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“It’s all right. I was just thinking.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head.
“Later.”
As we reach the elevator in the basement garage of his building, he’s holding the door open for me. His hand’s resting in the air just inches from the small of my back, and it feels so protective. I love it.
“There are cameras in here,piccolina. If there weren’t, I’d have you against the wall.”
“I want that.”
We’re riding up alone in an elevator that only has a biometric panel. There’s only one destination, his penthouse. Thinking about fucking right now is exactly the distraction I need. Some people might think that’s crazy after nearly dying, but it’s a relief. Like it confirms we’re still alive.
“Elevator sex?”
He cocks an eyebrow as he asks.
“Yes. I’ve never had it, but I want it. I want it with you.”
I clarify that. I’ve thought it was hot in movies. I’ve even thought that I’d like to try it. But I’ve never thought about it with a specific guy. Now it’s all I can think about. When we step out of the elevator, his hand returns to my lower back, but now he’s adding some pressure to it. It feels possessive and protective. I love that even more.
When we walk into Gabriele’s place, I take time to look around. I didn’t do that the last time. We were too focused on something else for me to notice anything about it. When I left, it was dark in most of the place. Now I sweep my gaze around the living room. It’s the comfiest looking place I’ve ever seen. Every overstuff armchair and the sofas scream “take a nap on me.” The sunshine pours in through pristine windows. There are floor to ceiling bookshelves brimming with books. There’s not even enough space for all of them to stand with their spines out. There are some stacked on top of each other or standing in front of the others.
He leads me into the kitchen and opens the fridge, which I can see is overflowing with fruits, vegetables, and freshly sliced deli meat. I don’t think there’s a single thing in there with a preservative.
He laughs when he sees my face.
“I can cook, Sinead. I don’t order out that often. My mom made sure I wouldn’t starve when I moved out and went to college.”
“But your kitchen is huge for one person.”
That thought— or rather one that goes along with it —makes my smile drop.
He pulls me close and kisses me so hard and passionately that my toes curl in my shoes.
“You are the only woman I’ve ever brought here. I’ve lived here five years. I haven’t been a monk, but no one’s been here other than family. I like my sanctuary. I’ve never lived with a woman other than my mother.”
He has a look on his face I can’t read. But it’s gone a moment later when he lets go of me and grabs a glass from the cabinet. He pulls a carafe of freshly squeezed juice from the fridge and hands me a glass of it.
“I was scared you were about to have another panic attack. You’re still really pale. You need some sugar.”
I sip, then practically inhale it. It’s a blend of orange, pineapple, mango, with a hint of carrots and something else. It’s delicious. He pours me another glass, which I down just as fast. When he reaches to pour me a third, I shake my head. While he pours himself one, I rinse my glass, then get ice and water from his fridge door. I sip that at a more graceful rate.
He takes my hand and leads me back into the living room. I take a seat on a sofa as I watch him take off his suit coat. I try not to flinch when he takes off his gun holster. He takes the weapon out, checks it, puts it back in the holster, before setting it on the coffee table. He kicks off his loafers as he rolls up his sleeves. I squeak when he picks me up and takes my place on the sofa. He swings his legs up and arranges me, so I’m draped over him. I kick off my shoes and rest my head on his chest. I don’t know how long we stay like that, but we both appreciate the silence.
I can feel he’s hard, and I know I’m wet. But neither of us makes a move until we both seem to need something more at the same moment. Before I know it, we’re kissing, and he’s rolling us, so that I’m lying on the sofa. My hands roam all over him as his hand squeezes my breast. His other hand slides up my thigh and under my skirt. He yanks down my thong. He pulls back and kneels while tugging it off my legs. He flings it behind me, making it land in the fireplace.
“Wear panties again,piccolina, and I will light that fireplace and burn them all.”
Burn them all? That sounds as though I’d be keeping them here. Maybe it’s a figure of speech. He moves to settle his shoulders between my legs, but I put a hand on his shoulder and push.
“You told me the next time we were together, I would decide. After that, you’d be in control. You also said that I had a spanking coming for not answering you when you asked me a question. Is all of that still true? Can they happen today?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Daddy, I want to taste you. I want to make you come that way. Then I want you to take over. If that means spanking me, then whatever else you want, fine. If it’s the other way around, fine. I don’t want to decide right now. I feel too scattered to do more than know I want to give you a blow job and have more incredible sex. I need…”
