12
Giovanna
Tommy’s chest rises and falls, his eyes dragging over every inch of my bare skin like he’s memorizing it. The weight of his gaze is so heavy that I almost feel it physically as I wait for him to touch me, kiss me, grab me.
But he doesn’t. His words—babies, forever—echo in my head until I can barely breathe. When he finally reaches for me, instead of letting him pull me close, I take his hand and lead him into my closet.
“I got to dress you up today. Now it’s your turn.”
He growls softly, but follows me, stationing himself behind me, a wall of heat at my back, as we survey the racks of clothes.
His cock presses against the small of my back through his jeans as his arms frame me, one on either side. He slides hangers along the rack, deliberating, each shift causing his hoodie to brush against me, bringing with it the familiar scent of leather and amber, his scent, safe and sensual all at once.
I see a shirt I like and step forward to get it, but he grabsmy hip, rough, and yanks me back against him, so that he’s wrapped around me.
His mouth next to my ear, he makes a ‘tch tch’ noise, chastising me. “My choice.” His warm breath skates across my neck, and I suppress a shiver.
He lifts a pale pink blouse and drapes it against me, dragging the fabric lazily across my breasts, my stomach, back up again, until my nipples ache. Right before a moan escapes me, he drops it and pulls another shirt off the rack and does it again. Then another. And another. Over and over, he repeats the process until my floor is littered with discarded tops.
Finally, he settles on a high-necked blouse and jeans, and I hide a smile at his conservative choice. I lean back into him, inhaling his scent, tipping my chin toward the dresser. “I’ll need underwear. Top drawer.”
He hesitates, his hand barely grazing the outline of my hip, his gaze pinned to my mouth. For a split second, I’m sure he’s going to kiss me and my heart rate skyrockets, but instead he moves a wrought iron dressing chair out of the way and rifles through the drawer. He catches my eye in the mirror and holds up a sports bra with a smirk.
I laugh. “That thing is like armor. No.” I tug out a lace bra instead, delicate purple to match the shirt. His expression ices over.
“No.” His voice is sharp. “You’re not wearing lace for another man.”
I jerk it out of reach. “It matches the shirt, Tommy. That’s all.”
“You’re not going out with him, Gi.”
That commanding tone of his makes me wet. My voicecomes out cracked and husky. “Why?”
We’re inches apart. I’m naked. I can see the outline of his hard cock through his jeans. I know he wants me, so why won’t he just fuckingtake mewithout all the love con shit?
“Say it, Tommy. Tell me why you don’t want me to go. And don’t give me any of your babies and forever bullshit or I swear to God I’ll walk out.”
His jaw ticks. He opens his mouth to speak, then decides against it. Instead, he closes the distance between us, his hoodie feathering against my skin with every breath, raw and sensual. I’m so wet I’m practically dripping down my thighs.
“Text him.” His voice is low, gravelly. “Tell him you can’t make it.”
Rage spikes through me, and I smack his chest with both hands. “You don’t own me, Tommy. You can’t—”
He drops into the iron chair, grabbing my wrists and yanking me onto his lap. I land straddling him, his cock hot and solid against me through denim. My breath catches in my throat as he grabs my ass, grinding my bare pussy painfully against his cock through his jeans.
“You want to be in charge?” His teeth graze my collarbone, biting down until I gasp. “You can be in charge, sweet girl. But there are rules.”
“What rules?” I ask breathlessly.
“You do not date other men. After you text Tony to cancel, you delete and block him—him and every other guy in your phone who has ever touched you or wanted to touch you.”
I squirm instinctively, rocking against him. He grips my ass tighter and holds me still, and I groan in frustration. “I don’t want a boyfriend, Tommy. I just want—”
“I’m not finished. First, you’re going to slide that wet pussy up and down my cock. You are not allowed to take me inside you. I am not fucking you today. But you are not allowed to stop until you come. Do you understand?”
I can’t stop staring at his mouth, dumbstruck by his words. He’s never talked to me like this. No one has. Suddenly, being bossed around by Tommy Demonio is hitting different.
“Can I kiss you?” My voice comes out small and meek, and his eyes turn black with lust.