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“Just as I thought,” he says. “Red is your color.”
My stomach clenches at the compliment, but probably mostly at the way he’s staring at me. “Thank you.”
His lips quirk and he leans forward and out of the shadows. “Come here,mi flor.”
I take about ten steps forward until I’m standing near his feet. My arms itch to cover my breasts, but I force them to stay at my sides.
Vicente’s tattooed hand reaches forward, his finger sliding down the red lace, starting at the waistband and traveling to where warmth gathers at my entrance. “You wore these because you knew I liked them, didn’t you?”
My stance widens at his touch, and while I’d like to say it’s because he made me unbalanced, I know it’s because I want his fingers to touch more of me.
“They were the ones I saw first,” I lie.
He tsks. “We both know that’s not true.” His fingers slide inside the material at the side, his thumb on the outside like he’s feeling the material, but the backs of his fingers gently rub over my clit and lips.
I gasp, my hand flying to his shoulder for balance as my head drops back.
“Along with the no excuses rule is the no lying rule. Don’t lie to me, Mariella. Not here.”
My breath comes out in a shaky exhale as his fingers continue to barely brush against my pussy. With a swiftness I wasn’t prepared for, he grips my underwear in his hand and yanks me forward. I fall into him, my breasts in his face as I try to right myself.
He leans back and finds my gaze. “Why did you wear these?” he asks, letting them go and having them slap against my skin.
I inhale sharply. “For you.”
“Because you were jealous. You couldn’t stand the thought of me fucking someone else, could you?”
I shake my head and he stands up, forcing me to take a few steps back. “You’re going to learn to use your words, Mariella. One way or another.”
With his fingers around my wrist, he leads me to the bed, making sure I’m centered in the middle and on my back.
“Have you ever been restrained before?” he asks.
I shake my head, but when he gives me a stern look, I say, “No.”
He starts with my left foot and makes his way to each corner, cuffing my ankles and wrists until I’m stretched across the bed, completely open and vulnerable to him. My heart rate triples. I’m afraid of what he’ll do to me, and yet, excited at the prospect at the same time.
With his back to me as he digs into a drawer, he asks, “Were you jealous of Nicola? That she’d experience something you’ve yet to?”
My nostrils flare as I inhale, angry he’s making me admit to what nobody wants to confess to. Of course everyone has the ability to be jealous, but nobody wants to admit that they are. Admitting to feelings of jealousy means confessing you have an insecurity or feel inadequate in some way, and who wants to come off as anything but secure and confident?
“I didn’t want you to be with anyone else,” I say.
“Why?” he asks, turning around.
My eyes go to something in his hand, but I can’t make out what it is. “Because I want you…to fuck me.” I add on the last bit at the last second. I don’t need him to think I want him for anything else other than a good lay. That’s all I should want anyway.
“Hmm.” He walks closer, kneeling on the mattress at my side, keeping one arm behind his back. “Even though you know what I do?”
I hesitate, hating that he had to bring it up. We’re both aware of all the facts but putting it to the back of my head makes it easier to do this with him. If I think about it too much, my conscience tries to make me make good decisions.
“You know I’m aware of what you do,” I say with a bite.
“I think you try to forget. I think you find ways to make me a good person so you can sleep at night.”
“Is that wrong?” I ask.
“It’s pointless.”
