks me with his fingers, his thumb presses down softly on my clit, his tongue circling it and lapping up the result.

I physically ache for him. To replace his fingers with his cock that I wish I could hold, kiss and caress as carefully as he is giving me pleasure.

I want to make him happy; it’s suddenly the most important thing in my world, and any reservations I may have had about domination are filed away as things to be forgotten.

I’m officially a submissive now— his submissive and unlike the pleasure I get in challenging Giorgio and accepting the more loving side of Matteo, I kind of want Tommaso’s cool loving. It empties my mind of anything else, and as I come apart on his fingers, my only regret is it wasn’t his cock.