Page 95 of My Dark Fairy Tale

The atmosphere in the kitchen stilled for one vibrating moment.

“No,” Raffa told me, stepping away from me.

Carmine held up his hands to shield his fine suit. “Assolutamente no.”

Martina and I shared a look before both reaching for the huge bowls of sliced tomatoes in front of us.

“Food fight!” I hollered, turning to hurl a handful of tomatoes at Raffa.

They landed with a splat on his back as he twisted away from me. He froze, staring in shock at the hit, before lifting his gaze to mine.

“You will regret that,” he promised.

“You’ll have to catch me first,” I declared, grabbing the bowl and then running away with it.

Behind me, I could hear Ludo and Carmine hurling insults at each other in Italian and Martina’s wild cackle of delight.

A second later, the steady fall of Raffa’s feet as he chased after me.

“Attenta, cerbiatta, il cacciatore viene a prenderti,” Raffa called after me.

Careful, little fawn, the hunter is coming for you.

I hid behind the corner at the entrance to the music room, trying to calm my breathing so he wouldn’t hear me as he approached.

He stalked into the room like the hunter he’d claimed to be, so I should have known I couldn’t catch him by surprise, but I tried anyway.

I jumped out, trying to lift the bowl of tomatoes over his head, but he caught me around the wrist and wrenched it down so the bowl wavered and fell between us, coating our torsos in multicolored heritage tomatoes.

Raffa blinked at the mess I’d made of both of us and the terra-cotta tiles at our feet before sighing dramatically. “I warned you, little fawn.”

I screeched as he ducked, the steel bowl falling with a clang to the floor. He put a shoulder to my belly and lifted me in a fireman’s carry before taking off on firm strides down the corridor to our bedroom.

I banged on his back. “I’m needed in the kitchen, Raffa.”

“You’re needed over my knee, Vera,” he corrected. “Thanks to your little stunt, I now have an insatiable need to see this fine ass as red as a tomato.”

“People will arrive soon,” I argued, even though something in my belly heated at the idea of being spanked. It wasn’t something we had done yet, but it was a fantasy I’d had for years, touching myself at night and imagining what some faceless, handsome older guy might do to me if I acted out.

Probably a classic fantasy for a repressed good girl like me to have, but that didn’t make it any less sexy.

Raffa tossed the door shut behind us and dropped me gently to my feet, immediately stepping out of my reach.

“Hands on the door, feet shoulder width apart. Tilt those hips to present that beautiful ass for me,” he ordered in that fire-and-ice voice that made shivers pour down my spine.

I hesitated for only a moment, because I was covered in tomato gunk, before I did as he asked. Being in that position alone was so erotic, arranging my body to his liking, obeying his orders even if it meant pain because I knew, always, in the end he would make it worth it.

There was a sudden slap a split second before I felt the impact sink sharp roots into my backside. He had spanked me through my skirt, but the blow still left a mild heat in its wake.

“How is that?” he asked, running his nose down the shell of my ear.

“Good,” I said, but my mouth was suddenly too dry, so it didn’t come out right, and I had to try again. “Good.”

“Va bene.Because that was only a little taste,” he muttered darkly before he grabbed the bottom of my ruined shirt and pulled. “Arms.”

I raised them so he could rid me of the material, my damp nipples beading in the air-conditioned room. With another quick tug, my apron and skirt fell to the floor at my feet.

“Step out.”