Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
“Where are you taking me?” she asks.
“The bridge,” I tell her. “You wanted to put on a show for the crew. I’ll give them one they’ll never forget.”
“Angelo, no.” She acts horrified, but beneath that, her voice betrays her.
She might be too embarrassed to admit she likes the idea, but I’ve seen the books the little pervert reads. I know exactly what she likes. And if these weren’t men who got to see her every day, I might actually consider it. But anonymity will be a nonnegotiable when I fuck her in front of someone else.
The last thing I need is another asshole sniffing around her. She’s already proven she can’t be trusted, and slaughtering every man who looks her way is a full-time job. I should know, I’ve made a pretty good dent already.
“What’s the problem, cara?” I taunt her as I carry her up the stairs. “You already showed them your tits. Don’t you want them to see your pussy too?”
She starts to wriggle as I clear the landing and make my way to the bridge door.
“I’m sorry!” she blurts. “It won’t happen again, okay? I swear it.”
I pause outside the door, itching with the need to punish her. I’ve already made up my mind, but it’s still tempting to fuck her here to prove a point.
“Tell me why you did it,” I growl.
The tension in her body dissolves as she heaves out a sigh. “You know why.”
“I’ll need you to spell it out for me.”
This is undoubtedly a tantrum about Genevieve, but I need to hear her say it because I’m a sick fuck. There’s a twisted kind of pleasure in the idea of provoking this hot little green monster in her.
“Of all the people in the world you could have hired, did it have to be her?” she bites out.
“Why does it matter to you?” I throw the words back flippantly. “Last I checked, you didn’t care who I fucked.”
Her body goes rigid. “Are you?”
“Am I fucking her?” I parrot the question without answering.
I hope she’s imagining it right now—the same way I imagined her and Matteo together for six fucking years.
The door to the bridge opens, and the first mate pops his head out, his eyes widening when he sees us there.
“Pardon my interruption, Mr. Vitale.” He averts his gaze. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
“No need,” I tell him. “My wife—”
“Angelo…” Abella begs, the vulnerability in her voice tugging at something I thought I’d already killed.
This fucking woman.
Turning around, I head for the stairs, dismissing the first mate. “As you were.”
I carry Abella back to the owner’s deck and into our suite, releasing my grip on her slowly. She slides down my body, her bare breasts skimming over my linen shirt. Even through that barrier, I can feel her nipples dragging along my chest, and it distracts me far more than it should.
I turn her in my arms, pressing her back against me as I tug her scrap of a thong over her hips, letting it fall to the floor. When I slip my fingers between her thighs and find her wet, it irritates the fuck out of me.
“Does their attention get you off?” I growl. “Are you so desperate for cock you think you’ll take any you can get?”
“No,” she breathes. “Nobody else has touched me. You saw the evidence of that.”
My dick swells another inch just thinking about her virgin blood on me. The relief I felt when I saw that was immeasurable. But now I have a point to make, and I intend it to be a permanent one.
“Nobody else will ever touch you again.” I haul her to the bed and shove her facedown across the mattress.
She doesn’t move as I rummage through the nightstand drawers, collecting the items I ordered for her. I toss them onto the bed, and she tries to glance over her shoulder, at which point I shove a pillow over her face.
“Angelo?” Uncertainty hitches her voice, and I let her linger in that moment. She can twist herself into knots and wallow in the fear she craves.
I grab the tattoo kit and the battery pack and toss them beside the other items. Then I mount her, caging her legs between mine as I lean back on my haunches. Compared to me, she’s pint-sized—compact and easily portable. She can’t bear much of my weight, but the little diavoletta isn’t going anywhere in this position.
When I open the kit, the snap fills the silence, and a tremor runs along her spine. That soft expanse of golden skin laid out beneath me makes me want to sink my teeth into it. It doesn’t help that she smells like coconut and vanilla from whatever she smeared all over herself.
She seems to be handling Matteo’s death suspiciously well, but I’m not going to question it. I’ve spent the entirety of her mourning period sorting and categorizing all the ways I want to defile her. Today, she’s given me good reason to fuck her senseless.