Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I blink at his words. And when I understand his meaning, I have to laugh. It’s a strange, unhinged sort of sound, and it clearly throws him off.
He is expecting me to be a virgin. Should I tell him? Prepare him for disappointment?
Amadeo eyes me, but I keep my face expressionless. I will give him nothing. The woman he glimpsed in my eyes when he kissed me, I won’t give him that. Not when he will take what he plans to take from me.
He shifts his gaze to my top and begins to unbutton it. I watch his fingers work. They sear my skin at every touch, and I remain perfectly still when he pulls the shirt open and displays my bra.
I drag my gaze up to his.
“Very beautiful.” He leans toward me, kisses me. It’s a stolen kiss that doesn’t last long enough for me to have to respond. To decide if I’m fighting him or kissing him back. I’m grateful for that.
His focus moves back to my body, my bra. I watch his big, calloused hands as he tucks the lace cup of each beneath my breasts, exposing them. The small, round mounds stand high, the nipples turned upward and taut as if already submitting to him. He dips his head, making me gasp when he licks one, then takes it into his mouth and sucks.
My hands come to his shoulders, fingers weaving into his hair, and when he sucks on that nipple, I feel sensation move straight through the center of my body and explode at my core. I can’t help the low, deep moan that comes from inside my chest.
He straightens with a grin. He is victorious. “No nausea then?”
I swallow hard, trying to remind my body how it should feel at his touch. But when he draws his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the bed, I can’t help how my eyes move over his shoulders, his arms, that dandelion tattoo, his muscular, scarred chest. It takes all I have to drag my gaze back up to his.
“Will you make me?” I ask.
“It has to happen.”
“I’m asking if you will make me.”
He holds my gaze as he slips my shirt off my shoulders and lets it slide to the floor. The bra is next. Unhooked and discarded. And all the while, I stand still as if trapped, locked in place.
“Dandelion,” he says, sliding his hand into my leggings, my panties, making my breath catch when his fingers find their target. “I won’t have to make you.” My legs tremble as his fingers do their work. I wrap my hands around his shoulders to stay upright as a whimper escapes my throat. With a grin, he pinches my clit and forces a cry. I’m not sure if it’s of pain or pleasure. He draws his hand from my leggings and brings his mouth to my ear. “You’ll beg me for it.”
I swallow hard, hearing the clear mockery in his voice and shake my head to dissipate this fog. My hands turn into claws in his hair. I hold him tight to me and bite down hard on his earlobe.
He mutters a curse, drawing back, one hand circling my throat in a very different grip than a moment ago. He presses me to the door as the other hand moves to his ear to gauge the damage. His fingers come away bloody.
“I will never beg you for anything, Amadeo. Never.”
“That was a mistake.” He shifts his grip to my wrists, twisting my arms behind my back as he marches me toward the bed.
“You play with me. You fucking mock me. What do you expect me to do? Not fight? What sick pleasure does it give you?” I ask. He deposits me onto the bed facedown and rips my leggings and panties from me. Then he flips me onto my back and straddles me, capturing my wrists again as I struggle against him, needing to fight him.
I glance at his ear. It’s bleeding but not bad enough. I should have torn it off.
“Do you need me to make you? Is that what this is?” he asks, tone low but angry, any playfulness gone.
“You would, wouldn’t you? To get what you want.”
“Will it make you hate yourself a little less if I did that, Dandelion?”
“Stop fucking calling me that! My name is Vittoria.”
“Answer my question, Vittoria.” He leans in close, his voice a warning. “Will it make you hate yourself a little less for wanting me if I make you?”
I renew my battle against him because he’s got it exactly right. He has read me like a book. If I surrender, I will hate myself. If I fight, if he makes me, I can hate him. I just need to push him a little farther even though I know I’m treading on thin ice. I’m powerless against him physically. He will always win when the fight is physical. But I have one weapon that can wound him deeply.