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I scoff. “What, in all the twenty-something years you’ve been alive, you know about wreaking havoc on a man’s penis?” Two can play at being a smartass. “I sincerely doubt that, princess. Maybe just stick to what you know best, being seen and not heard.”
She folds her arms over her chest; I’ve hit a nerve. Good.
There’s only one way for her to learn.
“Spoken like a true asshat,” she mutters.
Suffice it to say, the rest of the trip is suffered in silence, and it’s the longest fucking forty-five minutes of my life.
She holds her own, I’ll give her that. She also doesn’t like losing an argument and biting back seems to be her specialty.
Yet, here I sit, with my thigh burning from her touch.
My cock straining in my pants.
My heart is racing because while I dislike her attitude and snark, my body likes everything about her. My body is on fire for her, the fucking traitor.
She’s like poison, slowly seeping into my veins, and like a horny fucking teenager, there’s nothing I can actually do about it.
When we pull up to the gates, finally, I enter the passcode and they slowly slide open.
“Welcome home,” I mutter.
I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure she whispersfuck youin Russian.
8
KATIYA
Rolling up to his ‘castle’is not precisely as enchanting as it may seem.
It’s a beautiful old stone building, with turrets at each corner giving it an even-greater medieval appearance … who am I kidding … Itismedieval! Much like him in some respects.
A part of me is enjoying the taunts at his expense and watching him get hot under the collar. I admit, he does compose himself rather well, and I know this is probably not the best person to be taunting.
I don’t have a death wish, but as I’m becoming increasingly aware of the fact that if they wanted to do away with me, they could have done it by now.
I’m suspicious, of course, of their overall motive. But, when all is said and done, what choice do I have? I have no means of communication with the outside world, and I sure as hell can’t make any attempt to run away. Where the devil are we anyway?
Essentially, we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.
My taunts towards him sexually are, unbeknown to him, just a ruse to try and take the heat off myself, and it seemed to have worked, at least for the time being.
I may hate his guts, but one thing is for certain, Marco Medici is one easily wound-up man.
I could not only see but feel the tension rising in him. I think he must have a very stressful life. The veins in his forehead just about popped when I started talking about his penis.
I have absolutely no doubt he knows exactly what to do with it, and the thought stirs me.
He is one sexy man.
Handsome to the extreme, too good-looking, and yes, there is such a thing.
A man like that can buy anything. Get anything. Have anything. But I bet he’s lonely as fuck.
He has no wedding ring.
No woman waiting at home. No children. Not even a fucking dog.
