Page 29 of Rosetti Family New York
She watches me like I'm the enemy. She's half right. My pulse is a drum in my ears. My heart is in my throat. The fight in her makes me harder than I've ever been, but I don’t show it. Not yet.
"Do you know what happens to women who break the rules?" I ask.
She raises her chin, defiant even now. Especially now. "You'll have to remind me."
I want to kiss her, but I won’t. Not now. This isn't about love. It's about showing her what belongs to her and what belongs to me. I tell her to take her clothes off.
She hesitates. Questions me. Stares at me in defiance.
“Clothes off.” I stare her down. She wants this is almost as much as I do, and despite the fire in her eyes, she obeys.
The sweater goes first, soft and folded on the floor. The pencil skirt is next, and as she shimmies out of it, my gaze is locked on her hips. She kicks it aside. She stands before me in silk and lace, and the sight of her makes me want to ruin her.
"All of it," I say, my voice tight and demanding.
Her eyes never leave mine as she reaches behind, unclasps her bra, lets it fall. Her breasts are small and perfect. Her nipples hard. I wonder if she can feel how much I want her. I wonder if she knows how much she wants me. She slides her panties down, steps out of them. She's bare now, vulnerable and exposed. Her skin is a light gold, her pussy shaven and flushed and dripping. She’s wet. Aroused. She doesn’t try to hide it.
My pulse quickens. I let my eyes travel down her body, hungry, devouring, loving the hitch in her breath as she watches me. She shifts on her feet, her composure cracking just a little. Just enough for me to see the whimper on her lips.
"You think this is a game? You think you can win?"
She doesn't answer. Her silence is louder than any scream. I take out the handcuffs, hear the clink of metal as I test the locks.
Her breath catches. "You can't—"
"Oh yes I can," I say. I pull her to the wall, pin her against it. Her skin is hot against mine. I feel her heart pounding through her chest, almost as loud as my own.
The cuffs snap into place, her wrists pinned against the wall.
She's panting, her eyes wide and excited and furious. "This is bullshit," she says. Her voice breaks halfway through, breathless and wild.
“Spread your legs.”
She hesitates for a moment, like she's not sure if she wants to give me that much power. She moves her feet apart, arms above her head, eyes defiant and ready for me. Her body is perfect. Her pussy is slick and ready, swollen and needy. She moans, and I know she feels every inch of the distance between us.
Her eyes plead with me, but I take my time. I start with my fingertips, tracing her skin, her collarbone, her breasts, her thighs. Soft and teasing, never enough, never where she wants me. She trembles under my touch, strains against the cuffs, and my cock grows into steel.
"Please," she gasps.
But I don't stop, and I don't give in. I run my tongue along her neck, down to the hollow of her throat. I taste the salt of her skin, the heat of her wanting. She arches towards me, her legs shaking, her pussy so wet I could drown in it. I want to unzip my pants and bury myself inside her, but I can't give her the satisfaction. So I keep going, teasing her, denying her, watching her fight to stay in control.
She whimpers again, more desperate this time. "Leonardo—"
I pull away. "You thought you could just leave?"
Her moan is sharp, almost a cry. "I came back, didn’t I?"
I want to say something, want to tell her how much I hate her for making me want her this way, but I don't. Instead, I push her further.
“Legs wider,” I say. “I’m going to lick you now. Everywhere. I’m going to make you beg, make you sorry, make you learn.”
I follow through on my threats, tracing my tongue over her skin, up the inside of her thighs. Her breath quickens, and I know she’s close, so close. Her moans are frantic now, angry and lost, and I keep pushing. I’m inside her head, I’m everywhere except where she needs me. My cock is trapped in my pants, sotight I feel like it might fucking burst as I taste her skin on my tongue.
She twists in the cuffs, gasping, ready to shatter. But I deny her, hold back. Her body is a live wire, electric and burning
“Please finish me off,” she rasps.
I smile. “I told you you’d beg for it. Are you begging?”
