Page 22 of His Nephew's Ex
“Yes, I am.”
I trace the soft skin underneath her ear. She tenses. “What if I said I’m not on board with being yours, Simeone?”
“You don’t have a choice. I claim what I want, Loriana. And right now, I want you.”
She puts her hands on my chest and pushes me off her. The expression on her face is a mixture of annoyance, desire, and aversion.
“We’re done for tonight,” she huffs. “Get out.”
I watch her for a moment, just to see her squirm. Then I pull out of her and stand. Reaching down, I grab her wrist and lift her to her feet. “I won’t let a woman talk to me that way. Consider yourself lucky that it amuses me more than anything else.”
That, and I’d love nothing more than to tie her to the bed and continue fucking her in ways that she’ll never forget. Not yet, though. She’s tender and sensitive, with her first experience being quite explosive. But it will happen again soon.
Very soon.
I smirk and look her up and down, taking in her naked body again. The sight of her curves, her perky breasts. Already, I feel my cock swelling. For a second, I contemplate throwing her on the bed and fucking her again. Wouldn’t take much. But for tonight, I’ll leave her alone. After all, the best things come to those who wait.
And oh, do I intend to enjoy this new entanglement.
“Look at you. All red, swollen, and fucked out.” I trace her lips with my finger. She gasps, attempting to twist her face away, but I yank her chin back and force her to face me.
“You better not touch another man,” I warn again. “I’m a jealous kind of man.”
“Get out.” Her voice rises, and this time she means it. The corners of my mouth twitch. Her feistiness turned me on, and if she keeps it up, I’ll have to shut her up.
“I’m only leaving because I have some business to take care of,” I tell her, finally letting go of her chin. “But don’t think for a second that we’re done with this topic. Or that I wouldn’t fuck you again if I had time.”
Loriana just stares at me and shakes her head.
I lean close and kiss her, hard, on the mouth. “Remember,stellina. I’ll come always come to take what is mine.”
Then I’m striding out of her bedroom, buttoning my suit jacket on the way.
My cock is already hardening again, eager to test the limits of her innocence further. But I have a job to do, some promises to keep. So I’ll take care of those, put my playthings in order, and give her time to miss the feel of my cock.
A few more days and she’ll be begging me for the chance to experiment. And I can’t wait.
Until then, I’ll happily settle for being her midnight temptation.
8
Loriana
My phone buzzes against the mahogany bar top like a venomous snake, its screen lighting up with another unknown number. I don’t need to read the message to know it’s another threat—the third one this week. My hands shake as I reach for the device, even though every rational part of my brain screams at me to ignore it.
You smell like jasmine and betrayal. Sweet dreams, little whore.
The words hit me like ice water, making my blood freeze in my veins. I drop the phone so fast it skitters across the bar, coming to rest against a half-empty bottle of whiskey that suddenly looks very appealing despite the early hour.
“Everything alright, boss?” Clay’s voice cuts through the silence as he shoulders his way out of the storage room, a case of beer balanced against his hip. His weathered features tighten when he spots my ashen face and the way my hands won’t stop shaking.
“Fine,” I lie, shoving the phone into my apron pocket before he can see the screen. “Just tired. It’s been a long week.”
A long week since I let Simeone Codella claim my virginity with the expertise of a man who’s mastered the art of complete possession. A long week of waking up with phantom touches burning across my skin and the memory of his voice promising that I belong to him now, whether I like it or not. A long week of trying to convince myself that the anonymous threats are just a coincidence, not connected to the dangerous world I’ve willingly stepped into.
Clay sets down the beer with more force than necessary, the bottles clinking together like wind chimes in a storm. “Loriana, I’ve been working for you for three years. I know when you’re lying, and you’re doing a piss-poor job of it right now.”
I meet his gray eyes, seeing the paternal concern that’s become as familiar as my own reflection. Clay lost his daughter in a car accident five years ago—drunk driver, wrong place, wrong time—and I know he’s transferred some of that protective energy onto me. It’s both touching and terrifying, because if something happens to me, I’ll be putting him through that loss all over again.
