Page 41 of Ruthless

She kicks the blanket aside, stripping off her pants, lifting her sweater up over those perfect breasts, and tucking the material beneath her chin. The sight that greets me when she parts her legs steals the breath from my lungs. Every part of her is flawless, from the rounded thighs to the thick curvature of her ass. But I can’t take my eyes off her pussy. I zoom into the feed with clumsy fingers and bring the image tantalizingly closer.

“Cazzo.” I can’t see how wet she is through the camera, but I can hear her pussy’s sloppy sounds as she drives her fingers deeper.

“Spread those lips. Show me what I’m missing.” Sara obeys my gruff, almost desperate command, and I watch, enraptured as she loses herself to sensation, her head falling back and her eyes closing. It’s all I can do to not get on the elevator right now and go to her.

Her hoarse cries ring through my office, and her hips jerk and twist, desperate for something bigger to fill the emptiness.

That something should be me.

My hand clenches my length, and I smear the pre-cum to reduce friction before stroking harder and faster. My balls tighten, but I don’t slow my pace. “You’re doing so well,tesoro. Don’t stop. We’re so close.”

It doesn’t take her long to fall over the edge. Planting her feet on the cot, her back bows, and my own release punches through me. I shout her name as another convulsion shakes her curvy frame.

Cum drips from my hand, while on-screen, Sara sits up, breathing raggedly and peering at the camera through heavy-lidded eyes. For a wild moment, I imagine she can see me, that she knows just how much I’m willing to demean myself for a chance to have her again.

No.No.

I shoot to my feet, disgust by my traitorous thoughts. My pants hang low on my hips as I shove the computer off the edge of my desk. The screen goes dead as it crashes against the hardwood floor, but I’m already spinning away. I’ll get a new one in the morning. With my left hand, I pull my shirt over my head and use the fabric to clean myself up.

I’ve hated Sara for longer than I loved her, which means I should be a pro at this by now. Like an idiot, I assumed thatmy hatred would be enough to see this through. She helped send me to hell, and instead of dragging her down with me, I’m questioning the Council and jerking off in a dark office in the middle of the night.

Perhaps Zanni and Pantalone were right to question my loyalty.

Chapter 14

Sara

Dante strides beside me, his hand creating an uncompromising pressure on my elbow. I have no idea what time it is, but based on how my stomach’s growling, I missed dinner. I peek up at him to see if he noticed, only to find myself momentarily distracted by the sight of him pushing his wavy brown hair off his angular face. His muscles strain against his t-shirt’s sleeves, and my mouth waters. He smells of fresh sandalwood and whatever shampoo he’s currently using.

After last night, the close proximity is torture, but I try not to let it show. He’s his usual cold, stoic self, though his expression seems a little softer. I can’t tell if my ability to read his poker face is improving or if he’s slowly dropping his guard.

Now that he’s not glaring at me, I can see the dark circles beneath his eyes.

I can’t help but tease him a little. “Rough night?”

He grunts and shoves me forward. “Walk.”

Wincing, I get on the elevator, shying away when he reaches around me and presses the button for the first floor. I can’t handle his touch in this moment. Not after listening to him come as he watched me touch myself. I tried to speak to himafterward, but he didn’t respond, his silence dimming the afterglow of my much-needed release.

I lean back against the wall of the elevator and wonder where he’s taking me.

Over two weeks have passed since Dante abducted me, and thanks to Gregor, I’m becoming more familiar with the house’s layout. Sometimes I ask my guard probing questions, other times I just pick up details during our increasingly casual, albeit brief interactions.

Like Angela, he shows up frequently. Between Gregor and my visit to the training ring that first day, I’ve surmised that Dante has at least seven guards. Some of them live in the townhouse next door, which Dante also owns, while the others have rooms somewhere upstairs.

Angela is part of the medical team on the third floor, but I don’t know how many others work with her. I’ve been gathering as much information as I can about how things operate and who’s who, just in case I can use it to my advantage somehow. Unfortunately, all the intel in the world is useless if I’m locked up the whole time.

But when Dante opened my cell five minutes ago and told me I needed to startearningmy keep, I thought my prayers were answered. Now, as he drags me out of the elevator, his hand shackling my wrist, I’m not so sure.

My eyes widen as I absorb the ornate, gold-trimmed furniture. Feeling shabby by comparison, I hitch my too-large sweatpants up a little higher and straighten the edges of my sweatshirt. If this were a test to see how well I fit in here, I would be failing. Unaware or uncaring of my discomfort, Dante tugs me down a corridor featuring tasteful artwork, fancy crown molding, a recessed ceiling, and gleaming dark wooden floors.

Each hallway and door create a potential escape route. Or, at least, they would be if there weren’t security cameras everydozen feet. I cast my eyes downward so it doesn’t seem like I’m casing the joint.

The house resembles a model home. Expensive belongings furnish the rooms we pass, but none of them remind me of Dante. This place intentionally doesn’t reveal anything about the owner. The decor serves as yet another mask, a fact that irritates me.

Is nothing about this man real? Is every waking moment an act for some imagined audience? Was I just another object for him to flaunt? A thing with no real meaning to fit the image he wants to display to the rest of the world?

Dante pushes open a set of swinging double doors at the end of the hallway, and we enter a chef’s paradise dominated by shiny chrome, from the two massive stovetops to the three industrial-sized refrigerators. In an open doorway near the window, I discover a walk-in pantry bigger than my bedroom at home.