Page 51 of Caruso
“Matteo knows the score. He wants me to take good care of you but not to ruin you in the process.”
“He said that?”
I run my thumb over her lips and wonder howamazing they would look swollen and bruised from my attention. I decide to test the theory.
With no warning I unleash an assault on her mouth that results in a soft groan from deep inside her as my tongue invades hers, catching it in my mine as I bite down sharply on that lip, licking the blood, sucking it up, causing her lip to swell to double its size as I make my mark.
“That hurt.”
Her eyes glare, but the excitement in them tells me she loved every minute of that, and I shrug. “Get used to it. I won’t apologize for wanting to eat you whole.”
I push my hand under her camisole and squeeze her nipple hard, causing her to yelp and attempt to pull away.
I grip it hard and bite her neck, and she gasps, “You’re hurting me.”
I ignore her protests, pushing her boundaries, and a sudden punch to my stomach brings me to my senses far quicker than any word or scream.
“That fucking hurt.” I groan as she glares at me.
“Good.”
It reminds me that Taylor can defend herself, and I look forward to testing her further.
“The man.” She jerks her head toward the door. “What did he do?”
She appears concerned for him, and I relish that expression changing when she discovers why he is here.
“He checked in two days ago and spent the nights gaming in the casino. He was caught stealing chips from customers who didn’t even realize it. It appears he stoletwo hundred thousand dollars worth of chips and cashed them in at intervals, different cashiers every time so as not to raise suspicion.”
“How did you catch him?”
Taylor’s eyes are wide, and I run my hand down her pretty face and whisper against her lips.
“Security followed him, and when he entered his room, they went in after him.”
“And brought him here?”
“Of course.”
“Why, of course, there is such a thing as calling the cops and prosecuting him?”
I smirk, stroking the side of her face while staring into her eyes.
“Where is the fun in that, little one?”
She shakes her head and whispers, “I’m a little worried that I understand your madness, Giorgio. What are you hiding inside that crazy mind of yours?”
“A horror story, angel.”
She surprises me by leaning closer and pressing her lips to mine, softly, featherlike, almost reverent, and I freeze, unused to such demonstrations of affection. To be honest, I rarely kiss unless it involves some kind of pain, and yet this is sweet, soothing and addictive.
I don’t react and wait for her to call the shots, again, something that is alien to me.
She presses in harder, a little deeper, and as her teeth graze my bottom lip, she bites down softly on it,dishing out none of the pain I gave to her, merely a pleasant friction that soothes rather than destroys.
She shifts closer, pressing in further, and her tits press against my chest, the thin fabric of my shirt the smallest barrier.
She is fresh from the shower and smells of roses. Unspoilt, no designer perfume, innocent—almost.
