Page 24 of Ruthless Lord

Charlie

I should be ashamed of myself.

There is so much wrong with this situation.

For one, my intentions were not pure.

And for another, they still aren’t.

But when Stefano looks at me like that, like I’m the most pure and beautiful woman in the entire world, it messes me up. It makes my brain do stupid things. Like touch him.

Like ask about the stupid door.

“It’s already locked,” he confirms, not moving but completely tensed. He’s like a predator struggling to stay still in the underbrush. Ready to spring but unable to loosen himself. “I need you to do something now.”

“What’s that?”

“Kiss me before I break my fucking promise again.”

Shit.

This isn’t what I expected from today.

But it destroys my resolve, and I lunge across the tiny space between us, smashing my lips to his.

It’s like this every time.

I keep thinking there’s no way kissing him could possibly feel as good as I remember. I convince myself it’s just bullshit. That it’s a trick of memory or just a particular situation that heightened everything.

I’m completely wrong.

Because it’s even better than I thought.

His lips dominate mine the second I pierce the distance between us. He groans into my mouth, the most sensual, needy sound I’ve ever heard in my life. His hands come up, and I pull back just a little, just for a second?—

“You can touch me,” I gasp, moaning the words. “Just for right now.”

He smothers my mouth with his, and his big hand grips my hair, taking total control. I give myself over to him, wanting this more than I could’ve imagined. Last night, I nearly gave in and threw myself into his arms. Now I’m finally finishing what we started.

But I’m also doing this out of guilt.

His taste is whiskey and mint. He pulls me from the chair and shoves me down onto the top of his desk, knocking over a keyboard and sending pens and paper scattering to the floor.

He doesn’t give a shit. Stefano clearly hates this place, and I can’t blame him.

An office is all wrong. Putting him in management is like making a lion the mayor. He’s not built for this kind of job.

But kissing me? Kissing my neck, biting my lower lip, pulling my shirt off and throwing it aside with a vicious flick of his wrist?

That’s what he was made for. The man undresses me ravenously until I’m topless.

His mouth finds my nipples and licks my swollen buds, sucking them as they pebble between his teeth.

I arch into his embrace and tug his shirt off, wanting to see his tattoos and his incredible body.

An ache fills my core as I run my fingers down the web of scars and burns that spider across his chest and arms.

He’s been through so much. This is a man with experience.

Sometimes I forget he’s so much older, at least until I see the network of wounds spread over his gorgeous body.

These aren’t the show muscles of a gym rat.

These are the arms, the chest, the stomach of a machine honed and tuned to violence and killing.

His fingers dart down my flanks, holding at my hips. He squeezes my ass, tugging me closer.

“You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?” I tease, my head tossed slightly back. He’s touching me everywhere, indulging in the sudden freedom.

“Every day.” He touches my arms, shoulders, wrists, fingers.

He glides a thumb along my inner thigh to the hem of my jeans and deftly undoes the button and the fly.

My heart leaps, worried he might find what’s jammed into my back pocket, but he doesn’t seem like he’s paying close attention to my clothes.

Only what’s under them. “Every second of every hour.” He tugs my pants forward, and I lift my hips, letting them come off, relieved when they hit the floor and are forgotten.

“I’m not normally a man good at keeping myself under control. ”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m a man of my word. But when it comes to this?” He leans back and looks at me, hunger blazing in his eyes. “I’m fucking on edge every time you’re around.”

“You seem fine though, even when we’re in bed.”

“Ever wonder why I take long showers at night?”

My eyes widen a fraction. “Don’t tell me you’re?—”

“Think about this.” He kisses me hard, and I thrill at the thought of him stroking himself again to my memory. “And this and every inch of you.” He licks my nipples and runs a hand between my legs, making me purr with pleasure.

“I almost feel sorry for you,” I whisper as he drops down, kissing my hips.

This is wrong. It’s so wrong. If he knew what was in my pocket, he’d rather strangle me than lick me.

But I’m pathetic and powerless to stop him.

I grip his thick hair, marveling at all the gray beginning to show.

“Except I’m thinking maybe it’s better to make you wait. ”

“I’m not a delayed gratification kind of man.” His mouth runs along my panties before he roughly shoves them aside.

I let out a soft moan as his mouth finds my slit. He’s gentle and teasing at first. Nibbling and nipping. Kissing up and down, tongue teasing me apart.

“Here you are, taking your sweet time though,” I murmur, my eyes rolling back.

“That’s only because I’m greedy. I want to stretch this newfound privilege out as long as I can.

” He moves my panties aside more and tongues me top to bottom.

I shiver then arch into him, gripping his hair harder.

His mouth overwhelms me, licking and lapping, sucking with these incredibly sinful noises.

His fingers join in, deft and trained, flexible and quick, gliding deep into my pussy as his mouth continues its dance.

Pleasure blossoms like fire. I’m losing my mind, only dimly aware that we’re in his damn office in the middle of the workday. I grind against his mouth, feeling just as greedy as him.

“Don’t stop,” I beg, needing this to keep going.

I’ve never wanted so badly before in my life.

Stefano rips apart all my defenses, shreds the distance I keep between myself and the world, and turns me into his mewling little pet.

It’s pathetic, I know, and there’s a reason I made this no touching rule.

Otherwise, I’d give in to his every dark whim.

I don’t trust myself. I never have.

And now I’m spiraling again. Deeper and deeper into his kiss as he devours my pussy, growling as he does it, praising my body and my taste and everything about me, sending my mind into overdrive as the pressure builds.

This is wrong, this is all wrong.

“Fuck me,” I plead with him, dancing right at that edge, playing with the abyss and afraid of dropping. “Fuck me, Stefano, please .”

“You’re so damn polite, but not yet,” he snarls, gliding two big fingers in deep. I cry out, pulling him closer. “I need you to come for me. Get nice and fucking soaked. And then you’ll be ready for me. Otherwise I’ll rip you to fucking shreds, baby.”

Oh, god, the thought of his massive cock tearing me to pieces finally is the nudge I needed.

I shatter against his mouth as his fingers keep grinding into me, his tongue licking and sucking as I finish in a thunderclap, and then he’s kissing me again, the taste of my pussy on his tongue, salty and honey and warm.

His belt comes off, his jeans next, and I desperately stroke his dick with both hands as he struggles to free himself from his boxer briefs.

“I want to look into your eyes when you come this time,” he whispers, nose nudging mine, his thick tip gliding up and down my slit.

“Stop teasing and fuck me ,” I beg, and Stefano gives me the slightest smile.

“Since you’re so damn polite?—”

He moves his hips forward and slowly breaks into me.

I gasp, arching, grinding closer, wanting more and more and more.

He fills me, sliding in deeper and deeper until he’s up to the hilt and I’m right next to shattering all over again.

I’ve never been so full, never been so stretched.

Never felt so taken and controlled and fucked in my life.

His hips rock as his mouth finds mine. He kisses me, smothering my mouth, wet and delicious as he claps into me.

Our hips press together and the desk trembles under me, but he’s not slowing.

He fucks me ravenously, hungrily, rough and deep like he’s been barely holding back.

I dig my fingers into his ass, and he responds by pulling my hair.

I scratch his shoulders, and he bites my nipples.

I chew on his lower lip, and he fucks me roughly, pounding into my tight pussy.

“All fucking mine,” he snarls in my ear. “Every inch. Every drop. Every fucking moan and all your orgasms from here until forever, they’re all mine , and I’m all yours.”

“God, yes, you’re mine.” My brain’s blazing with ecstasy.

I’m deep in another world. It’s filthy and glorious and everything I’ve always been missing.

This pure physical bliss is something I’ve been searching for all my life.

Simple, real pleasure, untainted by family or money or politics. Physical, animal, and immediate.

I could grind myself into him. I could lose my mind, and that’d be alright. I want to be his, all his, and nothing else right now as he fucks me into oblivion.

“Say you’re my good girl,” he whispers, pounding in deep with slick strokes. I’m so wet he slides in and out, obscenely making damp sounds. “Say you’re fucking filthy for me. Tell me you’ll do what I ask. You’ll cross any lines. You’ll be mine .”

“I’m your good girl,” I whimper, kissing his chest, tonguing a puckered scar near his heart. “I’m all yours, all yours, all?—”

I arch my back. He strokes, hitting the right rhythm, and it’s finally too much.

I break for him. I shatter, god, I’m destroyed, as I come harder than I’ve ever come in my life before. I see spots and feel like my heart’s going to give out, and I feel him finish with me, growling like an animal as he fills me to the brim, coming deep between my legs.

“Fuck, Charlie,” he whispers, kissing me, greedy. “God, you’re too much. You’re too fucking much.”

I kiss him back, dizzy and hazy. “I get that a lot.”

He snarls, licking my lower lip, holding me like he doesn’t want to let me go. Probably because once he does, the rules are back in place.

I don’t move. I don’t speak. I stay with him softening slowly inside me, my face crammed to his chest, breathing in the smell of our sex.

“You’re allowed to come to work with me whenever you want.” He runs his fingers through my hair.

“Don’t you have work things to do though?”

“I have no idea.”

“Typical boss. Getting all the credit while putting in none of the actual effort.”

“Trust me, if I could get out of here, I would.”

“Why are you in charge, anyway?”

“Luca trusted me with this. He and Enzo are off running some other job and it was left to me. This was a promotion.”

“You don’t feel like that though.”

“No, not at all.”

“Which is why you fight. To try to get back the old you.”

“Pretty much.”

“How’s that going?”

“Not great. Doesn’t last for long.” He lets out a long sigh. “Maybe it’s time to accept I’m not the same young man I used to be.”

“That’s not so bad, right? Everyone changes. It’s just what happens in life.”

“You’re right.” He looks down at me and kisses me softly. “How are you changing, Charlie?”

I don’t answer. I’m not sure what to tell him. Guilt hits me again, followed by a flood of shame.

I didn’t come here today because I wanted to get to know my husband better. I came here to spy on him.

My plan was to get as much information as I could, or at least to get a good idea of where I need to go looking later on.

But the more time I spent here talking to him, and later following Giorgio around, the more that guilt festered and grew rotten and septic. I couldn’t stand what I was doing, and in the end, I stopped looking. I decided to be what I was pretending to be: just a curious wife and nothing more.

I’m still a filthy spy. I’m a traitor and a liar. Stefano’s done nothing but follow my rule and tell me the truth, while I’ve been maneuvering behind his back this whole time.

And the sickest part is I like being here with him.

I don’t want to find a way out of this marriage.

Not right now, anyway.

Maybe we’re not perfect together. God knows Stefano was never my type and he’s way too old for me. But as I get to know him, I see a man of experience, a man who knows what he is and desperately needs to find a way to get back to himself. I can deeply sympathize with that.

In so many ways, I’m going through the same thing. He’s struggling to get back to himself while I’m fighting to find out who I really am.

“We should get dressed,” I say eventually, ignoring his question.

He grunts in reply. “I’m the boss. Nobody’s going to say shit.”

“I know, but?—”

“But I’ve been starved of touching you for too long and now I’m going to gorge myself.” His fingers run down my back and I shiver slightly. “You’ll move when I say you can.”

For once, I decide it’s better to play along.

Since it happens to be what I want too.