Page 48 of The Broker

He returns in record time with a glass of whiskey. “None for me?” I quip.

He shakes his head. “You haven’t earned it, sparrow.”

Fuck, yes.It’s like he looked inside my mind and dragged my naughtiest fantasy out of there. “How can I earn it?” I ask, looking up at him through my eyelashes. “Can I earn it on my knees?”

I only caught a glimpse of Dante’s cock on Saturday before the tattoo freaked me out, and I ran away. Have I been thinking of it ever since?Of course, I have.Eight inches of thick, rock-hard male flesh, and all of it for me. I can’t wait. The most frustrating part about the last ten years is that I loved sex. To take the thing I love and make it the subject of fear. . . But I’m here now, and I’m not afraid. I’m very,veryturned on.

“Not yet,” he denies me calmly. He stands at the foot of the bed and examines me. “Get on your feet.”

His voice is sterner now, and the sternness sends a wave of arousal shooting through me, like an arrow to my pussy. I fight the urge to squirm. “Do you like me with my glasses or without?”

I’m talking about how he wants me in this fantasy of ours. But Dante misunderstands, either deliberately or by accident. He laughs softly. “With or without, sparrow, it doesn’t matter. I like you.” Before I can react, he gives me his next order. “Stand by the window, facing out.”

I’mstarvedfor him. Saturday did nothing to take the edge off my appetite.

I take my glasses off and stand where he wants me to. The outside world softens to a blur, the lights across the lagoon shimmering into a kaleidoscope. The only thing that remains in focus isDante.

He moves behind me. I can see his reflection in the mirror, looming over me like a dark shadow. He kisses the curve of my neck. “I’m going to unwrap my gift now.”

I hesitate. There’s not much risk of being seen. We’re looking out over the water, and Dante’s bedroom is dimly lit. Someone has to be right outside the window to see me. But paranoia is part of my job description.

His hand is on my lingerie strap. “Valentina,” he says. His voice jerks me from my indecision. Dante wouldn’t do anything to put me in danger, quite to the contrary. He’s infuriatingly overprotective. I have nothing to be concerned about.

I take a deep breath and let reality bleed away again. I’m Dante’s gift, here to do whatever he wants me to. And if he wants me to get naked, then that’s what I’m going to do.

“Yes.” I slip the straps down my shoulders, and the chemise falls to my waist. Dante slides it down past my hips, and it falls to the floor, pooling in a fluid puddle. “Step out of it.”

I move free, and Dante picks my lingerie up. “Like liquid silk,” he says. He drinks me in, his gaze openly possessive. “Keep your hands on the window. Spread your legs wide.”

The Broker is good at giving orders.

I comply. Dante puts a hand around my waist and tugs me back until my ass is pressed against his cock. “Wider,” he demands. I obey, and he nods in approval. “Good girl. Hold that position for me.”

He moves away. A flush creeps up my cheeks as I look at my reflection. Naked except for the tiniest scrap of lace covering my pussy, my breasts are in full view of the window, my ass is lewdly thrust toward him, and my legs are spread wide. I look ready to be mounted from behind.

Dante returns. “You’ve been a good girl,” he says. His glass is at my lips. “One sip.”

I drink, and the heat of the whiskey slides all the way down my throat. Perversely, it makes me shiver. “Cold?” Dante asks. “You’re about to get colder, sparrow.”

I expect the ice. I brace for it. But Dante doesn’t slide it over me, not right away. First, he runs his hands all over my body. He pushes his finger into my mouth like the man did in the clip we watched. He cups my breasts and plucks my nipples, grips my hips and squeezes my ass. Every inch of me is carefully assessed. Inspected as if I were on sale, and Dante wants to make sure he gets his money’s worth.

It sets me on fire.

“Beautiful,” he says, stroking the insides of my thighs. “Do you know how hard it was to be tied up when my fingers itched to glide all over you? To touch you, to feel the pulse beat beneath your skin?” He licks that throbbing spot in my neck. “And then you ran away.” Imitating what we watched, he fishes the ice cube out of his glass and glides it in a circle over my nipple.

I gasp. I can’t help it. The ice is so cold it hurts, but the sharp pain immediately dissolves into pleasure. “One taste of that sweet, sweet pussy, and I’m an addict.” He wraps his arm around my chest to hold me in place and trails the ice cube over my nipples. When the cold becomes almost too much to bear, he replaces the ice with his fingers, pinching my nipples to warm them up.

Then, he repeats the cycle all over again.

Ice and fire until the two sensations merge into one.

I throw my head back against him and moan, the twin stimuli overpowering. I start to move my hands from the window—I need to touch him—but he shakes his head in disapproval. “Did I give you permission to move?”

Why is this so hot? Why am I so turned on when he snaps orders at me? I don’t know, and I don’t care. Not when my need is molten hot lava threatening to burn me alive.

Dante kisses my shoulder even as he trails the ice down my spine. I know where it’s going, and a shiver of arousal runs through me. I want to tell him to stop, and I want him to keep going. A tsunami of sensation swirls through my body. It’s all too much, but I never want it to end.

“Did he touch her clit with the ice?” Dante asks. “In the video you like so much?”