Page 33 of Captive Bride: Armani
He cups my face and tugs me out of the closet, kicking the door shut behind me, pulling me close for a deep kiss. Losing myself in his taste, I let him expertly undress me, my clothes fluttering around my feet. His hands roam my bare skin and leave trails of goose bumps, making me shiver. Finally, he unhooks my bra and slides it down my arms. My breasts push against his shirt, my nipples tingling as they’re crushed into the soft fabric. His tongue strokes against mine, his kiss robbing me of the ability to think, to rationalize. All I can do is feel.
His mouth trails down my neck, teasing me with lips, tongue, teeth. Slowly, he sinks to his knees, kissing my chest, my breasts, my belly as he drops to the floor. Gripping my hips, he presses his lips against the apex of my thighs. I can feel his hot breath through the fabric of my underwear, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. I dig my fingers into his hair, hanging on as he roughly tugs the crotch of my panties to the side and licks between my pussy lips, finding my sweet spot.
Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back and moan, tightening my grip on his hair.
He growls with pleasure as he tastes me, lapping his tongue expertly in quick vertical strokes. I’m on fire. My thighs quiver as he runs his nails over my ass, pressing his face tighter against me, licking me harder. Circling my clit, then dragging his tongue down to my opening, darting inside all too briefly, leaving me panting for more. Just when I think I can’t take another second of his teasing mouth, he spins me to face a low dresser and then bends me over it. I flatten my palms against the top, my body tensing for what comes next.
Pulling my ass toward him, Armani whisks off my underwear. My adrenaline rushes as I listen to him make quick work of his own clothes, turned on even more by the sounds of zippers and clinking belt buckles and falling fabric that I can hear behind me. When he leans low over my back, his cock throbs against my inner thigh, the length hot and rigid.
“Mmm,” I moan, pushing my ass back into him.
“Do you feel safe like this?” he murmurs.
Kissing the back of my neck, he moves one hand to my breast and lightly teases my nipple. Moaning again, I hang my head.
“Yes.”
“Do you think you should feel safe right now? So vulnerable…at my mercy.”
My brain pulls from the fog just enough that I pay closer attention to what he’s just said. But then he slides his cock higher, rubbing the tip against my lower lips. My wetness slicks the length of him. He could slip inside so easily.
“I can do anything I want to you,” he adds. “Anything.”
I know this. It’s the whole problem. And yet…Iwanthim to do anything he wants. I am at his mercy, and I like it. Images of the cellar come back, but I force them away. Not now.
“Then do it,” I say, my voice throaty. “Anything you want.”
“Don’ttempt me.”
A shiver goes through me. I just want him to fuck me and get me off. I really don’t care how he does it. When it comes to sex with Armani Bellanti, the man can do no wrong.
“I’m yours,” I whimper.
“Hell right you are.”
A shock of heat stings my right buttock as he slaps my ass, and then he shoves himself inside me with a hard thrust. I grunt at the suddenness, the roughness of it, gasping as his shaft stretches me. Perhaps mistaking my pleasure for pain, he reaches around to finger my clit as he starts pumping gently into me.
“Faster—more,” I beg.
He picks up his pace, his chest covering my back, our bodies pressed together. As he spears into me I’m completely wrapped up in him, consumed by him. Safely embraced. Nothing can get to me, to us. Not with Armani this close.
“Keep me safe,” I moan, rolling my hips to meet his every thrust. “Please. Don’t let anything bad happen.”
Where are these words coming from? It’s as if he’s unleashed a long-repressed fear from deep inside me. Then again, I’ve never felt safe, have I? Not with my family, not with ex-boyfriends, and not even with Armani. Especially after what I saw in that cellar.
I’m afraid of him, but I want him. He could hurt me, but he’ll keep me safe.
“I won’t,” he vows. “Not ever. I protect what’s mine.”
“Am I yours?” I ask.
“Mine,” he repeats.
He slams into me so hard the dresser rocks, knocking against the wall. I throw my head back just as he takes a fistful of my hair.
“Say it again,” I plead.
He groans from deep in his throat. “Mine. You’re mine. All mine.”
