Page 36

C ontessa

“Pink or silver?” Bambi waits, wide-eyed for my verdict.

I have to drag my attention from the cool, calm sea outside, back to the room. “Pink or silver what?”

“Crystals,” she replies, frowning. I drop my gaze to her nails. They’ve been painted a bright bubblegum pink and she’s now sitting, tweezers in hand, poised to embellish them with sparkling gems.

“Silver.”

I turn to see Sera with her hands full of Trilby’s bleached blond hair. She looks like she’s taken on Kate Bush in a battle of the blow-dryer and she isn’t winning.

I glance at my empty flute and go to refill my glass but nothing comes out.

“I think this is the last of the champagne.” I hold the bottle upside down and inspect the mouth for drips. “I’ll call room service.”

“No!” Sera says, her mouth full of hair pins. “They’ll just give us the house stuff. I put a couple of the expensive bottles to one side for us.”

“I don’t mind going to get them,” I offer.

“Okay, great. Yeah, I might be a while.” She jerks her head toward Trilby and it does appear Sera underestimated how long the hair preparation would take.

I get to my feet, grateful for an opportunity to stretch my legs. “Where do I go?”

Sera takes the pins out of her mouth. “Go out of this room, turn right, down the hall, past the staircase. At the end is an elevator—it’s the staff elevator. Go down to the basement…”

Trilby’s gaze flashes in my direction and I swallow.

“Basement. No problem.”

Sera, unaware of my recent experience with basements, continues. “When you step out, there are two doors on the left. One is the dry food store—ignore that one. The second is a cleaning closet. I put a couple of bottles on the floor just inside the door.”

“What if someone sees me?”

“Just tell them I sent you. I haven’t done anything wrong, I just forgot to bring the bottles upstairs.”

“Okay then.” I twist the door handle. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

The rest of the hotel seems quiet but we are on the top floor and the acoustics are well-contained with all the thick pile carpets and soft furnishings. My pulse quickens as I near the end of the landing. I’m imagining the basement to be dark, damp and eerie, just like the one in Arena. My hands feel clammy just thinking about it.

My mind flashes back to when I was sitting on the chair in Arena’s basement, pleading with Benito to believe me. I remember the warm glow in his eyes when he dropped his gaze to between my thighs, and in seconds I’m hot all over.

I go through the motions of pressing the elevator call button and waiting for its arrival, all the while holding my thighs together, trying to find friction I can use to ease this building pressure. When the elevator arrives I step into it. The face of the person looking back at me through the mirrored wall looks untethered. Full, parted lips, large eyes rimmed with long black lashes, damp from crying with laughter most of the night.

When the doors open again, I step out automatically, then feel a huge sense of relief to see the basement is just another corridor, albeit wider than those upstairs—dry and brightly lit. I can also hear voices, so I’m thankful I’m not alone. The doors are clearly labeled, the first one I see signposted ‘Dry Store’. I’m almost right past it when I have an idea. We ate a gorgeous but very light dinner, and Trilby needs to keep her strength up the next couple of days. We could all probably do with some more food inside us. I open the door to the dry store and flick the light switch on the inside wall.

My eyes widen at the sight of dozens upon dozens of shelves holding tins of sauces, bags of dried beans, every type of flour and sugar imaginable, and—the thing I’m really looking for—stacked boxes of chips. I make a beeline straight for them and a mental note to pay for it all in the morning. I grab some barbecue chips, popcorn and pretzels, then flick the switch and pull the door closed.

When I reach the cleaning closet, the door is slightly ajar. I open it fully and peer inside, but I don’t see any bottles. I look around both sides of the door and there’s nothing. My pulse quickens, my nerves jumping to the conclusion something is off, but I shove them down into the base of my stomach. I was nervous about coming down here and everything has been fine. I have to remind myself, this is the Harbor’s Edge in the Hamptons—it isn’t the seedy basement of a mafia-run nightclub.

Just the peripheral thought of Arena heats my skin again. Simply knowing that the place belongs to Benito makes me ache to return, even though the sensible part of my brain—and Trilby’s voice in the back of my head—says that is the last thing I should do.

I flick the switch. I’m surprised to see the room is quite large. More shelves are lined with cleaning products and vacuum cleaners. Mops and brooms of all sizes are stacked in two corners. I inspect both sides of the door again but don’t see any champagne bottles.

“Where did you put them, Sera?” I whisper under my breath, taking a few steps into the room. Maybe someone came in, saw the bottles close to the door and put them on a shelf so they wouldn’t be kicked over by accident.

I walk to the nearest shelf but before I reach it, the sound of the light switch shutting off fills the room and I’m cast in complete darkness.

I spin around quickly, not that it helps—I can’t see a thing, not even a sliver of light from where I’d left the door ajar. It isn’t ajar anymore.

My heart beats at the base of my throat and my head feels light. “Hello?” I call out, my voice empty and trembling.

I shiver in the cool basement air and the hairs covering my whole body stand on end. I wrap my arms around myself and take a nervous step toward the door. I can sense someone is in the room with me. The presence of warmth makes my head tingle—it’s the sensation I often have right before I pass out.

“Please…” I say, but the word sticks to my dry lips. I have to force out the rest. “Who’s there?”

The sight of my stalker collapsed on the street with blood running from his mouth fills my vision and nausea crawls up my throat. Why do I keep doing these foolish things—letting a crazy person follow me around for three years, and now walking blindly into a basement room without checking it was completely safe to do so. Benito was right—I do need protecting from myself.

A fragile slice of light is visible beneath the door, alerting me to where it is. I don’t take a breath before bolting toward it, but before I can reach the handle, a giant hand whips out and wraps around my face, turns me around and pushes me up against a wall.

My scream is muffled against calloused skin and my heart is silenced by a burning heat against my back. The shape of it, the severity of the burn, is familiar. But the fact my captor isn’t speaking makes me doubt my judgement.

I pant against the unyielding palm, tears rolling down my cheeks and over the man’s fingers. Then his weight is pressed against me—clear, defined lines, curves and ridges. I almost faint with relief. It’s Benito, I’m sure of it. But, the brute force he’s using to hold me still and the unemotive lingering while I cry is terrifying .

The removal of my sight only makes room for my other senses to soar. His heavy, masculine scent floods my nostrils and the nerve endings across my skin dance like electrical currents. He passes a hand under my arm and up through the middle of my chest and uses it to keep me still while he softens his hold on my face. Then, with a gentle thumb, he wipes away my tears.

After several minutes have passed, my breaths lengthen and my shivers ease. With his hand still covering my mouth, he slides the other one down the middle of my body. The satin ripples around it, chasing its path to my navel. A ball of heat unfurls behind my belly button and slides down to my core, where it sits heavily between my thighs.

The breaths at my back are ragged, his chest pressing against my spine with each inhale. He’s undeniably turned on, which only fuels the aching pull around my opening.

Up to now, my hands had been fisted at my sides, but slowly, they uncurl. I place one hand on the wall to ground myself and reach the other behind me tentatively. My fingers graze familiar Italian cotton and my lids flutter shut.

His flattened palm inches further downward until it’s pressing softly against my pelvic bone. Slowly and torturously, he walks his fingers to drag the remaining fabric up my thighs, each inch of flesh uncovered sending sparks of fire to my clit. When the final inch of fabric is in his grip, his fingers venture inwards and find me.

I release a long-held breath and it’s chased by an entirely uncontrolled moan. Instead of taking that as permission to continue, he pauses as if soaking up the moment, absorbing it into his being. The seconds drag until it is all close to unbearable. Without thinking, I lick the palm of his hand. He rewards me by stroking his fingers over my clit. It is achingly slow, as if he’s memorizing my sex from every angle.

I shift my hips forward until I’m pressing into his hand. He responds by thickening his grip on my mouth, but then gives me what I want and pushes two long, thick fingers inside my heat. I tighten around him, ensuring I can feel every stroke and glide of the tips, and his touch lights me up everywhere.

The air in the room is thick with arousal—his and mine—and it dawns on me what he’s doing. He knows I hate the reason he imprisoned me in the basement of Arena, but he also knows that what he did to me down there… I loved it . And he knows I don’t know how to feel about that. I feel ashamed to have enjoyed it, but I yearn for him to take that control again. He knows I should be avoiding him, but he also knows I can’t . This is why he’s here. He's giving me no choice, just the way I need it to be.

The rhythm is torturous. His fingers caress me back and forth, then play my clit like an instrument. He pinches it tightly then rubs my arousal around, soothing it until I’m humming for release.

Softly, he removes the hand from my mouth and pulls my hair back over my shoulder tilting my head to the right giving him access to the skin at my nape. He licks it gently then paints a line of hot, wet kisses all the way to my shoulder. A reckless shiver ghosts over my spine.

Knowing I’m now unlikely to scream, he withdraws his hand. In the darkness, the sound of a zipper releasing fills the air and my pulse races. I grind against his fingers giving him silent permission to enter me.

The movement of his fingers doesn’t falter once as he pulls himself out of his boxers and drags the head of his cock along the crevice of my bottom. My eyes almost roll back in my head at the prospect of what’s to come.

I need him to fill me to the brim. I want him to make me his, in every possible shadowy, shameful and dirty way. I want his darkness. I want his wild .

My head falls forward and I rest it against the wall, still chasing his fingers as they stroke me into a frenzy. I’m on the edge, about to tip over, when his cock slides beneath the fabric of my negligee and into the arousal pooling between my legs. It slips back and forth, stimulating my clit along with his fingers. An untethered moan falls from my lips and my thighs tremble.

Just as I think he might give me what I need, the crown of his cock moves backward and presses against my other opening. My eyelids ping open, seeing nothing but shadows. He dips his fingers into my heat and uses my arousal to lubricate my entrance. I tense, stiffly, but his skilled fingers work my opening until I feel able to relax. Then he angles his cock perfectly and pushes the head inside.

Breath is dragged from my lungs. I’ve never felt anything like it. He continues to massage my clit and push his fingers inside to caress a spot that splits me apart, but I’m hyper aware of his cock stretching another part of me wide open.

His breaths grow short and heavy, making it clear what this is doing to him. His unwavering control is being challenged. This motivates me to push my ass backward, taking him another inch. A hoarse breath scratches his vocal cords and he presses his lips harshly to my throat. He keeps his right hand between my legs, coaxing me into a state of oblivion while his left finds mine pressed into the wall. Just as the white heat unfurls across my core, he threads his fingers through mine and thrusts a little. The pressure it unravels lights up every cell in my body and I come hard with his fingers deep inside me. The tremors roll right through my bones, tightening the muscles in my ass and tugging at the sensitive skin at his crown. I hear another rasping moan and he jerks into my back opening, flooding me with heat.

His chest molds itself around my back as we convulse for what feels like a full minute. By the end of it, we’re both out of breath and sticky with sweat. He glides his lips from the base of my throat to my ear, then sucks the soft lobe between his lips. I want to turn my head and catch his lips in mine but I don’t. It would break the spell. It would mean I’d walk out of here knowing with absolute clarity what I’ve just done, and the shame will engulf me.

The one thing that will save my sanity is the ambiguity. It’s easier to live with the thought I just consented to let a stranger fuck me in a darkened room, than the thought that I returned to the man who abducted me, insisted I couldn’t be trusted, then made me come against my will.

The truth stings like the whack of a belt. I just gave him a different version of my virginity, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Deep down, we both know.

We both know we’ve crossed a line so raw and so intimate, that despite whatever comes next, there is no turning back.

I stagger back along the corridor to the suite in a daze. The same daze I fell into as Benito tore off his shirt and wiped me clean, then stepped back to let me walk past him and out of the room.

I take a deep breath that does nothing to snap me out of the trance I’m in, then open the door. Bambi is playing some game on her phone but Trilby and Sera look up. From the looks of the pins and rollers in Trilby’s hair, Sera’s work was done a while ago.

“Where’ve you been?” Sera asks with wide eyes. “France?”

I stare at her, blankly.

“The champagne, Tess,” she continues. “Did you get it?”

“I—” My spine trembles, my blood hot, shame creeping across the surface of my skin. The space between my ass cheeks feels like it just went through three rounds in a boxing ring but my clit is singing . I have to work hard to drag my focus back to Sera’s question. “No. I couldn’t find it.”

She jumps to her feet and I’m expecting an exasperated huff but instead she beams at me. “Don’t worry, I’ll go get us a bottle from the bar. Back in a sec!”

As the door closes I pan back to Trilby and notice she has a brow raised.

“Are you okay?” Her tone is doubtful.

“I’m fine,” I reply, monotone. “I just couldn’t find it.”

“Looks like you found other stuff though,” she grins, and it’s only then I realize Benito must have picked up the chips I dropped and shoved them into my arms as I left.

“Oh yeah.” I stare at the bags like they came from Mars and pass them to Trilby who rips them open and shoves literal handfuls into her mouth.

I sit at the window and watch the sunrise over swaying palms, my negligee pooled around my hips. It’s five a.m., the room is cool with conditioned air, and I’m barely clothed, yet I still feel hot all over. I rest my head back against the window frame and close my eyes. I see nothing but a wall of shadows, but I can feel everything. My stomach liquifies as I recall the soft touch of his fingers and his hard penetration of an unfamiliar part of me. And my head reels at the realization that, yet again, I loved it.

I don’t understand myself. I always knew I was wild, but this is different. This is dark. I’ve been tied up against my will and I’ve been approached in a blacked-out room. I was complicit in the pleasure that was created and received; I fully participated in the actions. And I would do it all again—with him.

A rustle of a comforter lifts my lids.

“What time is it?”

I look over and see Trilby rubbing her eyes. “It’s only five o’clock. You should try and get some more sleep. Big day for you—it’s the rehearsal. ”

I smile and feel a combination of excitement and dread flow through my veins.

She sits up and looks around the room. Sera is laid next to her in the king sized bed, fast asleep, and Bambi is equally as dead to the world on a guest bed over the other side of the suite.

“I can never get back to sleep once I’ve woken up.” She stretches her arms over her head then slips her feet into the totally cliched fluffy slippers we bought her as a bachelorette gift.

She softly pads across the carpet and joins me in the window, sitting opposite me on the ledge. “Did you sleep?”

I note she didn’t say ‘much’ or ‘well’ and figure there isn’t a lot I can hide from my big sister. “Not really.”

She lowers her voice to a whisper since we’re not alone in the room. “Is it because of him?”

I sigh and pan my gaze out the window. “Yes.”

“I spoke to Cristiano about… you know, what happened.”

I’m about to roll my eyes. “You shouldn’t have?—”

“I am still annoyed with him,” she says in a grave tone.

“As am I with you,” I say, levelling her with a glare. “I didn’t want this to become a big deal.”

She holds up her hands. “And it isn’t. I said my piece and he’s given strict orders that… he … is to stay out of your way, at least until after the wedding. ”

An unladylike snort shoots out through my nose and I hastily try to cover it up with a cough.

“What’s so funny?” Trilby frowns.

“Nothing.” I shake my head. “I wasn’t laughing.”

“You smirked.”

“I did not.”

“Tess…” her voice carries a warning note.

I close my eyes and sigh out a long breath. “It’s just, I don’t think Benito listens to anyone. Not even Cristiano.”

“What do you mean?” Trilby frowns. “What has he done now?”

I look up at her through my lashes. “Why do you think I took so long trying to find the champagne?”

Trilby sucks in a dramatic breath and clamps a hand over her mouth. “What?” she mumbles. “You ran into him?”

“It’s okay—he didn’t hurt me or upset me. It was fine.”

“So, what? Did you guys talk?”

I swallow and look away, too quickly. “Something like that.”

In the corner of my eye I see her slowly lower her hand. “I’m not going to pry, Tess. It’s only my business if you want it to be. Just know that if you need anything—anything at all—I’m here, okay?”

I bite my lip and nod, then move off the ledge. “I’m going to go to my room and shower,” I say, changing the subject. “You’re sure you can’t go back to sleep?”

“Are you kidding?” She grins. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. It’s the day of the rehearsal! And I’m getting married tomorrow! To Cristiano!”

My smile widens at the flush spreading across her cheeks. Her eyes dance with excitement and her whole body lights up. Without thinking, I throw my arms around her neck.

“Yes you bloody are!” I squeal into her shoulder. “And it’s going to be the best wedding ever!”

And as the words leave my lips, I know without a doubt it really is.