Page 28 of Enemy of Ours 1
I bring my hand up and swipe at the saliva coating my cheek with my thumb before quickly grabbing her cheeks between my thumb and index finger until her wide lips shape the perfect O. I slide my thumb back and forth over her open mouth before shoving it inside and pressing down on her tongue.
“Suck,” I demand, my face inches from her, as I lean down over her small frame.
Her cloudy green eyes are wide with shock, but the moment I let go of her chin and cheeks, she sucks down on my thumb. She slides her tongue over the rough pad in a lazy manner and gets all the spit off. She gazes up at me with such innocence that I'm once again captivated; my cock could split my zipper wide open due to the blood flow heading south. It only gets worse when she bites me sharply, her teeth sinking into my flesh. I pull my thumb quickly out of her mouth and see the indent they left.
“That’s my girl, my only girl,” I praise, running my fingers through the long, red locks of her hair. “You know I love it when your claws come out, kitten.” She tries not to, but I watch as she melts at my words, her body going lax and leaning into my touch as I lightly scratch at her scalp.
“You bastard,” she says, sounding slightly drunk as she sways towards me but remembers herself when I let go and step back to sit on the couch across from her.
“Get some rest; you're going to need it once we land.” I cross my ankle over my knee as I stare at her, hardly blinking.
I can’t believe that after waiting for so long, she is actually here with me, aware that we are together.
Kind of. Still have to share the whole marriage thing, but she’ll just have to deal.
“Land where?” she asks, refusing to gaze my way as she plays with the red silk ribbon tied around her wrist and sits down heavily onto the couch.
“Sicily, Italy. We’ll land in Catania first before traveling to one of our homes in Tindari. I have some business to run before we head across the Messina on the yacht to Capri Island,” I inform her, loving the way her eyebrows scrunch in confusion as I stateour homes. “Just a reminder, Iris, if you try to leave me, I’ll hunt you down, and the punishments won’t be as much fun as the rewards.”
She scoffs under her breath, crossing her arms over her perfect chest, pushing them up higher for me to stare at and imagine fucking her tits with my cock.
“I’ve been tortured before. Nothing you can do can break me,” she sasses, making me bite my knuckle, trying to resist demonstrating how I’ll hand out her punishments.
“Oh, Pet. Orgasm denial is very different, especially right when you’re about to come, but I won’t let you. It could last for hours.” My voice goes deeper, my accent thicker as I imagine tying her up and licking her pussy into submission while she cries for release.
She gasps quietly, biting her bottom lip as she turns her head to the side, but I can read her body like a book. Her thighs shift, rubbing together, and her pulse at her neck is pounding.
“Th-that won’t ever happen. I hate you, Romeo Messina,” she bites out, her nails digging into her forearms as if she’s restraining herself.
“We’ll see, Kitten. I hate you too.” I purr each word, loving the shiver that wracks her body at the obvious desire in my voice and the way I mean the opposite.
The next threehours are silent. She refuses to glance my way or talk, but that’s okay. It gives me time to shamelessly stare at her. I want to trace every freckle across the bridge of her nose and cheeks with my lips. Her face reveals a range of emotions, including confusion, anger, exhaustion, desire, and even more anger.
Her hand strokes Sofia in the same pattern over and over as our dog lays her head on Iris's lap. I think it’s the only thing keeping her calm right now, knowing she has a familiar companion with her.
Her face suddenly turns towards me, brows furrowed.
“How did you get me on the plane without me noticing or waking up? How have you been sneaking into my apartment?” She tilts her head, those green eyes seeming to know almost exactly how to pierce my gaze.
It’s uncanny how she does that.
I know she can see shadows and detailed shapes if the lighting is right, but I swear she’s staring into my soul.
“Oh, that. Inga has been drugging your tea for years for me with a little extra melatonin. You’re a heavy sleeper too.” I answer absentmindedly, wondering how she’s going to handle the rest of what I have to admit to her.
She doesn’t say anything; her jaw is tight, and she drops her head back with a thunk on the cushion of the couch.
“Please buckle your seat belts; we will be landing in ten minutes. Welcome to Catina,” my private captain announces over the speakers before disconnecting.
“What the feck. This bloody wanker thinks he can drug me anytime it’s convenient for him?” she mutters to herself under her breath, making me crack a smile as her thick Irish accent makes an appearance.
I love when that happens. Her feisty and pissed-off demeanor is evident when she utters those words. That's exactly how I love her: full of anger, swearing like a sailor, and showing no mercy. Me included. I like that she’s not scared of me, as most people are. She’s never been. I leave her to talk to herself, staring out the window as we start to descend. The sky is blue with sunshine, and the ocean's clear waves stretch along miles of pure tan sand. I glance over at her to see what she thinks, knowing the brightness of the sun will let her see the cliff sides of houses and rock ledges with historic buildings. My mood darkens slightly at the thought of her not being able to see the colors of the sun reflecting off the ocean or the different bright buildings. I hate that it’s my fault she’s practically blind.
“What are you seeing, Kitten?” I ask quietly, knowing she hears me as she crooks her head to the side, but continues to stare out the large window behind the couch she is sitting sideways on.
I almost think she’s not going to answer me, but she does with a breathless whisper of awe.
“It’s mostly shadows, like shapes of smoke that never stop moving, but I can see the shapes of people moving on the beach and the waves coming towards the shore. I can see what I’m guessing are rock formations off the cliffs and a mountain far away.” She remains quiet for a moment before turning towards me and searching for her seatbelt, her hands gliding over the butter-soft leather of the couch. “It’s as if every direction yougaze at, it’s something different and unique. I wish I could still paint.” Her voice comes out sad and wistful; my heart squeezes at the pain in her tone.
