Page 27 of His Cruel Exception

Antonio doesn't say anything as he disappears into the walk-in closet, leaving me to tend to my poor, abused limbs. He returns a moment later with a robe, which he hands to me without offering any explanation.

“Come,” he says, and turns toward the door.

Chapter

Thirteen

ALEX

I stare after Antonio for a second, wondering whether it would physically hurt the man to use a few more words whenever he speaks to me before slipping my arms into the sleeves and pulling the robe around myself, cinching the belt at my waist before climbing off the bed.

My legs feel a little unsteady after spending so long in the same position, and I have to pause for a moment to get my bearings before attempting my first step. The initial discomfort from the ring has begun to fade into a more manageable ache, but I'm still aware of its presence whenever I move, so I take a few cautious steps across the room to figure out how I'm supposed to walk without making matters worse.

By the time I make it into the hallway, Antonio is already several steps ahead of me, and when I follow him into the dining room, the sight of the dishes arranged on the table makes my stomach growl again.

I take the seat beside Antonio and dig into the mac and cheese, not even bothering to ask whether it's meant for me. The first mouthful is still warm, and I have to resist the urge to shovel the rest of it into my mouth, but I still eat much faster than I normally would, paying attention to nothing else until I've finished every last bit on my plate.

Antonio tells me to return to my room, and I get to my feet, adjust the belt of my robe, and make my way out of the dining room without uttering a single word. I’m able to walk much better now, and after spending the last few minutes getting used to the unfamiliar sensation, I’m beginning to think that maybe the cage isn’t all that bad, and if I’m being completely honest with myself, I don’t think I mind wearing it.

I remember Logan wearing one when he went through that idiotic phase of swearing off dicks, although his grand decision to embrace celibacy lasted about as long as it took him to meet another attractive man. I think he made it three days before abandoning the whole thing. At least I can now say I have something in common with him, although I doubt our reasons for wearing one are remotely similar.

The more I think about it, the more I begin to convince myself that perhaps I should start looking at my time with Antonio Scalera as an important experience I need to have in my twenties. Everyone is always going on about how your twenties are supposed to be the years when you make questionable decisions, discover new things about yourself, and collect embarrassing stories to laugh about when you’re older. Who’s to say that getting involved with a dangerous mafia heir isn't simply my contribution to that particular tradition?

Granted, I suspect most people my age are experimenting with things that don't involve men who could have them buried in an unmarked grave, but what’s the fun in that? Besides, if I survive this whole experience with all my limbs intact, I'll finally have something interesting to contribute whenever my friends start sharing their hookup stories.

Feeling considerably better about my situation, I climb onto the bed when I get back to the room, arrange the pillows behind my back and stretch out my legs. About thirty minutes later, just as I'm beginning to wonder whether I should lie down and try to get some sleep, I hear the click of the door, and I look up to find Antonio stepping into the room.

He's no longer wearing his shirt, and the dim light coming through the window does very little to hide the definition of his muscles. I find myself following the broad expanse of his shoulders down to his chest and stomach before I realize that I'm staring at him shamelessly. A nervous flutter unfurls in my belly, and I quickly lift my eyes to his face, although I have a feeling it's a little too late to pretend I wasn't just admiring him.

He walks toward me, his biceps flexing with the movement and I lean forward in an attempt to make out the design of the ink covering his arm. I can't see it properly, but it looks like some kind of flower, which is an unexpectedly delicate choice for someone who spends so much of his time being an absolute menace.

He stops beside the bed, his dark eyes moving over my face before drifting lower and lingering on the erratic rise and fall of my chest. I open my mouth, although I haven't decided what I'm going to say, when his hand closes around my ankle and he pulls me down the length of the bed, making me gasp as my back slides across the sheets. Antonio keeps his grip on my ankle, holding me in place while I stare up at him with my heart beating even faster than before.

He looks down at me for a moment, his expression giving nothing away. “Let’s see how well you’ve learned to behave, little stripper,” he murmurs in a terrifyingly calm voice.

Antonio starts removing my robe, and I lift my body to help him pull it off. He tosses it aside and climbs onto the bed, his thighs bracketing me as he produces a small bottle from his pocket. He opens it then squirts some lube on the highly sensitive, pinched skin around the base ring. I follow the movement of his hands as he rubs it in, and the cooling relief is so welcome after the discomfort.

My hips twitch involuntarily, and Antonio captures my hip bone with one palm, pining me against the mattress for a few seconds before raising my legs to his shoulders. He then pours lube on his fingers and circles the rim of my hole.

My body jerks, and I can feel heat rushing to my cheeks as I stare up at him, suddenly unsure of what I'm supposed to do with my hands or where I'm supposed to look.

Oh my God, it's happening. I'm going to have sex for the first time, and of all the men I could have lost my virginity to, it's going to be Antonio Scalera.

“It’s my first time,” I blurt out.

Oh, for God's sake. Why did I tell him that?

His hand stills, and I immediately regret opening my mouth, especially when he raises his eyes to mine with an expression I can't decipher.

“You’re a virgin?”

I cover my eyes with my hands and peel at him through my fingers. “It’s not a big deal as such. I wasn’t waiting for a special guy or anything. I’ve just not gotten around to it yet.”

Which is true. Between my former tutoring jobs, school, and everything else going on in my life, I haven't had much time to get on a dating app and find men to hookup with.

Antonio doesn’t say anything. His expression remains unreadable as he picks up from where he left off, pressing one lubed digit inside my hole. My cock tries to grow within the confines of the cage but my arousal is met with a warning bite of pain and I feel tears gathering in my eyes.

Antonio thrusts his fingers in and out of me, leaving me writhing beneath him, a throbbing ache blooming alongside the mounting pleasure. His dark eyes remain fixed on me, and a slow, dangerous smile touches his lips as he pushes another digit inside me, scissoring his fingers and then pushing them in deeper until he brushes my prostrate. The sensation is overwhelming, liquid warmth erupting deep in my gut. I try to keep my breathing steady, but a broken, high-pitched moan escapes me, and I dig my heels into his back as my back arches off the mattress.