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Vincenzo
Feistier than I expected.
The more the merrier. I enjoy a challenge, and Jordan Delise will certainly give me a good one.
I’m thankful she doesn’t put any of that weird shit in the tub to make her skin slippery. When I snatch her up, she comes up easily, resting on my shoulder. The fact she’s soaking wet helps keep her there. The water soaks into my clothing, gluing her to the fabric so she doesn’t slip and slide all over.
She screams at the top of her lungs, her little fists banging on my back. She writhes around, trying to free herself, but the only thing it does is make me laugh.
“Put me down! You can’t do this! Enzo, stop! You asshole—”
I slap her ass—hard. The sound reverberates through the hallway, and she screeches.
“Mind your language,” I warn her.
“Fuck you!”
I chuckle and slap her again in the same spot.
“I can do this all day, Jordan. Keep it up.”
She’s flailing and fighting, but she weighs nothing, so it isn’t a bother to me.
“No, no! You can’t do this. I need clothes! You can’t bring me outside like this!”
I take long and sure steps, not at all caring she’s naked. What does it matter to me? Most of the staff in this house have seen her like this before.
“Enzo, please! Please don’t do this.”
“You made your choice, Jordan. Next time you’ll know when I say something, I mean it.”
“I know that now! Please, Enzo, please!”
Her housekeeper, Jeanette, gasps when she spots us at the top of the stairs. She moves toward us like she’s going to rush up and save her. She stops though, knowing it won’t do any good.
She spoke with Matteo, and he told her what was going on. The coward chose not to be here when I came to fetch his daughter. Anyone who has an issue with it can take it up with him.
“Oh my god, please!” Jordan whines as I start down the stairs. She grips my shirt, tugging it out of my pants. As if that’s going to stop me.
“If you want me naked, you only have to ask,” I tell her, grasping her thighs tighter.
She growls, digging her nails into the flesh of my back. My cock stirs at the sensation.
“Keep it up, Jordan. You’ll have me coming in my pants.”
She squeals, another sound of frustration leaving her, and I smile to myself. She’s so easy to rile. Gives up way too quickly too. She’s a fighter, but she’s not confident enough. I make it to the bottom of the stairs and turn to Jeanette, who is wringing her hands together.
“Someone will be by tomorrow morning to gather her things.” I continue toward the front door.
“No! Please, not outside. Not outside!”
I push through the door, the sun bright, the air warm.
“Be grateful it’s warm, Jordan.”
I move down the steps as her sobs start, her body slumping against me.
“I’m sorry, please let me get clothes,” she begs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! I won’t do it again!”
