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Jeanie
His suite is in the center of the villa near all the other main family members. We pass Mirella in the hall on the way, and if she finds it strange that we’re walking along together so early, she doesn’t say anything. She only smiles and says good morning.
Even though he doesn’t live there anymore, the rooms remind me so much of him, but with much more personality. The main living area’s covered in fine rugs and antique furniture, and paintings hang on the walls. Gavino goes into his small kitchenette to make more coffee.
“What’s with all this stuff?” I ask, looking at the old statues and books and decorative items stuffed on bookcases and shelving units.
“I got into antiques for a while when I was younger,” he says, coming back into the room. He stands behind me as I stare at a small statue of women with enormous breasts, a huge middle section, a small head. “Fertility goddesses. Very old.”
“How old?”
“Couple thousand years.” He leans forward and kisses my neck. “I was a young man with too much money to blow.” I shiver with excitement, but don’t fall for his bait, not yet. I drift away, looking at the books and the photographs. I spot Gavino and his brothers looking a lot younger, and one of Karah with a baby in her arms—Emilio, I think—and another with Elise and Mirella and Olivia, probably from around the time they all first joined the family, all standing around on a beach looking happy.
This place is so different from his other house. There’s personality here and history. That house is devoid of all that, a beautiful place with lovely design and great amenities, but lacking character. All that’s here and then some. It’s hard to imagine Gavino was ever the kind of man to keep photographs of his family around and who bought expensive antiques and cared about the way his rooms looked, but the man standing near me and the man that lived here are two different people. I wonder if I would’ve liked that version of him the way I like this one.
I turn to look at him and he’s watching me with a tilted head. I hug myself, taking a deep breath. There’s a battle going on inside my chest, and one part of me wants to tell him the truth, and the other wants to keep moving forward without giving him all of me.
I’m terrified that if I let him have it all, he won’t need what’s left over, and I’ll be tossed aside.
Or worse, he’ll have his brothers kill me, just like Sonia.
“Come here,” he says, not moving. He puts his coffee down on a side table.
“Why?”
“Because I want you to come here.”
I hesitate, chewing my lip. I know what he wants. I want it too, with every inch of my body, but I’m afraid. I keep letting myself drift deeper and deeper into him, and there doesn’t seem to be an end.
“Gavino—”
“Come here,” he says, a command now.
And I have to obey. I walk forward slowly, hips moving almost unconsciously. He watches, licks his lips.
“Good girl,” he says once I’m standing in front of him. “Now, I brought you here for another reason.”
“I assumed it was something you couldn’t do in public.”
His lips twist. “That’s exactly right, but it’s not what you’re thinking.” He reaches forward, moving close before I realize it, and he grips my hair. I gasp, looking in his eyes. “You nearly fucked it up earlier at Mark’s place. You spoke out of turn.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard what I said. I told you to let me handle it, but you decided to go off script.”
I grind my jaw, glaring. “He opened up because of me.”
“You got lucky.” He pulls my hair and turns me, pushing me to the back of the couch. “And now you need to be punished.”
“Gavino,” I say, sucking in a breath as he turns me around and yanks down my pants with one rough tug. I look over my shoulder, cheeks burning with desire and rage, and his palm comes down hard against my ass.
I gasp in shock. He spanks me again and again, and he pulls my hair harder, as another hard blow lands on my naked skin. I wiggle my hips uncontrollably, going crazy for this, and angry that he’s pushing me so hard. He’s spanking me, punishing me, all because I didn’t do what he asked.
He leans forward and kisses my throat. He spanks me again but this time he cups my pussy with his palm, pressing against it like he did that first day in Malcolm’s office, except now his skin against my naked wetness is like heaven piercing down into my spine. He purrs in my ear and presses tighter against me.
“Soaking wet and all mine,” he whispers and bites my shoulder. “Dripping for me. You like to get spanked, don’t you? Oh, you’re mad that I’m punishing you, but you fucking like it when I bend you over and take you how I want to.”
“Stop it,” I whisper but he’s right, he’s absolutely right. I lean myself closer to him, wanting to breathe in his scent. “And hit me again.”
