I stride over to my husband, the sight of me in my strappy corset ensemble stopping any conversations dead in their tracks.
Warm air caresses my bare flesh, a slight breeze threading through my hair as I approach Dante. His acquaintances notice me before he does, staring at me open-mouthed. Jessica jolts, her jaw dropping as I saunter past her and reach for Dante’s arm.
His face is impenetrable granite as he finally notices me. Undeterred, I grab him by the edge of his undone bow tie.
“I believe you have some business to conclude, Mr. Bellanti.”
The corners of his delectable lips jerk up in what might have been a smile had he let it bloom. Instead, he nods to his associates.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. Stay as long as you like, but I’m turning in for the night.”
9
Frankie
Leadingmy new husband away from the firepit and toward the Bellanti estate, I quickly realize what an amateurish move I’ve just made: I don’t actually know where his room is.
Dante walks slightly behind me, allowing me to put on a show of leading him by his tie, but I start to slow down as we reach the back of the house.
Before I can turn around, Dante solves the problem by scooping me up unceremoniously and carrying me inside. His face is a mixture of amusement with a touch of annoyance. Seriously? Is this a chore for him? Most men trip over themselves at any opportunity for sex, and he’s acting like I’ve inconvenienced him.
Stopping a moment to kick the door closed behind us, he strides down the hall as if I weigh nothing in his arms.
“That was a neat little power play there, Francesca.”
He hasn’t even glanced at my breasts—and it’s not like he can miss them popping over the top of my corset.
I bristle. “That’s not my name.”
Dante takes a left. The halls are dark, rich wood paneling, the floor, beautifully neutral slabs of stone. “It’s the name on the contract I signed. Francesca Carina Abriana Abbott…Bellanti. So many lovely names and you choose to go byFrankie.”
How rude can he be? “That’s right. So get used to it.”
“Never.”
He adjusts his grip on me to open a door, then carries me inside and locks it behind us.
The room is cavernous and richly appointed with carved furniture and sumptuous fabrics, though I can’t see much detail since a small lamp on the nightstand provides the only light.
Without another word, Dante tosses me onto the massive bed and flicks his tie onto the floor. My eyes track his body, the lines of his broad chest and muscular arms beneath his tux. The promise of a tight abdomen. The impressive bulge in the front of his pants.
Oh my God.
I’d thought he wasn’t interested in doing this—that we’d be merely going through the motions—yet he’s sporting an erection that clearly says otherwise. My chest wells with satisfaction, and I feel a quick surge of feminine power seeing the proof of his lust. I guess I do have something over him after all. He’s attracted to me. He wants me.
Dante slips out of his tux jacket and tosses it onto the floor as if the expensive fabric means nothing. Next are his cufflinks, those big hands and their strong fingers working the little gold adornments loose. Dropping them onto the nightstand, he slips out of his vest and begins to unbutton his shirt. I’m pretty sure the mass pressing against his zipper just got bigger. I grin a little. I’ll have him eating out of my hand in no time.
Now that he’s disrobing, and it’s clear that this is actually happening, I’ve lost some of my resolve—but the lust coursing through me makes up for it. My body thrums with charged, sexual heat. My thong is getting wetter by the second as I watch him undress piece by piece. Taking my cue, I sit and reach behind me to tug the stays that hold the corset together.
I’ve barely gotten the ribbons loose when Dante stops me, pulling my hands away and shoving me back down on the bed. My breath hitches as he pins my wrists above my head with one hand, his face lowering over mine. Tingles race over my skin, my pulse jacking even higher at his dominance. He leans close, as if he’s going to say something in my ear—but instead he grips my chin, crushing his mouth against mine.
The warmth of his tongue invades me, and a gasp strangles in my throat as his weight presses me into the mattress. My lips throb from the memory of our kiss earlier, the pulse between my legs beating with demand. But this time is different. This kiss is harsher, more aggressive. Dante doesn’t hold anything back.
Still trapping me with his body, he grinds the kiss into me harder, claiming my mouth completely, flaming pleasure with every slight twist of his head and movement of his lips. His other hand roughly pulls the half-loose corset down, over my breasts and hips, where it gets stuck. With a grunt, he pulls away from me and rips the delicate fabric right in two, impatiently whipping the lingerie across the room. My breasts bounce from the movement, drawing his gaze. I touch my swollen lips, wondering if they’re bruised from his kiss.
Dante moves over me again to unclasp my stockings from the garter. Then he hooks a finger around the crotch of my thong, his knuckle brushing my pussy lips, so he can pull my underwear off in one rough tug. Adrenaline pumps through me, my breath coming faster. My husband doesn’t look me in the eye as he whisks off my garter and then my heels, leaving only my stockings, and climbs back on top of me.
Tingles of pleasure bombard me, darting between my legs. I’ve never felt so naked. Dante is still in his shirt and pants and I arch against him, all my most sensitive places rubbing up against the fine fabric and his muscular body beneath. I’m unable to stop myself as a gasp works free from my lips.
