Page 470 of Rosetti Family New York
"You shouldn't." He stalks closer, backing me against the exposed brick wall. "Worrying about me isn't part of this arrangement."
"Oh good, another rule. You should write them all down—maybe in a nice bullet-point list? I could laminate it. Make it official. 'Things Carmela Is Not Allowed to Feel, Volume One.'"
He grunts. Typical.
I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "The way you looked at me tonight, the way you touched me in the car. Was that part of this…this arrangement?"
"You don't know what you're talking about." His voice drops lower, more dangerous.
"I know you want me." The words hang between us like a challenge. My heart pounds so hard I'm sure he can hear it. "I know you think about me when you shouldn't. And I know you're lying to yourself about what this is."
Van braces one hand against the brick beside my head, caging me against the wall. The midnight blue silk of my gown creates a barrier between us, but I can feel the heat radiating from his body, can smell his expensive cologne mixed with something darker, more primal.
"You have no idea what I think about," he growls, his free hand fisting in the silk at my waist. "No idea what I want to do to you."
"Then show me." The words slip out before I can stop them, and I see something snap in his control.
His mouth crashes against mine with desperate hunger, all pretense abandoned. The kiss is raw need and days of building tension finally breaking free. His tongue invades my mouth, claiming it like he owns it, and I melt into him with a moan.
I fist my hands in his shirt as he pins me against the brick wall, the rough texture scraping against the silk of my dress. He tastes like whiskey and power, and I'm drowning in it. My core throbswith each stroke of his tongue, and I can feel myself getting wetter by the second.
"Fuck," he breathes against my lips, one hand tangling in my curls while the other gathers bunches of midnight silk in his grip. "I've wanted this for days. Wanted to bend you over my desk and fuck you until you scream my name."
The confession sends liquid heat spiraling through me. His words are filthy, possessive, and they make my core clench with need. He's rough and commanding and absolutely fucking dirty.
"Van," I gasp as his mouth moves to my throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin below my ear. The sharp bite of pain mixed with pleasure makes me whimper.
"Tell me you want this," he commands against my neck, his breath hot and demanding. His hand slides down to cup my ass through the silk, squeezing hard enough to make me arch into him. "Tell me you want me to fuck you."
"Yes." The word tears from my throat as his other hand finds the slit in my dress, fingers ghosting over my bare thigh. "I want you. I need you to…"
He captures my mouth again, swallowing whatever I was about to say. The kiss turns more demanding, more possessive, his tongue claiming mine as his hand slides higher under my dress. When his fingers brush against the damp lace of my panties, we both groan.
"So fucking wet already," he growls against my mouth, pressing the lace against my clit through the fabric. "Such a good girl, getting ready for me."
The praise makes me dizzy. No one's ever called me a good girl while doing something so dirty, and the contrast sends shockwaves through my system. I buck against his hand, desperate for more pressure, more friction, more everything.
"Please," I whimper, not even sure what I'm begging for.
"Please what?" His fingers trace the edge of my panties, teasing without giving me what I need. "Use your words."
"Touch me," I gasp, my hips rolling against his hand. "Please touch me properly."
"Like this?" He pushes the lace aside and slides one finger through my slick folds, making me cry out. "Fuck, you're soaked. Is this what you've been thinking about? Me touching your pretty little pussy?"
I can't form words, can only nod frantically as he circles my clit. His surgeon's hands know exactly how to touch me, exactly how much pressure to apply to make me shake against the wall.
"I need to taste you," he says suddenly, dropping to his knees in front of me. The sight of this powerful man kneeling at my feet makes my core clench with want.
He pushes my dress up around my waist and hooks his fingers in the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legswith agonizing slowness. When the lace hits the floor, he spreads my thighs with his hands, exposing me completely to his hungry gaze.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, pressing hot kisses to my inner thighs. "I'm going to make you come on my tongue, and then I'm going to fuck you so hard you forget your own name."
The filthy promise makes me whimper with need. When his mouth finally makes contact with my core, I nearly scream. His tongue laps at my clit with broad strokes before focusing on the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Van, oh god," I moan, my hands tangling in his dark hair as he works me over. He slides two fingers inside me, curling them to hit that spot that makes me see stars.
"That's it," he growls against my clit, the vibrations making me shake. "Ride my face. Show me how much you need this."
