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Nothing. A blank slate.
His confession only made me miss Aiden more. My brother had comforted me for years. That was partly why I never lived alone. Even in college, I had to be near him to quell the bad dreams. Just knowing he was in the same house seemed to keep the darkness at bay.
As promised, I followed his orders and turned, so my back faced him, giving him the perfect view of my bare ass. It was too late to rethink the pink thong beneath my short dress. I lunged off the wall, spiraling down like a plane falling out of the sky. Marcello wrapped his arms around my middle, and the force of the crash knocked us to the ground.
He rolled on the grass, moving me on top of him with ease, my chest pinned to his. I expelled the air from my lungs, relieved I didn’t break any bones. My eyes found his blue ones as his cock grazed my inner thigh through his pants. Jesus. He was packing some serious heat below the belt, like a freaking missile aimed right at me, ready to launch.
Pressing my palm to his chest, I sat up, the sudden movement creating friction between us.
“Fuck,” he groaned, reaching between us to fix himself. “Stop moving for a second.”
I rocked my hips, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. “So you’re human after all? And here I thought you were a robot.”
I laughed like a hyena, which earned me a scowl from Marcello. His fingers jabbed my sides as he lifted me off his rock solid hard-on, setting me on the grass beside him. He pushed himself up from the grass with the gracefulness of a tiger. Though, don’t let this beast fool you because there was a savage prowling beneath his beautiful exterior.
Marcello ran his hands down the front of his pants, ignoring the fact I gave him a raging boner. He busied himself with cleaning off his pants and jacket. God forbid a speck of dirt violated his carefully maintained layers of perfection.
I turned away from him and crossed over the flagstones, jamming my finger into the button on the call box. A man’s deep voice boomed through the speaker, asking me to state my business at Wellington Manor.
“It’s Alexandrea Wellington,” I said.
I heard a buzzing sound right before the gates opened inward.
Marcello closed the gap between us, his dark eyebrows knitted. “What are you doing, Alex?”
“I’m having dinner with my family.”
“Like hell you are.” He grabbed my arm, his fingerprints marking my flesh as he dragged me away from the gate. “Only good girls get privileges. And you’ve just lost yours until Luca comes home. Get in the car.”
I swatted at his hand, anything to get him off me. With little effort, he opened the passenger door and forced me inside the car. He was so much stronger, and with his tree trunks for arms and massive body hulking over me, it was impossible to fight him.
“Try to run again,” he threatened, “and I will handcuff you to the bed.”
“That sounds like foreplay,” I joked. But as our eyes met, I startled at the chilling look on his face, and a wave of fear rolled over me. I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll behave myself.”
He leaned over me to grab the seatbelt and winked. “Good girl.”
Marcello’s delicious scent filled my nostrils as his fingers grazed my breasts. I grabbed his hand, molding it to my right breast. I could see the hesitation in his eyes. Sure, this was wrong, but I needed this. Needed him. And my grandfather was giving me an out with Luca.
Nothing seemed to satisfy the hunger inside me. My doctor attributed my overactive sex drive to a combination of my medicine and my diagnosis. He said it wasn’t uncommon for people with PTSD to use sex as a coping mechanism. Over the past nine months, I had gone through many vibrators, and I was dying for the real thing.
Marcello smirked, then moved his hand from my breast. “So much for behaving yourself, princess.”
“I’ve been a bad girl, Marcello.” I licked my lips. “Maybe you should spank me.”
His eyes flickered with excitement. “Luca won’t be happy with you.”
“Don’t tell him,” I said in a seductive tone. “This can be our little secret.”
He held my gaze for a moment, considering my offer, and then shut the door. Damn him. As if I hadn’t thrown myself at him, Marcello got behind the wheel and went back to his usual cold, reserved self. He slipped his sleek sports car into reverse and flew down Founders Way like we were on the Autobahn. I clutched the door handle and leaned back against the headrest, my hands beaded with sweat from clinging onto the door so tightly.
