Page 42 of The Consigliere
The storm in his eyes turns me on and I surprise myself when I fix him with a mischievous smile and reach for his belt.
He is shocked when I unbuckle it and unzip his pants, dropping my head to his lap as I slide him into my mouth.
His tortured groan makes me smile as I take him in, loving how he thrusts in deep. Then I bite down gently, causing him to growl, “Fuck me!”
I suck him hard and fast, causing him to shoot deep down my throat. His heavy breathing telling me he is so turned on and as I swallow his salty cum, I love knowing it’s marking me inside. Then, with a wicked grin, I zip up his pants and fasten his belt, saying softly, “Remember who owns this, too. When those women fling their inviting eyes in your direction, know you belong to me. It’s my body responsible for giving you pleasure and mine alone.”
My eyes flash as I stare at him with a new power inside me and I love how his smile lights his handsome face.
Then he pulls me close and whispers darkly, “So you believe you are strong enough to take the whole of me?”
He licks the side of my face and bites down hard on my lower lip. The flash of pain it creates turns me on and as I hitch my breath, his fingers slide around my neck, restricting my breathing, causing me to struggle for air and he growls, “One thing you should learn, princess, nobody dominates me, so if you think I’m happy about your little stunt back there, think again. You’ve just earned yourself a punishment for taking without permission.”
He releases me, and I slump back in my seat with a small smile on my face. How does he know me so well already? That turned me on to the point of explosion and now I’m going to have to deal with the anticipation for the rest of the evening.
He shifts away and leaves me shivering with desire for the rest of the journey, completely ignoring me as he taps on his phone. Far from annoying me, though, it’s making me want him even more and this gala can’t end soon enough for me.
CHAPTER19
MATTEO
Fuck me, that was the best blow job I ever had. When Abigail took control of the situation, it made me mad. Nobody takes control of me and yet it was so hot, I loved every second of it. My cruel treatment of her afterward merely stoked the flames even higher and I am impatient to bring this evening to a close because she has earned a visit to my dungeon for her sins.
The fact she is craving that more than anything makes me smile because my little rich girl has some incredibly carnal urges, and I can’t wait to plunge her over the edge of the darkest cliff and dive after her.
We reach Madison Square Garden and I see the line of limos waiting to deposit their owners onto the red carpet and have a sense of pride knowing I will be stepping out with Abigail. Not my usual date, usually a whore or the daughter of a man who owes me a favor. This time I will walk beside my wife and once again I congratulate myself on a plan well executed.
Abigail is excited, I can tell as she fidgets on the seat beside me, a mess of lust, excitement, and fear. I know she is dreading seeing Jefferson and fears seeing Mario and Diana. She has no reason to fear it though because of who holds her hand.
We reach the red carpet and one of my soldiers opens the door, Cesare standing to his left, watching us exit with amusement in his eyes. I know he’s loving every second of this. Seeing me with a respectable woman is unusual and seeing me with a wife is astonishing.
Flashbulbs light our way and as I reach for Abigail’s hand, it curls into mine, causing a surge of protective desire to race through my body.
I am conscious of how she works the red carpet like a pro. Standing confident and proud, her dazzling smile lighting up the lens of many hardened paparazzi.
They call her name, and she turns and flashes them a rewarding smile and I set my own expression to bastard as I glare at anyone who even looks in her direction. Beauty and the Beast is a description that could have been written with us in mind because I am standing by her side baring my teeth and sharpening my claws, prepared to go for the jugular if anyone steps out of line.
Somehow, we make it inside and as we join the throng of guests, Abi grips my hand tightly.
We make our way into the great hall and the music that greets us is at odds with the danger lurking in every shadow.
As we help ourselves to two glasses of champagne, a seductive voice brushes against my left ear.
“You naughty boy.”
It’s as if she holds a serrated knife sliding down my skin and I turn and stare fiercely at Demelza Gregory, looking like Morticia Addams in a floor length, figure hugging black gown, her long dark hair like a sheet of ebony flowing down her back.
Her red painted lips are pursed seductively in my direction and her dismissive gaze falls on my hand, clasping Abigail’s.
“Is there something you want to tell me, darling?” She purrs, her voice with an edge of steel that promises to cut me deep.
“Demelza, meet my wife, Abigail.” I waste no words on pleasantries and love how the storm in her eyes reveals her inner thoughts in a flash.
“Your wife.” She spits the last word and stares at Abigail as if she’s a bad smell.
I feel my temper rising, but then Abigail says lightly, “Yes, Mrs. Ortega, and you are…?”
Demelza’s eyes narrow. “His girlfriend.”