10. Evelyn

There"s a silent rhythm to baking. It"s repetitive enough to lose myself in the process. Italian cookies, stuffed shells, and eggplant Parmesan keep me in Alessandro"s kitchen for hours, waiting to see what he has in mind for me for breaking the rules.

Angst melts away the longer he"s out of the house. Every once in a while, Lorenzo pops in to see what I"m making, casually checking on me. More like checking to see what he can swipe to snack on. Once everything finishes, I put a plate in the oven for Alessandro like a dutiful wife and put the rest of my creations away to eat another day.

After cleaning the kitchen, the sounds of grunts and someone being hit greet me at the top of the stairs. Intrigue and my imagination pull me closer to Alessandro"s room where the noises grow louder. My heart races, pounding against my chest, even harder than the pounding coming from behind the closed door.

I put my ear up to the door, desperate to hear what he"s doing with so much vigor. My nerves are tingling. The hairs on the back of my neck are on edge with anticipation.

"Is everything alright, Evelyn?"

"Shit! Jesus Christ, Lorenzo. You scared the hell out of me," I chastise him with a hand clutching my chest. I truly have to get better at observing my surroundings.

He runs his hand down his mouth to mask his laughter before turning back to head into his room. Sounds passing through the closed door tell me to go to my room, where a soothing hot bath waits for me.

Music streams through my phone to my earbuds, letting me drown out Alessandro"s grunts of exertion. The tub doesn"t take long to fill, and when I slide into it, the water wraps around me like a dream. Ripples from the slight sway of my knees under the surface disappear against the walls of the porcelain tub. The heat lulls my eyes closed, and when I open them, I desperately want Alessandro to be there.

When the minute turns into a half hour, I"ve had enough time to stew in the tub, opting to get out before I turn into a prune. As I"m drying off, the door to Alessandro"s room opens. I steal a glance at myself in the mirror before turning around to face him.

Two wavy tendrils of blonde hair frame my face while the rest of my hair sits high in a ponytail. Alessandro walks into the bathroom, soaked in sweat, with shades of pink and red blooming across his chest. His legs are thick, muscular, and strong in a pair of black training shorts.

Steady thuds of my heart beating against my chest anxiously wait for him to take them off. Blood pumps through my body, and my pussy twitches with delight hoping for a replay of last night"s multiple orgasms.

Our eyes lock, a standoff waiting for either of us to say something about the broken rules. His mouth opens, but just before he says anything, both of our phones ring.

"Fuck." The word comes from both of us as we step out of the bathroom.

I"m wondering if it"s something regarding our family business. Once the email from Dr. Bireli confirms that it"s not, calmness wraps around me as softly as the towel I"m wearing. Two matching reports for Mr. and Mrs. De Luca with a clean bill of health. The sound of the shower running gives me enough time to read through them both before stepping into the bathroom with my thoughts on it all.

The hot water fogs the glass just in time to mask the tip of the jagged scars stretching across his back. Suddenly, I feel like I"m invading his privacy, seeing too much of a secret that he"s not ready to tell me. I"m just about to step out of the bathroom when I hear his voice.

"Mio dolce."

"Yes, Alessandro."

"Nothing is between us."

"Your friend confirmed as much." Poking the bear can be fun, and I"m anxious for us to circle back to this punishment I"m receiving.

"I"ve warned you about that mouth. Do you want to finish this up here or downstairs?" The way his voice echoes around the room makes it feel like he"s everywhere.

"Wherever you like is fine with me."

"Very well. I want you in one of my shirts again, button up, green, silver, or grey. You can choose. Keep your hair pinned up. Nothing underneath. Meet me downstairs. Stand in front of the cross. When I get down there, don"t speak until you"re spoken to. Don"t touch me until I tell you. Is that understood, mio dolce?"

"Yes, my husband." There"s something in me that won"t stop provoking him.

"If we"re going to play this game, say it in Italian."

"Si, mio marito." It"s clear he has the same urges I do. The only difference is when he provokes me, we both know it"s going to be him who ends up on top.

"Bene. You can begin, mio dolce."

The steam from the shower"s hot, but the raging lust tearing through me is hotter. There"s a sense of secret urgency ramming through me as I walk through a door to find myself in Alessandro"s closet. Time is of the essence, forcing me to grab the first silver shirt among the dozens hanging inside a longer hallway of a closet. Notes of cinnamon and leather waft from his room and stoke my curiosity, but exploring will have to wait.

The noise of the shower covers my footsteps as I move back into the bedroom, where I"m happy to have stopped at my folks" place to grab some of my favorite products. The hundreds of thoughts and ideas circling my mind threaten to keep me indecisive, but I don"t want to disappoint Alessandro.

The elevator ride into the basement keeps my heart racing. The door opens into the low-lit playroom. The deep bass accompanying an electric guitar riff playing from speakers I can"t see sets a somber and dangerous mood. The music playing is just loud enough to let me hear the rapid beating of my pulse.

The giant X-shaped cross mounted to the wall, clad in crimson leather and adorned with black straps for the wrists and ankles, is intimidating but enthralling. It"s smooth to the touch and smells like a new designer handbag.

There"s a mirror behind the large mahogany leather armchairs across from me, allowing anyone strapped to the cross to watch, unless, of course, they"re blindfolded. My nipples harden at the idea of Alessandro watching me in the restraints.

The mechanics of the elevator motor are like a jolt through my system. He"s coming.

My reflection stares back at me, giving a glimpse of what Alessandro will see. The length of my neck leading down to the gap between my breasts, mapping a trail down to the triangle of pleasure between my thighs. Silver threads from a shirt he wears for work draw attention to my olive green eyes.

I have to press my fingertips against my cheeks to stop myself from overthinking, blushing red to ruin the aesthetic. The elevator arrives, and like a model off a runway, Alessandro emerges from behind the door. His hair is dry, out of his face without any product. He"s not wearing a shirt, just a pair of black linen pants hanging perfectly off his waist. There"s a scant line of black hair traveling up the center of his stomach, and my eyes struggle to avoid staring at the scar.

The bulge of his muscular arms lets my imagination force a lump in my throat to form. What if this hurts?

"Mio dolce, I need you to understand a few things." Control seizes every syllable with his eye locking onto mine. "Whatever happens between us has to be agreed upon, but the kinds of things that I"d like to do need some leeway. If you ever feel scared, nervous, unsure, or unsafe, you need to tell me to stop. Am I understood?"

"Si mio marito." Yes, my husband is all I can say. There"s concern in his eyes, but I have questions.

"To be sure our words don"t get lost in the moment, say fermare. No confusion about saying stop in Italian. Would you like to ask me anything before we proceed, mio dolce?"

Even though there are a dozen questions clattering around my mind, one comes out more prominently than the others. "What if I can"t speak, or I can"t move?"

His eyes glance behind me at the cross. "We can adjust as we go, but depending on the position we"re in, three firm taps on my nearest body part if your arms and hands are free. Three hard snaps if your wrists are bound should do. Agreed?"

"Yes."

"Good girl. Let"s begin." The firmness of his tone settles over me, but the anticipation has every single nerve on edge. Alessandro circles around behind me, his warmth, scent, all encompassing presence, looming over me like a cloud. The strength of his hands gripping my shoulders, fingers curling around the fabric of the shirt to reveal a sliver of my nipples underneath, has me wet and ready for whatever comes next.

The growl coating his words sends vibrations of lustful anticipation through my body as he speaks. "Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to repeat myself, mio dolce? We made rules together, and not even twenty-four hours later, you let your emotions get the better of you. You are my wife."

Alessandro snatches the fabric off my shoulders, letting it sit in the crux of my elbows. He reaches around, one hand gripping me by the chin and the other firmly pressing against my pussy. I swallow at the powerful sensations pulsing through me.

He keeps a tight hold on me, tilting my head to the side and nuzzling against my neck. Our reflection is sexy, my tits on display with Alessandro"s bare chest pressing against my back. He"s forceful, possessive, ready to dominate me in any way his sinful imagination can dream up.

Without warning, he releases me, takes a few steps toward the chairs, and swings one around so the back faces the elevator and the side faces the mirror. He holds his hand toward me, and I slip my fingers into his palm. When he pulls me close, his mouth is on me, pushing his tongue around in a kiss that sets my body on fire.

The kiss ends abruptly with Alessandro sitting in the chair, his legs spread as he leads me to lie across them.

"Look at what you"re making me do, mio dolce." His grin is mischievous. My arms cross under my chin on the arm of the chair, his legs support my core, and my legs hang over the side. My bare ass and pussy are exposed as he moves the shirt up to expose the roundness of my backside.

Alessandro rubs my ass gently before I feel his hand move away from me. The swift crash of his palm against my skin forces a yelp out of me that echoes beside the smacking sound.

"Remember fermare, mio dolce," he warns me, and swats my behind again.

"Fuck! That stings," I huff out after the second swat, but my pussy, my body… every ounce of sexual energy is soaring and begging for more.

"Look how wet this pussy is for your husband," he sneers. That scar running down his face makes Alessandro appear far more sinister. I can"t seem to get enough. He smacks my ass again, and this time, the sound is more seductive than painful.

He rubs the areas he"s swatted and slides his fingers over my pussy, dipping a finger inside for good measure.

"Fuck me, you"re wet, Evelyn," he moans, fingering me for a moment longer before taking his fingers out of me to savor them. "You"ve broken the rules, mio dolce, but you"ve taken your punishment well."

Alessandro helps me turn over and cradles me as he stands up. The ease of his carrying me across the room to the bed gets me excited. The cock in my hands last night, I can"t wait to feel it buried deep inside my walls.

I don"t have to wait long because as soon as Alessandro places me on the bed, he"s rubbing the tip of his erection against my opening. The effortless stroke of Alessandro filling me to the hilt brings me to arch my back, but also to clench around his girth until I can adjust to his size.

"Mio dolce, we"ll be here forever if you wait until I fit. Let me inside you." Alessandro"s command is more of a request as he rests his arm under me, a hand bracing the back of my head and his other hand planted onto the mattress beside me. I take a deep breath and inch my legs wider apart.

"Good girl." Alessandro rewards me with such a tantalizing kiss that I forget the stretch of my walls as he begins to move in and out of me. Every stroke is deliberate, down and deep as he pushes in, firm and angled up as he pulls out. There"s a rhythm to Alessandro"s thrusts that ensures he hits my spot every time.

My entire body tenses with the oncoming orgasm. I let go, letting Alessandro work my body like he"s always known it belonged to him. His mouth descends on mine, and as I reach around to grab his back, he stops the kiss. He doesn"t say anything as he continues to fuck me, but he switches positions.

"Don"t touch me tonight, mio dolce." The snarl under his words is harsh, a warning. To ensure I follow the rules, he moves my hands above my head, and I hear the familiar sound of handcuffs locking me to the bars of the headboard.