Page 10 of I Would Die For You

Turns out Stefano loves to talk. Not the type who likes to hear his own voice, thankfully, and I do get to put in a line or two along the way, but I’m content letting him rattle on about this topic or that subject. It could be a bit whiplash-inducing were he not so lively and confident in himself that it ends up almost like watching a one-man-show. He also makes me laugh, and before I know it, our meal is over, and we’re stepping out onto the animated streets.

Tourist season is starting, so the crowds are already swelling. Stefano pulls me closer to him with a hand around my shoulders, and when I shiver from the slight breeze blowing in tonight, he ditches his jacket and drapes it onto my shoulders.

Ensconced in this garment still bearing his warmth, I can’t help but burrow into the soft fabric. A whiff of his cologne wraps around me. It’s citrusy with a hint of salt and a deeper, elusive note like the bitter pith of a lemon. I can’t say I find it strange that this scent reminds me so much of him—he seems and sounds so inoffensive and pleasant on the surface, but underneath it all is that layer of uncertain danger he carries so effortlessly with him, you tend to forget who he really is.

We stop in front of a building, and he glances up before his gaze comes to rest on my face. With a bent knuckle, he tips my chin up so I’m looking into his hooded eyes.

“I’m right up there,” he says softly.

A shiver racks through me. Up there, it’s his place. He’s brought me to his apartment…and I can’t think of any other reason why he’d take me home.

It’s time for him to collect. Never mind his forceful words at the club last night. We both knew where this was going. More the fool me for thinking we were simply enjoying a night as two people on a date.

I put on a smile. “Sure. Let’s go.”

Stefano takes my hand and leads me up in a creaking, old-school elevator to the fourth floor where his apartment is located. My feet are leaden all the way along, but I can’t let that happen, can’t let him see it. He’s taking a girl home to enjoy having sex with her—she can’t make it look like she’s walking down the gallows. That’s not the impression I should give in my line of work, and I have to remind myself this is work. He might not have come in and paid for my time by the hour or by the job, but taking me out to dinner and showing me a good time? That’s payment in some men’s books.

With a deep breath when the front door closes behind me, I shake off his jacket and tug him closer with a hand curled around the waistband of his jeans.

“Cosa sta—”

His words strangle when I drop to my knees, my fingers making quick work of his belt and the metal button and zipper to find the layer of snug briefs underneath. It doesn’t deter me, and I’ve got his cock out in the next few seconds. He’s only half-hard and already looks like a mouthful, which makes my mouth water. I can’t wait for him to swell up between my lips and all along my tongue.

He smells of musk and soap, a drop of pre-cum pearling at the tip. I waste no time catching it with the tip of my tongue. Clear, clean, salty—he’s delicious. A groan rumbles out of him as I close my lips around his now-engorged head and pull him in by sucking my cheeks in. God, he’s going to be a mouthful, all right.

He’s growing inside my mouth, getting harder, longer, thicker. I’m still the one stroking all over him—he’s not pushing in or out yet. Will he be the kind of man who likes to ramp up his thrusts when he’s close to coming? Will he then force the tip of his cock down my throat and make me swallow, or will he pull out at the last second so he can spurt all over my face or my chest?

His hand is now closing in my hair, fingers digging under the tie holding my ponytail high at the back of my head.Finally!

“Kaya,” he groans. “Stop.”

Wait, did he just say… I freeze, gaze flying up to meet his. His eyes are narrowed, peering down at me with anger, almost. His nostrils are flared, and a dusting of red slashes along his taut cheekbones.

When my mouth slackens, he pulls out of me.

“What are you doing?” he bites out.

Strangely, I can’t hear any irritation in his tone. It fuels me to answer, even though a part of me whispers he could be hiding his game really well and I’ll earn myself a back-handed slap for being impertinent.

Yet, if this is what he wants… I’m not at the brothel here, where security weeds out the johns and doesn’t let any whacko with disturbed needs anywhere near us girls. I’ve been appointed to pleasure this man as he deems required, so I must withstand everything he’ll throw at me.

“This is what we came up here for, isn’t it?” I ask.

Stefano blinks at me. “Sul serio?”

Seriously, yes.What did he expect?

His face grows even tenser, the hard jawline tightening some more. Something inside me wants to pull away, but I can’t do it. He’s got me as frozen as I’m enthralled by the formidable man he’s morphing into right before me.

“What did I say last night, Kaya?”

I’m drawing a blank, even though I know what he means.

When silence stretches for more seconds than is comfortable, Stefano tucks himself back into his briefs. But instead of pulling up his jeans, his hands clasp around my wrists, and he’s pulling up none too gently, marching along as he does so. I’m stumbling back, coming to a stop when my back collides with the smooth surface of the front door.

“I said…” he pauses, his nose nuzzling the side of my neck and face so I have no other choice but to tilt my head up until I’m looking into his eyes when he peers at me again. “A woman always comes to me when she wants to, not the other way round.”

His hands, still wrapped around my wrists, lift my arms and press the backs of my hands firmly against the wood.

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