Page 42 of Forbidden Property
“Every inch of you belongs to me and always will,” Renzo says. “It just so happens that this time, I want us tied together. I want your love…”
He withdraws his finger from my mouth and quickly cleans it off with his own mouth before drying his hand on his pants. I shudder unconsciously as his gaze drops over to me again. The intense fire behind his eyes this time rightfully scares me. There’s nowhere for me to escape from him in the wine cellar and if I stray too far, I really might get lost in the weaving tunnels of dusty wine bottles.
“Say it,” Renzo demands in a low voice, taking his dried off finger and running it over my collar bone as he makes his nonspecific command. I can’t predict what exactly he wants me to say and I stay silent because I don’t dare get it wrong and subject myself to Renzo’s punishment while he’s in this heightened state. I provoked him by running away, but what the hell did he expect when he interrupted my LSAT session to confess his nonexistent love for me.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Say that you love me or I’ll fuck your ass with a wine bottle,” Renzo says calmly and seriously. A shiver runs straight down my spine and causes my core to throb. What the fuck? What the fuck!? Renzo has said crazy and outrageous shit before, but thishas to be the worst. My response forms a lump in my throat and no words come out.
I wonder if I should just give in and tell him that I love him. Then again, I don’t believe he’s going to shove a wine bottle up my ass because there’s no way in hell that would feel good for either of us. Giving in easily would only give Renzo power over me and let him know that a little threat like that is all it takes to manipulate me.
Stubbornness courses through me and I want to fight him for the same reasons I wanted to escape Renzo and hide from him in this cellar in the first damn place.
“You’re not going to fuck me in the ass with a wine bottle.”
“Why not?” Renzo asks with his chilling tone only getting chillier. “You’ll like it. Plus, I have plenty of lube down here.”
“Wine isn’t lube.”
“Some of these bottles aren’t wine at all,” Renzo replies, the corner of his mouth turning up into a sly smile. “I collect olive oil too.”
I glance around the shelves as if I could read the labels, which I can’t because of the low-lighting and the fact that all the writing is in Italian. Renzo reaches over my head, practically pressing his musky armpit into my face to pull out a smooth, sculpted wooden box. When he opens it, a gold and black bottle lies in a bed of red, satin cloth.
“This is probably more expensive than anything you own,” Renzo says, stroking the bottle with his large palm. He’s unapologetic about his frankness, even when it’s offensive. This time, he’s probably right. “It’s a €30,000 extra virgin bottle. After warming the oil in my hands, I’ll pour it all over your ass cheeks and then slide the neck of a wine bottle right up your backdoor…”
He grips the mouth of the wine bottle in the most threatening way I can imagine. My ass puckers and clenches at the visualsuggestion of what it might be like to take something as wide and thick as a wine bottle up my ass.
“So tell me.”
“Why do I have to love you for this to work?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
He can’t make me say it.
I plead with him softly, “Renzo.”
“Turn around.”
His command is clear. I don’t dare defy him, but I must. I have to be stronger than my fears. I don’t move.
“I said turn around. Either that or you admit your feelings.”
“I don’t have–”
He cuts me off by flipping me around and pressing me face first into the wall between his shelves and shelves of wine bottles. I yelp as Renzo pins me to the wall. He promised me that he would study with me in exchange for sitting nude and instead, he’s punishing me for staying level-headed throughout this whole stupid ordeal Nicki tricked us into.
He’ll thank me later when he wakes up and realizes that he doesn’t give a shit about me or our baby.
“Tell me how you feel,” Renzo growls. “This is your last chance, Geralynn. If you don’t say it now, that’s it. I’m pouring olive oil on your ass cheeks and then…I’ll take what I want until I’m done…”
I glance over my shoulder at Renzo, barely able to move but refusing to look away from him until I physically can’t anymore. He looks so fucking sexy… and sick in the fucking head. Why does this man get me so wet? I hate him so much for everything that comes out of his mouth and for the way my body responds by dripping like a faucet whenever Renzo expresses one fucked up desire or another.
My pussy throbs violently and I’m so fucking grateful Renzo can’t tell how his sick desires affect me physically. I can’t controlmy body. I can control how I think logically about his cravings and I know they’re wrong enough that I keep fighting him off. I could convince him to stop by confessing my love for Renzo, but… I already know which would hurt more.
“Last chance,” Renzo snarls, his voice dripping with hatred and resentment that I recognize far more than anything else. “I begged for your love, Geralynn. I’m still begging. But if you don’t want love… if you would rather I press you against the wall and brutally fuck your ass instead, I can do that too.”
I want him to see the hatred written all over my face and shrink away in defeat. Instead, Renzo’s cock bulges visibly in the front of his pants. The more I loathe him and push him away, the harder he gets. And the more Renzo pushes my boundaries and forces me into these twisted situations… the more soaking wet I get between my thighs. It takes mesecondsto cum with Renzo touching me because he knows exactly how to tap into my most fucked up desires and make me feel like I’m not such a goddamn demon for needing his type of fucked up touch to cum.
