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“Yes, it’s the perfect shade of pink.”
If you ask me, it looks like an explosion in a cotton candy factory with everything a variation of pink, apart from the fluffy white pillows on the bed. It’s nauseatingly sweet, which reflects Emilia’s current demeanor, I guess.
“Oh, and this is the dress I’m supposed to wear?”
She goes to check out the gown hanging on the door of the armoire. It’s a beautiful dress, white with a tight-fitting bodice embroidered with wildflowers. Its skirt is wide and puffy, made of lace, or tulle, or some other frothy fabric. I have no clue about such things.
“Yes, I picked it specially for you.”
Mouth hanging open, she turns to me. “You chose this?”
I nod, confirming that I did. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. As I walked along the street a week ago, ensuring my sister got to her spa appointment unmolested, I spotted the gown in the window of a small bridal store. It’s nothing like the sleek designer dresses I’ve seen other brides wear, but I knew it would look amazing on Emilia. Though I hadn’t met her at that point, something told me it was the right gown for her. It possesses the same sort of ethereal beauty she does.
“Do you like it?” I ask, suddenly desperate for her approval.
“Alessandro, I love it.”
That’s the first time she’s sounded natural since we got off the plane.
“I’m glad,dolcezza. Now, you need to get ready for Sofia. She’ll be here soon.”
My mother’s stylist will ensure Emilia makes a picture-perfect bride.
“Yes, Alessandro.”
That dull, deferential tone is back in her voice. Fuck that! I need to see how far I can push her newfound desire to obey before she finally claps back at me.
“Strip.”
“What?” Her big brown eyes almost pop out of her head.
“Strip. I want to see what I’m getting before I sign the marriage documents.”
I expect her to rebel immediately, considering how eager she was to defend her virtue when I spanked her, but she simply nods.
“Yes, Alessandro.”
With a vacant expression on her face that makes me want to pull her over my knee again, she removes her clothes. First to go is the white blouse. She unbuttons it and shrugs out of the shapeless garment. Then she unzips her skirt and shimmies out of it. Her movements are perfunctory. She isn’t putting on a sexy display for me here. Her intent is not to seduce, but someone needs to tell that to my cock because it goes rock hard.
I expect to have to give her a further instruction to take off her underwear, but she surprises me by unhooking her bra and sliding the straps off her shoulders. Her tits are spectacular, small but perfectly rounded. The nipples are a dusky pink. The taste of strawberries fills my mouth as I imagine wrapping my lips around them.
Emilia takes off her panties next and stands in front of me, arms by her sides. The only signs of her embarrassment are the red tinge in her cheeks and the stiffness in her posture. This can’t be a comfortable experience for her. My research into Emilia’s life revealed she’s never had a boyfriend. I doubt she’s the type to indulge in a one-night stand, so she’s most likely the virgin her grandfather promised. Yet she doesn’t appear flustered by my inspection of her naked body.
“Now, turn around, slowly. I want to see every inch of what’s mine.”
Her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly and her body hums with displeasure. Regardless of her obvious annoyance, she obeys without question. She lifts herself up onto her tiptoes and rotates with an elegance that reminds me she took ballet lessons when she was younger. I wonder why she stopped when she was fifteen. Did she grow out of it, or was there another reason? The information I gathered on her couldn’t tell me that. Perhaps she’ll reveal all to me one day.
When she turns back to me, Emilia has that placid smile on her face again.
“May I go for my shower now, Alessandro?”
“Not yet.” My response comes out harsher than I intended, but this situation is getting on my nerves. When Emilia said she’dbe a good girl for me, it seems she meant it. She’s being polite, demure, obedient. The trouble is I don’t like her this way.
Stepping up to my bride-to-be, I grab her shoulders and spin her around. I pull her back against me.
“Don’t move,” I instruct her as I curve a hand around her breast.
She gasps as I circle my thumb around her nipple, teasing the silky-smooth skin until a tight peak forms. I squeeze her breast hard, and Emilia pushes her butt back against me. That makes me smile. She can play the ice maiden all she wants, but her body responds to me exactly as I want it to.
