Chapter 11

Serena

S alvatore leads me to the waiting car, the driver hurriedly opening the door for us. Without a word, Salvatore ushers me inside. The car door shuts with a decisive click, enveloping us in silence. Salvatore doesn't wait for the driver. Instead, he slides into the driver's seat and starts the engine himself.

“Keys.” He grunts out with an extended hand, and only then do I remember that I drove here. Rummaging through my purse, I hand them over to him, and he throws them to the driver who heads to my car hastily.

The drive back to the mansion is charged with potent desire. Not a single word is spoken. I can feel my body betraying me with a craving for him despite my anger. I steal glances at him, my eyes drawn to the veins in his hands, the way those strong hands grip the steering wheel harshly. His thick thighs flex slightly with each press of the pedal, and the shadow of his beard accentuates his strong jawline.

I try to steady my racing heart. I can feel myself dripping, and I silently pray for us to arrive at the mansion soon. I'm not sure I can keep myself from jumping on him if this tension continues to build.

When we finally reach the mansion, Salvatore parks the car and exits quickly, moving to open my door. I rush inside, desperate to put some distance between us. But I can hear his footsteps close behind.

I make a beeline for the guest bedroom. When I fling the door open, I freeze. The room no longer resembles a bedroom. The furniture is gone, the walls stripped of color, pieces of wood and tiles scattered everywhere. It's a construction zone, a chaotic mess.

“What the hell?” I scream.

Before I can say anything else, he wraps his arms around me from behind, his chuckle low and throaty. "Your place is with me, Serena. My wife sleeps in my bed."

I struggle against his hold, but his grip is firm. "What have you done?" I demand.

He nuzzles my neck, his breath hot against my skin. "All your stuff is in our bedroom," he murmurs. "You’ve had more than enough space from me already."

I try to pull away, but his hold tightens, and despite everything, a shiver of desire runs through me. I hate that my body responds to him like this.

"Salvatore," I whisper. "I haven't forgiven you."

He turns me around to face him, his eyes dark and intense. "I know," he says. "But I won't let you go. Not now, not ever."

His lips crash onto mine, and all my resistance melts away. His kiss is demanding, consuming, and I find myself kissing him back with equal fervor, my tongue fighting with his. The anger, the pain, the desire—all blend together in our kiss.

I break it, biting my lip. "You need me this much?" I taunt, my voice laced with challenge. "Are you that desperate for me? Do you want my touch that badly?"

He grabs my face, bringing it close to his, our breaths mingling. "More than anything," he says, his eyes burning with intensity.

I gulp, almost choking on my spit. But I raise my head high, refusing to back down.

"Then get down on your knees," I order. "Show me how desperate you are for it. Maybe then I'll think about giving it to you."

His body tenses, a vein on his temple pulsing, his fists clenched at his sides. The struggle is evident in his eyes, the fight between his pride and his desire. "If that's what you need to touch me, baby, to let me touch you, that's what you will get."

He fights with himself, his jaw grinding audibly. But then, with a resigned growl, he kneels at my feet. Even like this, he looks manly and powerful, a force of nature brought low by his need for me.

"Are you happy now, baby?" he asks, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "You've got the man everybody fears on his knees, begging for a touch of yours, just for you to look his way."

I stare down at him, my clit pulsing. This is what I've wanted, to see him brought to his knees, to see his desperate need for me. I reach out, my fingers brushing his cheek. "We'll see," I say softly. "We'll see if you deserve it."

I walk towards our bedroom, the click of my heels echoing through the silent mansion. I can hear Salvatore moving behind me, trying to stand up, to follow me.

I tut disapprovingly and turn to look at him. Our eyes lock for a moment, a silent battle of wills. He curses under his breath, then gets back on his knees, crawling behind me.

This doesn't mean anything, I try to convince myself. This is just something I need for my pride after he broke it. But seeing this powerful, strong man at my mercy is making me so hot, the rush of power intoxicating.

Reaching the bedroom, I sit on the couch, raising my leg in his face, twirling my foot. He understands immediately, his warm hands moving to unbuckle my heel. He looks up at me, his eyes filled with longing, and starts kissing my foot all over.

"You like that, baby?" He asks between kisses, his voice deep and gravelly. "You like having this powerful man kissing your feet? Knowing that you are the only soul in the world he would be at the mercy of? Knowing that he's willing to worship you, for a single touch, a taste?"

I raise my other foot, pressing the heel against his mouth to shut him up. He looks away, slamming the floor with his fist in frustration but controls his anger.

He reaches out, unbuckling the other heel and giving my foot the same tender treatment as the first one.

The sight of him, kneeling before me, worshipping me with such fervor, sends a thrill through my entire body. I look down at him, my eyes full of lust. "Unbuckle your belt," I purr.

His big hands move immediately, the sound of the belt clinking as he obeys. I lick my lips, watching him intently.

"Unzip your pants," I say huskily, "Take it out."

His hands tremble slightly as he follows my orders, revealing himself to me. My breath catches in my throat. It's so big, so perfect, just like him. I’ve missed this. My body craves him like I've been parched for decades and he's the only source of water.

I lean in close, my teeth grazing his chin. "You want me to touch you?" I tease.

"I will die if you don't, baby," he grumbles, his voice raw with need.

I raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing on my lips. "But you don't deserve my hands on you, Salvatore," I tell him.

A muscle in his jaw twitches, his frustration palpable. I place my feet around his cock, watching as he throws his head back.

"I'd take anything you give me, baby, anything," he confesses. "I crave all of you."

My feet slide up and down his length, teasing him mercilessly. "You like this, don't you?" I repeat his previous words.

"Yes," he groans, his eyes closing in bliss. "I love it, baby. Please, don't stop."

I press my toes against his tip, making him hiss with pleasure.

His entire body tenses, the veins in his neck standing out. I move my feet with deliberate slowness, watching his every reaction, savoring them.

"Look at me," I order.

His eyes snap open, locking onto mine. The arousal in his gaze makes me feel like a porn star. I move my feet faster, watching him struggle to maintain control.

"Please," he spits out. "I need more."

"Do you?" I ask, my tone teasing. "Tell me what you need, Salvatore."

"I need you," he pleads. "I need to feel you, touch you, be inside you. Please, Serena."

His pleading stirs something deep within me, but I ignore it. I continue to pleasure him with my feet.

"Beg for it," I whisper, my eyes boring into his.

"Please, Serena," he begs, his voice rough. "I'll do anything. Just let me touch you, let me be inside you."

With my pre-cum soiled feet, I push his shoulders, making him stumble back slightly. "This is all you deserve, Salvatore," I taunt.

He looks up at me, biting his lip. I can see the internal struggle, the need to maintain control battling with his overwhelming need for me.

I put my feet back on his shoulders, using them to guide him back down to his knees. "Stay right there," I say.

Slowly, I slide one foot along his length, feeling him throb beneath my touch. His entire body trembling with the effort to remain still.

I curl my toes around him, applying just the right amount of pressure, and begin to move my feet up and down. His hips jerk involuntarily, and he lets out a low, guttural moan.

I press my heel against his balls, rolling them in slow, torturous circles.

I can feel the tension building, the climax drawing near. I dig my toes into his length, moving with a frenzied rhythm, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

With a strangled cry, he finally cums, his release spilling over my feet in a white sticky mess. His body convulses, and he gasps for breath, his hands clutching at my legs as if they were his lifeline.

His hands move up to raise my dress, exposing my thighs. He places soft kisses along my skin, inching closer to my core. I can feel myself almost giving in, my body betraying me.

His lips reach the edge of my lace underwear, and he places a kiss right on top of them. The sensation burns with pleasure, and I grab his hair, pulling his face up to meet mine.

"You only get one more kiss," I tell him, my voice firm but breathy. I don’t want to give myself to him fully.

He growls, clearly frustrated. "You're too engrossed in your little fantasy now, but remember, I'm the one in control."

I laugh softly, shaking my head. "Are you? Because you're still on your knees."

His eyes darken with a mixture of anger and desire. He bites my inner thigh hard, making me gasp.

"I'm bearing this for you," he says. He looks up at me with a smirk, then quickly pushes the cloth of my underwear to the side and places an open-mouth kiss on my flesh, making out with it.

The sensation is almost too much, and I instinctively try to push his face back in, wanting more. But he pulls away, shaking his head with a dark, evil look in his eyes.

"One kiss only, baby," he reminds me, using my command against me.

He stands up and begins to undress. My eyes follow him, drinking in every inch of his muscular frame. He stops at his underwear and heads to the bed, lying down as if nothing happened.

I glare at him, my body still trembling with need. Without a word, I head to the bathroom to wash up, closing the door behind me. I know what I need, and it isn't him right now. It’s my shower head… I’m fucking lying to myself.