4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Daniella

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him. He is tall, impossibly tall.

From my vantage point in my seat, his eyes look piercing. It might be my tipsiness, but I swear the crowd parts for him as he walks. He moves with quiet confidence, his commanding presence drawing attention without trying.

My heart skips a beat as he approaches the bar, his gaze locking onto mine.

“Here alone?” His voice has a rich, velvety timbre that flows and coats my skin like honey. It does things to my belly, things it has no business doing.

“What?” I don’t recognize the soft raspy tone of my voice, I don’t recognize this feeling in my chest. He nods at the drink in my hand.

“It seems like you’re alone. Are you meeting someone here tonight?”

What on earth is that accent? And can I bottle it up and take it home with me?

“I was told to sip my drink and mind my own business,” I say to him instead of replying to his question. I glance over at the bartender, who is eyeing us sidelong.

“I hear it’s very peaceful, minding one’s business. More people should try it.”

He looks at me with something that is not quite a smile but feels very close to it. And maybe it’s the fact that it feels like we’re actually talking about something other than liquor or the way he is standing so close to me.

“May I join you?” he asks, already sliding onto the barstool next to me. I raise my brows at him and press the glass to my flushed cheek.

“Seems you already did.” I smile a little and bring the glass to my lips. His eyes stay on mine as I take another slow sip and swallow.

A drip lands on my lip and I stick my tongue out to lick it off. His eyes follow that movement, and if I thought before that the heat of his gaze locked on mine was intense, the heat of his gaze on my mouth right now is at least ten degrees hotter.

He sits there next to me, his eyes studying me with an intensity that makes me shiver. “I would have remembered if you’d come here before.”

I laugh softly, the sound bitter even to my own ears. “Would you? How’s that?”

He signals to the bartender and she comes over so quickly I'm sure she just got whiplash. She gives me an uneasy look that I'm too drunk to even try to decipher.

He orders another drink for me and slides it to me when she brings it. “Drink this.” It’s not a request but also not a command. I wrap my hand around the glass and stare at the transparent liquid.

“What's this?”

“Something you will enjoy more.”

I hesitate, for a second, and then I take a sip. Pleasure explodes in my mouth so quickly that I can't stop the groan that slips out.

“What the hell is this?” I ask before taking another sip, and he smiles.

“A club special. I'm hoping it'll be enough to lure you into coming back.”

“I’ll be coming back. I have to.” He tilts his head to look at me.

“And why is that?”

“Because I need answers.” The alcohol has loosened my tongue and I lean on my elbow, bringing my face and entire body closer to him.

His eyebrow arches, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Answers to what?”

“Someone I cared about died a few weeks ago. I think it has something to do with this place.”

He takes a sip of his own drink, his gaze never leaving mine. “You’ve chosen a dangerous path.”

“Probably, but I don’t really care,” I say, my voice trembling. “I need to know what happened.”

He leans back, studying me with a mix of curiosity and something else I can’t quite place. “You’re brave. Or maybe just reckless.”

“Maybe a bit of both,” I admit, taking another sip of my drink. The alcohol is starting to dull the edges of my fear, making me feel bolder. “But I have to do this.”

He nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Sometimes, the truth is more dangerous than the lies.”

“Maybe,” I say, meeting his gaze. “But I need to know.”

He smiles, a slow, enigmatic smile that sends a shiver down my spine. “I admire your determination.”

We fall into a companionable silence, the music and noise of the club fading into the background. There’s something magnetic about him, something that draws me in despite the danger. Maybe it’s the way he looks at me, like he’s trying to see into my soul. Or maybe it’s just the alcohol lowering my inhibitions.

“Tell me what answers you’re looking for.” His voice sounds so persuasive. I get the feeling that he is very good at getting people to tell him things.

“I would. But I’ve been told to keep my questions to myself if I want to keep my life.”

He doesn’t look shocked.

“And who would have told you that?”

Something has crept into his voice, something that sounds like humor wrapped in danger.

“The bartender.” I jerk my head her way. “She seems nice though, caring about my life and all. Plus, she makes really good…what did you say this drink is called?”

“I didn’t.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t tell you what it’s called.”

“Oh, right. Well, either way, she makes it really well. And you’re nice. You seem very nice.”

He chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that makes my stomach flutter. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

Our eyes lock and in that moment, something shifts between us. The air is charged with a tension that’s both thrilling and terrifying. I can’t explain it, but I feel drawn to him in a way I’ve never felt for any man before.

Those sensuous lips are inches from mine. All I would have to do is lean forward just a little to kiss him. And I realize that that is all I really want to do in this moment.

As if he has heard my innermost desires, he reaches out to trail the pads of his long fingers down my cheek. His dark eyes travel along the path that his fingers are taking. I tremble beneath his touch, feeling alight with awareness and desire in spite of myself.

He traces along my jaw, and then his thumb comes up to rub my lower lip softly. I part my lips instinctively, and he smiles again. “So pretty,” he says softly, as if to himself. “Too good for this place.”

I want to ask him what he means. I want to demand that he explain himself, but I barely have time to formulate that thought before his lips touch mine. I moan. I can’t help it. My entire body feels like it has gone up in flames.

He kisses me slowly at first, his lips just barely pressing against mine, but when I moan, something changes in him. He grabs my waist and yanks me against him.

I can feel his hardness against my hip bone, and I moan again, desperate for his touch in spite of the logical part of my brain screaming at me to run away.

As his tongue invades my mouth, I allow myself to be swept up in the passion that has ignited between us. I loved Jeremy, and making love to him was sweet and fun, but this…this is something else entirely. I feel like I’m dying and like I’m flying, all in the same breath.

“Let me take you home,” he murmurs against my lips.

I move back, shifting into my seat and fighting the embarrassment. I've just kissed him, a total stranger. His eyes are trained on me, his lips stained with my red lipstick. Somehow this makes him even more desirable to me.

Gray. His eyes are the most intense shade of gray I’ve ever seen. And his smell, he smells so good. I just want to burrow into it and never come out.

“Okay.” The word pops out of my mouth so naturally.

He pulls out cash and drops it on the bar, then he leads me toward the exit of the club with his hand on the small of my back.

Just like when he was coming in, people move away as we walk through the crowd, and I can feel them staring at me. Or maybe they’re looking at him?

We leave the club together, the cool night air is a stark contrast to the heat of the club. He leads me to a sleek, black car parked nearby, opening the door for me with a gallant gesture. I slide into the passenger seat and he shuts the door.

He gets into the driver's seat and immediately places his hand on the exposed skin on my thigh. The gesture is hot, so hot. For a while I think he’s going to move it higher and higher, but he doesn’t. He just leaves it there, a pulsing brand on my skin.

I look at his hand, resting on my thigh. His fingers are long and elegant. They look like the hands of a pianist or an artist, but I can feel the strength of them hiding behind the lie of gentility. The thought is thrilling to me. Everything about him is like a blunt weapon wrapped in silk. He’s both beautiful and deadly in equal parts.

The drive is short, the city lights blurring past in a kaleidoscope of color. We arrive at a luxurious apartment building, its facade imposing and elegant. He leads me inside, the quiet hum of the elevator highlighting the silent tension between us.

His apartment is spacious and impeccably furnished. It’s the kind of place that speaks of wealth and taste. But I barely notice the surroundings as he pulls me into his arms, our lips meeting in a fierce, hungry kiss.

He pushes me against the wall, thrusting his fingers into my hair and pulling one side of it too much, but it feels good. My hands aren’t shy either, as they roam the expanse of his wide chest, undoing buttons and then dipping lower to unhook his belt.

“So fucking beautiful,” he mutters into my ear just before biting my earlobe.

“You’re not bad to look at either,” I rasp, and he stops and stares at me for a beat.

I have made a lot of mistakes in the past, but never have I followed a stranger back home, especially one I met in the club just a couple of hours ago. I think of Jeremy for a split second and my heart pinches in my chest. I shove the thought away. I want to be drunk and horny for now. I’m so tired of being sad.

He yanks my dress off my shoulders, and it puddles at my feet. I’m not wearing a bra, and I can see the flash of appreciation in his light eyes as he takes in my pert breasts with their full, tempting nipples.

I blush, tucking my hair behind my ear. I’m suddenly shy, not sure what to do.

I can feel his eyes piercing through me. I don’t need to look up to know that his gaze is fixed on me.

“They’re even better than I expected,” he murmurs, his voice filled with lust. I feel the sound all the way to my core and my pussy clenches in reply. He reaches out with those beautiful, dangerous hands and cups my breasts and I gasp, arching into his touch.

“Thank you for sharing them with me,” he says to me, his tone worshipful, just before he bends his head down to pull one of my nipples into his mouth.

“Oh!” I gasp, arching forward and pressing my hands flat to the wall behind me.

He transfers his attention to the other breast and I cry out as he nips at it.

“Too much?” he inquires, straightening up to look at me.

I shake my head, following my instincts and reach out to skim my fingers over his full lips.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to sit down?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I squirm my thighs together in a vain attempt to ease the ache between my legs.

“Not unless you agree to sit on my face,” he says to me, those strange, and yet beautiful eyes still boring into mine.

“I think you could ask me anything,” I say to him, “And I would say yes.”

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asks, his tone proud and commanding.

Without saying a word, I nod in agreement.

“No. I want to hear you say it,” he insists. He reaches out and pinches one of my nipples, pulling on it.

I gasp. “Yes, I want you to fuck me,” I say. My voice sounds loud in the silence between us.

He grabs my thighs with both his hands and lifts me off the ground. Carrying me is ridiculously easy for him. I feel light and small in his arms.

He strides into what must be the living room. I catch a glimpse of huge windows that reveal the city skyline before he sets me down next to a leather couch. He makes short work of removing his slacks and shirt, then he lays down on the couch.

I stare down at him, not sure what to do. He reaches out and links his fingers with mine, the gesture strangely sweet. It’s like something a middle school boyfriend would do.

“Come here,” he commands, his words sharp, allowing for no argument.

I glance down at him and see the evidence of his desire. I feel a ridiculous amount of pride when I see the straining bulge of his erection barely contained by his boxer briefs.

I allow him to tug me forward until my legs bump into the sofa. I hesitate for a moment, then I remember that he said he wanted me to sit on his face. I slip off my thong and toss it away from me. Grinning, I straddle him, looking down at his face before he reaches out his tongue and flicks it against the slickness of me.

I gasp loudly as pleasure sails along my nerve endings. His tongue presses inside of me, filling me far more than I expected and my hips tilt forward of their own accord, allowing him further access.

“Yes! Oh God, please don’t stop doing that,” I moan.

“You taste so sweet, Tesoro ,” he praises me in between clever strokes of his tongue.

“What does that mean?” I ask, my voice languid, my head lolling back as pleasure coils within me more and more tightly.

“It means treasure,” he rasps before going back to work driving me crazy.

Treasure . I love the sound of that. Something about the way it sounds, the romance and music of the Italian, causes its own kind of pleasure.

“I’m going to come!” I suddenly gasp out. He grabs my hips and lifts me off his face immediately. I whimper in protest.

“Not yet, Tesoro ,” he tells me, shaking his head. “I will tell you when you can come.”

I start to protest, but the thought runs away as I watch him slip off his boxer briefs, freeing his cock. It’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen and I swallow loudly. I’m both desperate to be filled by it and scared that he could hurt me with it.

“Do you want me to fuck you with this?” he asks me, sliding a hand along his length. I watch his cock leap in his hands, and my mouth feels dry. I rub my legs together, desperate for release.

“If you do,” he goes on, stepping closer to me and reaching out to curl his fingers into the swell of my hip. “All you have to do is ask nicely. I always appreciate good manners.”

I want to be annoyed at this. I want to be righteously angry that he is demanding this of me, but instead, I melt inside.

“Please,” I hear myself say.

“Please, what?” he demands, squeezing my hip hard enough that I suck in a breath.

“Please fuck me with your huge cock,” I say, my voice dripping with lust. A small, distracted corner of my mind wonders where such a filthy sentence came from. I have never been this kind of girl.

“Of course, I will, beauty,” he says to me, his deep voice full of promise.

He presses me back onto the sofa and kneels between my legs. He leans forward and presses a harsh kiss to my lips, and I can feel the velvety head of his dick slipping along my wetness, tantalizing me.

I moan and lift my hips, wanting more, but he only continues to kiss me, his lips hard on mine.

When he finally slips the head of his huge cock just barely inside of me, I cry out at the shock of pleasure. I feel desperate, hungry and aflame.

I’m wild for him to sink himself inside of me. I squirm and writhe, but he continues to just dip the very tip of himself inside of me.

“Fuck me,” I hear myself pleading aloud. “Please, fill me. I can’t stand it anymore. Please.”

He chuckles at this and presses a kiss to the side of my neck, just under my ear.

“Of course, beautiful girl,” he whispers, and he presses deeper into me, but slowly, so slowly.

He’s positively huge and I can feel myself stretching. I feel the wave of pleasure balanced against pain. He finally slides all the way home and I lift my legs, wrapping them around his narrow hips. I wriggle, still needing more, but again, he waits, just allowing me to feel the fullness within me.

I’m panting. The sound is very loud in the quiet of the apartment. I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. All I can feel is the pleasure and stretching of my pussy as he fills me. All I can attend to is my mindless need for him.

Then he starts to move, so slowly, all the way back out of me, and then slowly, all the way back in. I’m keening by now, writhing and twisting, wanting more and yet not knowing if my body can handle it.

“Oh my God,” I start saying over and over again, the tingling of pleasure starting to build despite the way he’s moving so slowly, so carefully within me.

“God, you’re tight,” he grunts as he starts to move faster.

“Yes! Fuck me! Don’t stop, please!” I cry as he thrusts into me harder and harder.

I bury my fingers into his back and hold on to him tightly and in no time, I reach climax. I feel a gush of liquid pouring out of me, spilling across both of us. I cry out over and over again as the pleasure rips me apart and reassembles me over and over again.

He is silent as he thrusts into me, chasing his own release, but I can feel his body trembling and I moan at the feeling of him spilling himself inside of me. I feel marked, claimed and changed as I stroke my fingers through the thick hair on the nape of his neck.

We rest like that for a while, breathing hard, sticky, and warm, but not eager to break apart.

“I think I ruined your couch,” I murmur.

He chuckles. “I’ll buy another one,” he tells me.

Finally, he pulls his hardness out of me and carries me in his arms like a child to his bedroom. Carefully, he places me on the bed just before my eyes close.

The first thing I register when I wake up the next morning, is that I’m not in my own bed. There’s a man’s hand draped over my naked torso. The only man who would be like this with me in my bed is Jeremy, but Jeremy is gone.

Guilt.

The reality of what I’ve done crashes down on me. I lie there, motionless for a little while, my heart racing, my mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion. What have I done? What have I gotten myself into?

Carefully, I slip out of bed, gathering my clothes. As I dress, my eyes fall on a wallet lying on the nightstand. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, my breath catching in my throat as I see the name on the ID.

Lorenzo Alessandro Duretti.

Shock glues me to the spot as I look at it and then the shock is replaced by fear. The man I spent the night with, the man I felt drawn to, the man I just fucked, is the head of the Duretti family.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. I need to get out of here. Now.

But as I turn to leave, Lorenzo stirs, his eyes fluttering open. He looks at me, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “Leaving so soon, Tesoro ?”

I swallow hard, forcing a smile. “I...I need to go. But thank you for...everything.”

“I want to see you again.”

There it is again. Now I’m wondering how I didn’t notice it last night. The command in every word he says, the ferocity in his eyes. Of course, he’s Lorenzo of the Duretti family.

“Okay,” I make myself say. I smile, and he smiles too.

If this man had something to do with Jeremy’s death, I will find out. It doesn’t matter if I have to change myself into someone that I am not. It doesn’t matter if I have to pretend, use my body, or lie. I will use any means necessary. I will find out the truth.

And I will have my revenge.