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He looks just as fucking good as always, his suit fitting him like a second skin, his dark eyes mesmerizing, and the stubble on is perfectly shaped jaw calling out to me to rub my hands over. Or my thighs. But the quirk of his lips begins to grow at my examination of him and it only makes me mad.
“Yeah, what the fuck is this?” I ask, pulling the envelope of photos out of my purse and throwing it at his feet.
Vicente barely gazes down before meeting my eyes. “Did you not look at them?”
“Of course I did, but why are you sending them to me? Seems like a threat, Vicente.”
He chuckles, and it’s a dark, frightening sound. Pushing off the wall, he steps closer, walking me backward into the room I just left.
“Why would I threaten you?” he questions, his head tilting to the side.
In his tone, it almost sounds rhetorical, but the harsh dip of his brows and the intense look on his face lets me know he’s really asking. Like I’d have an answer.
“I don’t know,” I reply quietly, my ass hitting the table behind me. I’m trapped between it and him.
He takes a deep breath, his body so close to mine. His hand comes up, a finger dancing across my neck as he stares into my eyes.
It’s not fair to be this handsome, this powerful, and this goddamn scary. I’m too afraid, too enraptured, and too aroused to leave.
“Who do you belong to?” His voice is a low, gravelly sound in my ear as his chest presses against mine.
I hesitate, not wanting to answer. I’m still mad at how he ended things. I still don’t know why he did the things he did, but when I’m near him, I’m caught in a spell.
His hand snakes down my arm until his thumb finds the slightly raised skin on my hand—his initials still displayed there.
“Who do you belong to, Mariella?” he asks again.
“You,” I whisper, but it almost sounds like a question.
“Say it again,” he demands. “Or did you already find someone else to give yourself to?” His other hand sliding to my neck until his fingers press lightly on the sides of my throat.
Desire blooms, and all I want is for him to choke me while he’s fucking me.
“I belong to you.”
“Did you forget,amorcito?”
“No, I didn’t forget.” My breath hitches when he leans down and lets his teeth drag across the side of my neck. “But—”
“Do I need to mark you again?” he asks before lightly biting into my flesh.
My knees wobble, because even though his last mark was painful, and despite the fact that I have no idea that we’d ever work, something in me wants to say yes. Mark me, hurt me, make me bleed, but only if you’re capable of bringing me the pleasure I deserve—the love I crave.
Struggling to find a suitable response and debating between an answer I want to give and one he wants to hear, I stutter through my reply. “I-I don’t know. If you want to, you…you can.” I swallow. “But—”
His hand grips my throat tightly, forcing me to look up at him. He’s beautiful. Just as handsome as you’d think an angel would be, but there’s a darkness to his features that lets you know he was the angel cast from Heaven. There’s nothing pure about Vicente Moreno.
“Was I asking for permission, Mariella?” I shake my head. “No, I wasn’t,” he says, squeezing tighter, restricting my airflow. “And why is that?”
“Because you don’t need permission,” I manage to get out.
He flashes me a wicked smile. “Good girl. I don’t need permission, because you’re my property,” he states, lifting my hand so I can see his brand. “And I do whatever I want with my property.”
After releasing my throat, his fingers trail down my chest, stopping to cup and squeeze my left breast before journeying down my stomach, where desire swirls within.
I’ve never been able to resist him. Even if the way he touches and talks to me is unnatural, it’s exactly what turns me on. He knows he has me on a short leash, and his grip is tight.
Even now, knowing he was never my savior and not understanding why he did what he did, I can’t find it in me to run away. I should slap him and storm off, but I won’t and he knows it.
