Page 69 of Covert Desires

“So what’s in the box?” Nico asks, taking it from my hand and shaking it.

“Well, you said you missed the old one. I figured it didn’t have to be a life-or-death situation…Open it.”

My heart swells to overflow as I watch Nico’s face, the sheer wonder in his eyes, as he opens the box.

“Is it what I think it is?” he asks despite the obvious contents.

With a wide smile, I nod. “It’s yours—if you want it.”

I take the elegant metal collar from the box. It’s made of solid steel with a metal hoop in the front, not dissimilar to the one he wore on the island (except for the lack of explosives). I had it custom-made to his exact measurements, engraved with three words on the inside—Property of Kiah.

“I want it,” he says with conviction.

“Will you be mine, Don Ricci?” I ask, and Nico nods enthusiastically.

“I’ve always been yours…Goddess.”

“Mine,” I repeat, leading him to the mirror so he can watch as I snap the cold metal around his throat. It fits snuggly without hindering his breathing.

Nico inhales sharply, eyes glued to the mirror. “It’s perfect,” he whispers, his cock twitching in response too.

And my god, if he doesn’t look like the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my whole damn life…

Lust instantly flares up inside my belly, tugging at my organs with need. I don’t even try to contain it.

Kissing him wildly, I push the newly-collared Don Ricci out the door without bothering to get dressed.

Like it’s a giant playground, we have the house all to ourselves, and there is no need for clothes; we can roam freely through the old mansion.

We damn near fall down the stairs as I lure him to the lounge, unable to keep my hands (or my mouth) from his body.

“Stay,” I whisper into Nico’s ear, leaving him by the massive Christmas tree, nearly double his size. We decorated it ourselves, this time with minimal tinsel frustration on the brat’s side.

Nico whines like a needy puppy but stays put as he’s told.

When I return with a pair of handcuffs in one hand and a tube of blood-red, non-toxic paint in the other, he arches a brow in question.

“Call it foreplay for later.” I wink as I press his naked body into the hard bristles of the tree behind him.

“I’m yours,” Nico consents, letting me manhandle him.

It takes some maneuvering, but I manage to get my way, cuffing the naked Don around the tree with his hands behind his back.

I know the branches are probably scratching him; I’m counting on it.

He’s not going anywhere, though—these are real handcuffs, not play-play ones.

And like old times, I dangle the key before him, taunting him.

Nico’s still dumbstruck when I squeeze some paint into my hand, rubbing them together before painting his chest in broad, messy letters:MINE.

“One day, I’ll carve you up nicely, properly,” I vow, imagining the letters etched in blood on his skin—permanent, forever.

“Please,” Nico moans, cock virtually leaking at the mere thought. Only a psycho like Domenico Ricci would get turned on by blood, but he’s my little psycho.

Grabbing his cock with both hands, it’s impossible not to stain his flesh with red paint as I move him where I need him.

Nico gasps, his whole body tensing as I guide his tip to my clit, using his piercings to stimulate the sensitive nerves.

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