Page 13 of His Playground (Owning Vegas #2)

Chapter Twelve

T ime to make this more of a marriage? No. He can’t be serious. But he is. Carlo never says anything he doesn’t mean. Well, apart from the whole I love you more than myself bullshit he used to tell me.

“Carlo, don’t do this.” I try to worm my way out from under him. All I manage to do is get more tangled up.

His hands have my shirt over my head. The asshole doesn’t take it all the way off, though. No, my arms end up above me with my wrists rolled up in the fabric. I don’t know what he’s done but I can’t get my hands free.

“You want this. I know you do. You’re denying yourself, Antonia, out of principle. But you see, a lifetime is a real fucking long time to be celibate.”

“Who said I was planning on staying faithful to you?” I spit out at him. “Isn’t that our thing? Cheating on each other? Or is it only okay for you to do it?”

“Sure, go ahead and try. In fact, I’d love you to, just to show you what will happen to the poor fucker you choose.” His fingers reach underneath me and he unclasps my bra. The straps then end up tangled at my wrists along with my shirt. “Fuck, you’ve always had the most perfect tits.”

“Yeah, so perfect you had to go and find another pair,” I throw at him. If I keep reminding myself that he cheated, if I keep picturing that image in my head, I can stop myself from enjoying his touch. I can ignore the way my body lights up, the goose bumps he leaves along my skin.

I don’t like it. I don’t.

“I didn’t touch her.” His words are a whisper. I almost think I imagined them, but I didn’t. I heard that. His mouth closes around one of my breasts.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t like this. I don’t like this… I… Oh shit…

My back arches. My core tingles with appreciation of what his tongue is doing to my nipple. He cups my other breast in his hand, his fingers pinching and twisting, and I swear I almost come on the spot.

“Carlo, please.” I don’t know if I’m asking him to stop or if I’m begging him for more. His mouth moves to the other breast, and then he starts his assault all over again. “I don’t…”

Maybe I can imagine it’s someone else. I can picture Superman or something. This isn’t Carlo, the cheating scumbag, who’s touching me. This is Superman. He’s just saved me from an untimely death and is now showing me that I’m still alive.

His mouth moves up my chest, along the side of my neck. His hand wraps around my throat. “Open your eyes, Antonia. You’re not escaping this. You are not fighting us,” he says.

I shake my head.

“That’s how you want to play it, fine, but you chose this,” he tells me.

I feel his weight shift south, his hands reach under my skirt, and then my panties are sliding down my legs. Superman is removing my panties. I keep picturing the red cape. It’s an odd fantasy, but it’s mine.

My legs are spread open and then I feel it, his tongue on my most sensitive part. “Holy shit.”

Superman, Superman, Superman. I repeat the name in my head. Superman is going down on me. It’s not the artful work of Carlo Bianchi. Nope, I remember how skilled he was at this, but this isn’t him.

“Fuck, you taste so damn good. I’ve missed this,” he says. I keep my eyes closed, but I can’t shut out his voice.

His breath whispers over my clit, his fingers spread the lips of my pussy wide open, and then his tongue runs up the length of me.

Shit. My entire body shudders. And something switches inside me.

I don’t know if it’s my mind playing tricks on me or if I’m trying to justify why I’m allowing him to touch me.

But right now, I don’t care. I deserve this.

If I have to be tied to this man for the rest of my life, the least he can do is give me orgasms, right? I don’t have to like him to allow him to pleasure me. I just have to lie here, think about Superman, and let the orgasms wash over me.

I can feel it. I’m so close. It’s there. I can almost reach out and touch it. And then…

He stops. He doesn’t say anything, just stops. His fingers are still holding me open. What the hell?

My head lifts and I glare down at him. “What the hell, Carlo?” I ask aloud. “Why would you stop?”

“Keep your eyes open, Antonia. I want you to watch. You can call out Superman all you like, but even he couldn’t keep me from you.” Carlo smirks. “If you close those eyes, I stop,” he says before his tongue is back on me.

He keeps his glare locked on my face. Holy shit, did I say Superman out loud? I don’t think I did. My head lulls back, hitting the mattress when pleasure radiates through my body again. And then he stops again . I look back up.

“Eyes on me,” he says.

“Argh, either finish what you started or leave me alone so I can finish myself!” I yell at him.

“Thought you’d never ask.” The asshole grins before he dives in. And this time, he doesn’t hold back. He keeps licking me until I’m falling apart. An orgasm tears through me, my entire body tingling with pleasure. “So fucking good,” he says, coming back up for air.

His lips slam down on mine. I don’t fight him, because… I don’t actually know why. But I let myself have this moment. This kiss. Carlo knows how to kiss. It’s intoxicating, almost like a drug. A high I’ve never found elsewhere.

Before I know it, my hands are undoing his pants. I need more. I want more. I don’t care how shitty I’m going to feel afterwards. I want the pleasure he can give me now. I’ll deal with the self-hate later.

I push at his chest and roll us over, undoing his zipper as I release his cock.

Wrapping my hand around it. He’s hard, the tip leaking precum.

He always did get off on my pleasure. It’s one of the things I loved about him.

He was never selfish in the bedroom. My pleasure was always more important to him than his own.

Well, until it wasn’t, I guess.

Pushing that thought to the background of my mind, I line myself up and sink down onto him. His cock stretches me out. There’s a slight sting but, damn, it feels so good. My head dips and my hands land on his chest as I start to rise and fall on top of him.

“Oh god!” I moan as I continue to use him to pleasure myself.

Carlo’s grip tightens on my hips. He moves upwards to meet my rhythm. “Fuck me,” he groans.

“I am.” I laugh and continue to use him. That’s what I’m doing. Using him to make myself feel better. It has nothing to do with him.

Carlo flips me over. “Let’s change that,” he says, lifting one of my legs and resting my ankle on his shoulder.

My other leg wraps around his waist, my heel digging into his ass as he starts thrusting in and out of me. Hitting just the right spot. Over and over again.

“Better than I remember,” Carlo grinds out between clenched teeth. “Your pussy is choking my cock so fucking good.”

I don’t want to hear his voice. I don’t need his filthy mouth setting me off. His hand comes down and closes around my throat. I instantly feel myself getting wetter. He notices it too. His fingers tighten ever so slightly.

“You are mine. This pussy is mine. Till death do us part,” he says.

Till death. I refuse to believe that is the only way out of this marriage. There has to be something else. I just haven’t found it yet.

“Shut up and make me come,” I tell him.

Carlo smirks. “With pleasure.” He picks up his pace, and before I know it, I’m coming. Again. And so is he. His body collapses next to mine.

“Thanks for that. Now get my hands out of this mess.” I hold out my arms to him.

Carlo untangles my wrists and then I climb off the bed, swooping up my phone. I walk into the bathroom and lock the door. Post-sex cuddling and pillow talk are not happening here.

I turn on the shower, and while I’m waiting for the water to get warm, my phone lights up with an incoming text.

Unknown:

I have something that will tear your marriage into pieces… Are you ready to pay the price?

Me:

What’s the price?

Unknown:

The man you love…