Page 45 of Corrupting Lily

“I don’t have my passport. I left all of that behind when I left…Johnathan.” She hesitates but manages to get that asshole's name past her lips.

I extend my hand to Dante, who is in the passenger seat, and he places something in it. I pass it to her.

“How?” She turns the new passport over in her hands before examining the interior.

“We have connections.” I notice a flash of something on her face, something I didn’t like.

“Only to be used now. There's no running away from me, Lily.” My voice carries a warning.

“I wasn’t planning to. But it could mean a fresh start for me when the two-month period ends.” Her eyes search mine for something. Confirmation, perhaps. Acknowledgment. Not going to happen. She wasn’t going anywhere without me, and these two months would soon be replaced with a far longer term.

When I don’t say anything, she changes the subject.

“What is happening in Italy?” she asks, her eyes returning to the document.

“A wedding.” Her gaze meets mine, curiosity in them turning to shock when I say, “Mine.”

She starts coughing as if she has choked on her spit. Her big eyes hold mine, thoughts racing a mile a minute, and that race is reflected on her beautiful face.

“Your wedding. You are getting married?” It is said slowly. Disbelief coats every letter.

“Yes. In three days.” I shouldn’t enjoy this as much as I am.

Her eyes blink rapidly as if she is processing the information and struggling.

“To whom?” she almost whispers, the blood draining from her face.

“A una donna gelosa.” Her eyes flash with hurt, and then the other emotion I already know well bubbles up, returning color to her face as her hands clench into tight little fists. She doesn’t even know what I said, yet she is upset.

“Who? What is her name? And what about what you have been doing with me? Does she know?” Lily is furious, her whiskey-colored eyes practically spitting fire. I fucking love it. She has a temper to match mine. Fire with fire.

"And how will this two-month period work with me as the third wheel? Will we all be sleeping in the same bed together, Dominico? Sharing the same house? Why did you even bother suggesting it if you planned to marry?" She is seething, her anger making her words clipped and halted as if she is struggling to speak.

“Are you jealous,il mio fiorellino?” She recoils as if I have slapped her, pressing almost entirely against the door, her face turning bright red as she shakes her head vigorously.

Dante snorts, and I barely hold back a laugh. Fuck, she is so cute like this, all worked up and jealous.

“Me? Jealous? Never. I don’t care who you marry.” My eyes dip to her hands, which are still fisted, and her gaze follows before she quickly releases their clench, guiltily looking back up at me.

Her face turns to shock as I reach over and lift her onto my lap, the partition rising at the same time. Thank you, Dante.

She squirms on my lap, her attempt to escape half-hearted and lacking any real conviction. I wrap my arm around her while grasping her neck with my other hand.

“You’re a crazy woman, but I fucking like it.” Her eyes drift from mine to my lips, her breathing now coming out in short, choppy breaths as excitement pushes her jealousy aside. It is the most effective way to deal with it.

Releasing her neck, I allow my hand to run up her jeans-covered thigh before cupping her pussy, rubbing her through the material as the moan leaving her lips is captured by my own. The kiss is hot and passionate, her jealousy and anger making it all the more intense, as our tongues dance a tango we do so well. One that has her fucking herself against my palm as it deepens. I pop the button of her jeans and then dip my hand inside her panties, not hesitating as I insert two fingers into her well-lubricated pussy. Even her anger cannot keep her body from responding to me. Her eyes are closed, and her mouth is slightly parted as she rides my fingers.

“Tell me you were jealous,il mio fiorellino?” Her eyes open briefly, flashing with that emotion before she moans out her answer, the small nod accompanying her acknowledgement. I can tell she is close by her frantic movements and her nails digging into my arm; the little half-moons make a great addition to my tattoo.

I remove my fingers and then slide them back in, adding another digit to the party. Her moans become louder, the friction against her clit every time I slide them out and back in, edging her closer to her orgasm. She is putty in my hands. With the walls of her core pulsing around me, clenching and unclenching as she chases her release, a thought forms. Like this, I could convince her to do anything. It's acheap fucking shot, but I don't care. A win is a win, no matter how it is obtained.

“Say yes,il mio fiorellino.” Her head falls back while her eyes follow a similar path, rolling back.

This is my opportunity and I fucking jump on it.

“Yes to what?” she murmurs, her eyes slits as she briefly looks at me, licking her lips as she pants.

She is right there, right on the edge. I fuck my fingers into her faster, making sure my palm rubs against her little nub.

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