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12
Karma
The door opens and Emanuel strides in. He picks up Michael's now empty plate and sets a crystal creamer next to him, then walks over, collects my plate as well.
"Grazie,Emanuel," I smile at him.
"Prego, signorina." He walks out just another women enters the dining room.
She’s wearing a chef’s apron and a scarf around her neck. Her black dress reaches to just above her knees, and on her feet are six-inch heels. Hangonasecond. Who cooks wearing stilettos? I sit up, stalk her as she walks to the far end of the table. She glances from me to Michael.
Her eyes flare and her lips turn up.
Michael jerks his chin toward the woman, who nods. She takes off her scarf, places it on the table. Then unties the apron and lets it drop on the floor.
Umm, what?
She flips around a chair, steps onto it, then onto the table.
I scowl, "What’s she doing?"
Michael doesn’t reply. I glance toward him and find that he’s watching her progress with a single-minded focus. The kind I thought he'd reserve only for me. My heart begins to thud. It can’t be; this can’t be happening….
"You…you don't mean to..." My voice sounds too loud. I cringe.
She glides across the table to stand in the space between us.
Michael makes a swirling motion with his finger.
"I… I don’t understand." I fold my fingers together in my lap, take a steadying breath. "What’s for dessert?"
"She is."
"What?" My pulse thuds at my temples.
She reaches behind her neck and unhooks the clasp of the dress she’s wearing. It slides down to the surface of the table and pools around her ankles before she kicks it aside. Underneath, she’s completely naked.Look away, look away.I trace the line of her spine down to the curve of her smooth ass…her smooth, perfect butt cheeks. She sinks down onto the table on her back, then lowers her head until it touches the table not a few inches away from me. Her legs are toward Michael.
He rises to his feet, raises the small crystal pitcher and leans over her. He tilts the glass container and a trail of white pours out across the tops of her thighs, across her pussy—completely bare, just the way he likes it. He draws the liquid down one leg, up to the arch of her ankle. Then he places it aside.
"Why…why are you doing this?" My voice comes out too thin, too high.
"You defied me, Beauty; you need to be punished for it."
"What do you mean?" I scowl, "How did I defy you?"
He glances at my dress and I draw in a breath. He means the outfit he laid out, the one which I’d ignored. The asshole. I went against his stupid order and now he wants to what? Put me in my place?
He hangs over the other woman, one hand pressed to the table near her hips for support. He dips his finger into the cream then trails it down her inner thigh. The darkness of his skin against the white of the cream is…obscene. My throat closes. I curl my fingers into fists, dig my nails into the palms of my hands and pain shoots up my arms.
He peers up at me from under sooty lashes and I gasp. His nostrils flare; the skin around his lips is stretched tight. His gaze clashes with mine and I can’t look away. The band around my chest pulls in further. A burning sensation builds behind my eyes. How dare he touch her that way? How dare he try to pull off this exhibitionism in front of me?
I straighten my shoulders; the skin around his eyes creases. He rakes his gaze down my features, over my lips. He stares at my mouth and holy hell, it’s like he’s touching me right there. A moan bubbles up and I swallow it back. I clench my thighs together.
"Look at her."
I shake my head.
"Do it." He lowers that deep voice of his to a hush and I shiver. I drop my gaze to where the cream drips down her inner thigh.
