Page 64 of Savage Vows

She obeys, her hand moving faster, the paintbrush sliding in and out of her pussy. Her breath comes in short gasps, her hips lifting as she chases her orgasm.

“Come for me,” I instruct her. “Let me see your climax.”

She cries out, her body convulsing as she obeys, clamping around the paintbrush.

Moments later, the makeshift toy clatters to the floor. Her body goes limp, and I scoop her up and carry her to the chaise. I set her down and sit on the edge next to her.

Her essence is on her thighs, and now my cock is pulsing demandingly. I’ve never met a woman like her, and there’s no way I’ll ever let her go.

A few seconds later, after she’s caught her breath, she meets my eyes. “That was…”

I wait.

“Even better than when I was alone.”

I grin at her. “That was supposed to be a punishment, Alessia.”

“Oh. Right. It was terrible, Matteo. I’m so sorry for disobeying you. I promise it will never happen again.”

I’m afraid I’ve created a monster. Anytime I forbid anything, she’ll do the opposite. “You owe me one more orgasm,” I inform her.

Her eyes still glazed from her release, Alessia looks up at me, trepidation in her gaze. “Are you serious?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Matteo

“Without a doubt,” I promise her, even though that’s the last thing she wants to hear.

Primly she tells me, “I think that was sufficient.”

I raise a brow. “Did I ask for your opinion?”

“But—”

“You can’t start by undressing me.” I stand up to give her access. Then I offer my hand to help her to her feet.

After only a short hesitation, she reaches for my tie.

“I may keep you like this. Naked.”

“I’ll get cold.”

Pointedly I glance at her nipples. “I can hope.”

She shakes her head. For a moment, there’s lightness between us that hasn’t existed until now. A growing bond.

Her fingers tremble slightly as she slides the silk from around my neck. Then she moves on to my suit jacket, pushing it off my shoulders and down my arms. I help her by shrugging it off and tossing it over the back of a chair.

Her breath catches as she starts on my shirt, and she takes her time unfastening the buttons slowly. Intimate tasks such as this should be her only job. Her gaze is on me like a physical touch, and I harden in response.

After she removes my cufflinks and sets them on the drafting table, she pushes the shirt off my shoulders.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to seeing these scars.” She traces one.

“Occupational hazard,” I say lightly. They’re much more than that. They’re testament to the fact I’m a survivor. My father made sure all of us learned to fight, and he didn’t believe in gloves or helmets.

After all, he seized power from a usurper. Protecting his position—and the family’s—is paramount. All of us will lay down our lives for each other. “Keep going, Alessia.”

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