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Instead, I’m relegated to another night of self-pleasure in my office before I even dare head upstairs. It’s almost more frustrating than pleasurable at this point—more of a necessity than something I’m actually enjoying. But I can’t justify leaving Gianna alone here, even with security, to go out and find someone to pass an evening with—I’d never be able to live with myself if something happened to her because I wanted to go out and get laid. And more than that, though I don’t want to admit it, no one else would give me what I want. No one else would beher, and I’m beginning to feel consumed with what feels like a forbidden desire for her and her alone.
Once she’s married, it will be different,I remind myself.She’ll be even more off-limits then, and you can go back to New York. Time and distance will fix it, and the desire will fade.But at the present moment, sitting in the dark of my office with my fist around my cock and the memory of Gianna moaning when I slipped and saidgood girl, it doesn’t feel like it will fade.
It feels like it’s only going to get so much worse.
I don’t feel much better in the morning. I slept restlessly, my dreams full of Gianna in lewd, erotic positions that leave me hard as a rock and flooded with guilt when I wake, my hand resignedly wrapping around myself again to ease the frustrated arousal before I get up and start my day.
I haven’t come in my own hand so much since I was a fucking teenager, I think, with no little resentment—towards myself and my lack of control over my own desire, not her—as I dress and head downstairs to breakfast. Gianna is already at the table, wearing a prim, ruffled-front white blouse that makes her look all the more innocent, even though she’s wearing a bit more makeup than usual and a rosy lipstick that accentuates the fullness of her mouth, and instantly makes me think about the possibility of having it wrapped around my cock.
Breakfast is silent. She picks at her food as usual, but I can’t make myself instruct her to eat more. I’m beginning to see more and more that she’s aroused by my authority, by being told what to do and then praised for it, and that’s all the more dangerous for me. It makes her all the more perfect for what I would want, if—
No. There is noif.I repeat that to myself until I can retreat to my office, drawing the curtains so there’s no chance of glimpsing her out at the pool in her bikini again, and I have lunch brought to my desk. I work through dinner, hoping to put enough space between us that the memory of last night can fade a little, but an hour or so after dinner, I hear a knock at the office door.
I let out a slow sigh, knowing who it is. I could ignore it—ignoreher, but that would almost certainly cause more problems than it would fix. “Come in,” I finally call out, swiveling a little in my chair to face the door as Gianna steps in, still wearing the wide-legged black dress pants and ruffled shirt she had on this morning.
It doesn’t stop me from remembering how beautiful she looked, how perfect, leaned over my desk in her evening dress with the silk bunched in her fist, her bare ass reddened and on display for me.
That was a punishment,I remind myself.Not one for play, either. Arealpunishment. Not for your arousal or hers, regardless of the result.
“Is there something you need?” I try to keep my tone as distant and formal as I can, try to ignore the way that she shifts when she sits down in the leather chair across from my desk, reminding me how tender and sore her ass must be and why.
“I know you’re going to argue with me,” Gianna says softly, and I see that stubborn set to her jaw that tells me she has something in mind, and she wants me to listen. “But I think you’re being foolish.”
“Oh?” I frown at her. “I’m not sure I appreciate your tone. Did you already forget last night’s lesson?” I keep my voice hard, cold, even though it’s difficult with her. I want her to remember it as a punishment, not as something she enjoyed. Because if she does—
“That’s exactly my point.” Her chin tips up a little, and I see the quick flutter of her pulse in her throat, a light flush spreading across her neck. If I unzipped her trousers right now, slipped my fingers inside, and touched her panties, they’d be damp. I know they would be, and the thought of it makes my cock twitch eagerly despite myself. “As embarrassed as I was—I had a certain…reactionto it. I don’t really understand it, not yet, but you could teach me. And I think you want that. Iknowit affected you the same way, too. You just don’t want to admit it.”
The last is said defiantly, as if she’s daring me to try to tell her otherwise. If I did, it would be a lie. I don’t want to lie to her, but neither do I want to agree with her that I’m turned on by what happened last night, and make her point for her.
“It doesn’t matter,” I finally tell her, settling on that. “You need to focus on who it is that you want to choose to—”
“That’s mypoint.” Gianna cuts me off, and there’s a light in her eyes that’s daring me to punish her again for it. I feel that aching twitch in my groin again, and I cling to my self-control with everything I have.
Not only does she crave what you do, but she’s also a bit of a brat on top of it.It’s as if she were made for my desires, and innocent as she is, I could teach her to understand those desires even more, to be as perfect for me as I could possibly want.
If only I could do that and still live with myself afterward.
“Why am I marrying someone else?” Her tone turns demanding, her eyes narrowed. “I know you keep saying I’m too young—but what if I don’t want to marry someone who’s basically a boy? Someone who will try to mimic what he thinks a man is by controlling me? Someone who doesn’t know how to please me—” She bites her lip, her lashes fluttering down in a way that I don’t think is intentionally seductive, but makes me ache all over nonetheless. “And you can’t keep saying it’s because we’re technically stepsiblings. That’s bullshit, and you know it—”
“Gianna.” I cut her off. “I should punish you just for speaking to me that way. You need to learn manners—”
“Do it.” There’s that stubborn light in her eyes again, and a glimmer of heat there, too. “I’ll enjoy it, though. I enjoyed it last night. And when I went upstairs—”
“Enough!” I slap my hand down on my desk, startling her. If she tells me what she did when she went upstairs, how she might have touched herself—I won’t be able to stand it. I’ll bend her over the desk and take her in ways not only inappropriate for our relationship, but for how she should lose her virginity, too. “Gianna, all of that aside, the answer is still no.”
“Why?” There’s that hint of a pout again. “This doesn’t make sense—”
I grit my teeth. “Because what I would want from a wife—the things that would keep me satisfied enough to not stray from a woman’s bed, the way you want…those are things I shouldn’t ask of you. That I shouldn’t teach you.”
“What things?”She glares at me. “How can you decide for me that I wouldn’t want it? You don’t know what I think about. What I’m curious about. You don’t know how I felt last night while you—”
“I do.” My jaw hurts from how tightly it’s clenched. “I know exactly how you felt. And I refuse to take advantage of those desires to turn you into what I would want. It would be easy, Gianna, but I’m not sure it would be your choice. And I—”
“You can’t know that.” She swallows hard, and she’s beginning to look defeated. It should make me feel relieved, but it doesn’t.
“You need to let this go, Gianna. I’ve made my decision. I’m sorry if you’re not happy with the choices laid out in front of you, but I’m doing my best to ensure that you have a choice at all. Fontana would have you married to Andre Leone, and I know that’s not what you want. It’s not what I wantforyou. So instead—”
I try to ignore the aching in my groin, shuffling through the papers that I’ve been looking at instead, attempting to turn the conversation in a different direction. “I’ve organized a list of individual dates for you with the candidates, based on who I think you were most compatible with, but if you don’t agree with my observations—”
