Chapter 6

•RAFFAELE MANCINI• She didn’t flinch. Not even for a second. Her eyes locked on mine, steady and deliberate, and it made something in my chest tighten. There was no hesitation in the way she moved as her fingers pulled on the hem of her shirt. I told myself to look away and act indifferent but my body had other plans. My eyes traced her hands as she slowly lifted the fabric, exposing that beautiful skin that seemed to glow. So fair, smooth and untouched. The kind of skin that begged to be caressed, tasted, claimed. The shirt slipped over her head in such slow almost torturous movements , as if she had all the time in the world. She let it fall to the floor like it was nothing, like my gaze burning into her didn’t matter. My smirk had vanished, replaced by something far more dangerous, something I wasn’t sure I wanted her to see. Her fingers moved to her jeans next, her thumbs hooking into the waistband. My jaw tightened, a pulse of heat rushing down to my dick as she undid the button. She didn’t even blink. No shyness, no hesitation. She wasn’t some scared girl trembling under my scrutiny, she was challenging me. Testing me. The sound of the zipper sent a sharp shiver down my spine. I clenched my fists, forcing my expression to stay blank, though my composure was very close to breaking apart. She slid the jeans down her hips, her movements slow, hypnotic, and maybe annoying cause if she doesn't hasten up, I might actually loose my shit. The denim slipped over her legs, dropping to her feet, leaving her completely bare before me. And God help me, she was perfect and so beautiful. Every curve, every line of her body, was like a weapon designed to drive me insane. Her breasts, so soft and full, moved with the rhythm of her breath, drawing my gaze down to the delicate swell of them. They were everything I’d imagined. Round, inviting, with just the right amount of fullness that made them impossible to ignore. I wanted to touch her, wanted to claim every inch of her. That black lace of her bra which barely covered her breasts and scanty excuse for panties was nothing less than pure torture. I wanna rip them off so fucking bad. To suck on her most definitely pink nipples till they were all swollen and hurt. My mind flooded with images of my lips trailing down her neck, tasting the soft skin on her chest, my hands leaving marks that would last long after the moment. I wanted to cover her in hickeys, to watch her fair skin get multiple red marks under the pressure of my mouth. To punish her with my cock for being so rebellious and then kiss the sweet moans from her lips. Every inch of her was perfect, and every part of me ached to explore it, to possess it and leave my mark on her in ways she wouldn’t forget. My throat dried up, and my skin felt too tight, like I was about to snap. She didn’t shake or shy away, not once, and all through she continued to stare at me, as if daring me to look away. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. She knew. Of course, she knew. She was fully aware of what she was doing to me, and how close I was to losing every shred of control. And she reveled in it. She stepped forward, her bare feet silent on the floor till we were close enough to feel the tension crackle between us, my pulse racing but I tried to keep my expression under control, I can't give her the satisfaction of seeing me crack. "If you’re going to order me around Raffaele," she said softly, her voice as smooth as silk, "you might as well enjoy the view." Her words hung in the air, scattering through the chaos in my head. I didn’t respond. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. My throat was too tight, my mind too deep with thoughts I shouldn’t be having. She didn’t wait for a reaction. She turned, her hips swaying with every step as she walked toward the bathroom. My eyes didn't leave her ass until the bathroom door clicked shut behind her, cutting me off from the madness she’d left in her wake. I stood there, stunned, every nerve in my body tight. Fuck. Two breaths. Three. It didn’t help. She’d flipped the entire dynamic over, leaving me scrambling to regain control. Dante was right, she wasn’t just dangerous, she was chaos. I turned and stalked toward my study, the distance at least gave me just enough clarity to breathe. We still had two hours until dinner. That would be more than enough time to calm down or more than enough to flip her over that dressing table and fuck the senses out of her. No. I clenched my fists, forcing the thought aside. She was playing her game, but she wasn’t going to win. I wasn’t going to let her. My lips curled into a smirk as I picked up my phone and dialed a number, my breathing still heavy and tense. "Be here in two hours. No excuses." I ended the call and leaned back in my chair, a soft chuckle escaping from my lips. She actually believed she’d had the final say, thinking she'd won this round. Fine. Let her think that. It's game on. *** The room was thick with silence as dinner was served. They brought out the meal, an aromatic spread of braised veal shanks with gremolata, served alongside creamy polenta. The tender veal practically fell off the bone, with deep, rich flavors, a perfect complement to the smooth, buttery texture of the polenta. I watched as she took her first bite with her eyes lighting up as she chewed. "I’ve never had anything like this before," she said, surprised, her voice softer than usual. "You like it?" I asked, still watching her carefully. "It’s amazing," she said, looking up at me with a small smile. "The meat’s so tender, and the creamy sauce..." "Polenta" I cut in. "That's what it's called? It’s just so smooth. I didn’t think food could taste like this." I let out a low chuckle, leaning back in my chair. "It’s a classic. The veal is slow-cooked to perfection. You can’t rush the good things." Her smile grew a little, more genuine now, the harshness of our earlier encounter starting to fade. She continued to eat, savoring the rich flavors, her eyes softening with every bite. I, on the other hand, was still very aware of her and the tension we’d built between us. It hadn’t disappeared. Not even close. And I was still very hard. She finished the last bite, sitting back in her chair with a sigh, and I stood up without saying a word. My phone buzzed at the same time, the notification signaling she—my guest—had arrived . "Finish up," I told her, my voice tight and impatient. "We’re going somewhere." There was no protest from her. Not even a question. She simply nodded and followed me with that same confidence that now seems to rile up something in me. I led her through the hallways, my anticipation growing continuously. When we reached the door, I swung it open and stepped inside, Hazel following closely behind. The playroom was just as it always was, but tonight it had a different feel to it. The low lighting cast shadows on the walls, and in the center of the room, there she was. Naked, and blindfolded, hands on her thighs with her knees spread wide. I could feel Hazel’s shock before I even saw it. Her breath paused and her eyes locked onto the woman as her heart seemed to stop for a moment. "Uhm... Raffaele, why are we here?" "Why else? For dessert."