My head spins, my body boiling under his soft touch. Victor Costa has such a way of making me forget he’s the enemy, the bad guy, the one I’m supposed to be protecting myself from. Or maybe that’s the alcohol, but when his lips crash against mine, I can’t think straight. I kiss him back and let him disarm me.
My choice? No one should give me this choice because I know it’s wrong and my better judgment has been throwing more flags than a referee at a soccer game. I just can’t seem to make my body align with what my head knows is the truth. His eyes and the way he looks at me have been unnerving me all night, making me second-guess what I really want.
‘Victor,’ I breathe, pushing his chest away.
‘What?’ he asks, lips smeared with my lip stain, eyes wild with lust. I know if I touched his lap, I’d feel the evidence of an erection that my core would love to feel slide into it.
‘I don’t know…’ I’m panting, catching my breath after that searing kiss. I don’t know why I stopped him or why my body feels sucked into his orbit.
‘I said what happens next is your choice.’ Victor starts to lean away, and my chest squeezes, that feeling you get when the thing you desperately want to happen looks as if it’s not going to happen. And I realize what I want is for him to keep kissing me, and not just kiss me. I want him to do more to me.
I grab his tie and pull him back, a little harder than I mean to, and his mouth crashes against mine again, knocking our teeth together, but I don’t waste any time leaning into it. His hands grip my thighs, guiding me as I shift and turn until I’m straddling him in the back seat of his limo. His erection, hot and hard, presses against me, making my core ache with need.
A quiet moan escapes me as he lifts his hips, grinding against me, and I rock my hips forward in response, desperate for more contact. His hands are everywhere, one on my breast, squeezing and teasing the taut nipple through my dress, the other guiding my hand down to his fly. I smooth over the outline of his length through his slacks and hear him groan low in his chest.
‘I…’ I’m breathless with arousal, ‘I… want you.’
He frees himself with practiced ease, and I moan. He’s even more impressive than I thought he’d be. Eagerly, I wrap my fingers around him, pumping his hard length, while he leaves a trail of kisses along my jawline, sucking, teasing. I whimper when his tongue dips into my ear, then circles it before he bites my earlobe.
“I want to hear you beg me like the good little girl you are.” His hands work to shimmy my dress upward around my hips while I stroke him and continue to devour kiss after kiss. They’re rough, not cautious with the flimsy material. I hear it tear and whimper as I press his length against my mound and grind on it. I’m undone, so horny I don’t even care how this may look to anyone. The wine is at play, but so are the thoughts I’ve been fighting ever since that stupid dance in the gallery. How can a man this rich and this attractive even look at someone like me?
He whispers, “Mmm so wet,” before sliding my panties to the side and pushing a finger inside me, coaxing out more of my wetness, which only makes me hotter. My pussy is screaming for the attention, probably drenched and puddling, ruining these panties.
‘Yes, please. Oh, fuck, yes…’ I moan, arching my back as he slides a second finger into me, his thumb resting just above my clit. Sensations explode, and my mind clouds over with pleasure, blotting out the world outside the car. All I can think about is him, his touch, his hardness.
He chuckles darkly, the emeralds in his eyes flashing mischief and lust as they meet mine. ‘That’s more like it,’ he growls. His fingers continue to work magic on my core, drawing breathless pants from my lips, whimpers of need. “I’m going to wreck this tight pussy, Bella. Destroy it completely. You’ll never want another man after me.”
His words inflame me further, spurring me on as I work him in my fist faster, groaning and rocking against his hand. ‘Yes, take me. My God, I fucking need you in me…” The words fall out of my lips unbidden but desperate. The throbbing at my center won’t stop. It won’t let me rest. My hand milks his turgid length, though somewhat haphazardly, as he presses down on my clit and bites my collarbone. His other hand paws at a tit, pulling the fabric of my gown down to bare the flesh to his greedy palm.
He growls, “Oh, fuck. You’re gonna make me lose it, Bella.”
The way he says my name only makes me hotter, wilder. Nails digging into his neck, I beg him to take me. “Fuck me! I can’t take it anymore!” I bellow like an animal in rut, my core pulsing around his digits, and the first breaker crashes, sucking me under. I grunt and convulse, bent over him, biting his shoulder. Victor works my pussy, timing his gentle strokes with the spasming of my thick, hot walls around his fingers. The pleasure courses through me. I forget where I’m at, who I’m with, that my hand is wrapped around his cock, until he pries my weak grasp away and I feel him line himself up to my entrance.
“Oh, God,” I whimper as he nudges the thick head of his penis inside. He’s so big, inching his way into my quivering passage as if to memorize the texture of my body, create a map in his head for next time. He’s thick, making me feel like a virgin all over again, though I hardly think I tear. But when his head slides against my back wall and he continues pushing in, I gasp and shudder.
His hand finds my clit, teasing it in slow circles as he bottoms out inside me. He rocks his hips in tiny little thrusts, stabilizing us both from losing our minds from how goddamn good this feels. One more inch and he’d be in my womb, and it feels like he’s trying, knocking on that door, tap-tap-tap.
“You’re so tight, Bella,” Victor growls through gritted teeth. “I can feel every goddamn inch of you.” His length slides in and out, torturing me. “I could tear you from hole to hole, you’re so tight.”
I respond with a moan, too distracted by his cock splitting me open for anything else. I hug my hips around him, to pull him deeper, deeper, but he holds me at bay, just short of orgasm. “No… more,” I beg. I’m too close—too close to the edge, and I want to go toppling over again.
He chuckles, the bastard, a sound of pure victory as he picks up the pace, sliding in and out, fucking me like an animal. “That’s it, Bella. Let go for Daddy.” The name shocks me out of my haze for a second. Daddy? Where did that come from? My mind reels, but my body flips over the edge, catapulting me into oblivion again as my core detonates in an explosive second orgasm.
His hand pulls me down harder as he rams into me, and I’m sure he’ll break through my cervix to inseminate me directly at the ovary. It’s painful and erotic, and I don’t want him to stop. My pussy milks him, clenching and releasing the vise-like grip over and over as he fucks me. I feel like a limp noodle, tossed but held tight in his firm grip.
“Shit,” I hum, eyes heavy with drink. And he’s not kidding. He’s going to tear me from hole to hole if he doesn’t stop. My hands rest on his shoulder, but I don’t push him away. Instead, I grip him closer as if my life depends on it.
Victor plows into me, heedless to my moans. Panting, I bury my face in his damp collarbone, and his muscles quiver underneath my cheek with each powerful thrust. The alcohol is taking over now, sucking me toward sleep, and his cock is relentless too. I’m nearly raw and still begging for more as he grunts.
I see stars behind my eyes as Victor releases, his cock spurting his hot cum deep inside my willing body, marking me as his own. His thrusts begin to slow, his teeth sinking into the flesh of my shoulder. Stubble on his chin scrapes along my neck as we hit a pothole, but his still-hard cock jams harder into my cervix, making me whimper. I feel his cum drain from me onto his lap, and I sigh, knowing it’s over.
Endorphins course through me too, pumping through my body at the pulse of my heart rate. Victor’s hands are gentler, smoothing across my back, pulling at my messy bun to let my hair down. He brushes it off my shoulders, exposes my neck again, then kisses me there at my pulse point.
“That was a gift. Thank you, Bella,” he says quietly. I don’t respond. I’m too drunk, too out of it and too delirious with pleasure.
But like all good things, even this must end. The car rolls to a stop and jolts us gently. His hands cup my ass, steadying me until the swaying is over. He’s still in me, still balls-deep and dripping with my juices and his.
With hooded, heavy eyes, I straighten and suck in a deep breath. Only then do I finally come to myself and realize what I’ve done. Victor Costa is a criminal and a dangerous man, and I’ve let him get into my head and under my skin.
‘This was a mistake,’ I mumble, pushing myself off him. He slides out of me, letting my panties slip back into place, and he sits there staring as I tug at my dress to lower it over my hips. His cock is still rock hard, glistening with our sex, and I reach for the door handle to open the door but his driver is there, pulling it open. I stumble out as Victor chuckles.
‘No need to rush off, Bella. We were just getting comfortable.’
I don’t even look back at him. The driver stands aside while I stagger a few steps onto the sidewalk and recognize the building I stand in front of. It’s home. I’m home. He’s had his driver bring me here, and I’m so glad.
My vision is blurry as I sway toward the glass double doors. I try not to seem too drunk, but to a sober person, I probably look hilarious. It’s dark, and not too many people are out and about, but I do see a shadowy figure by the door, leaning on the brick exterior of the building. It’s a man, smoking a cigarette. He has his foot pressed firmly against the brick, knee pointed out, and as I walk past him, he flicks his cigarette butt and follows me.
It’s a bit frightening, and I spin around hoping to see Victor by his limo watching, but the limo is gone and I’m alone.
‘What do you want?’ I snip in fear. My shoulders are tense, my mind still spinning from the abrupt turn.
‘Isabella, come now… You can’t possibly guess why I’m here?’ The man’s face comes into view under the light near the door.
‘Nicola,’ I whisper, swallowing hard against the way my throat constricts. I can almost feel his fingers wrapped around my neck, squeezing the life out of me the way he does in my nightmares. My testimony put him in prison for years. Men like him don’t let those things go easily.
‘Yes, Bella. Nee-cole-uh…’ I hate the way he accentuates the syllables like I’m an infant just learning to speak his name. ‘And I’ve come for what is due me.’
I back away, fumbling for the door handle behind me, but he presses a firm, strong palm against the glass and holds the door shut, pinning me between his body and the door. The adrenaline fights my buzz and sobers me, and my eyes flick around, hoping for someone to see what’s happening and save me. He could kill me. I know he wants to.
‘I don’t have anything of yours. Please go.’ My mouth is suddenly dry, palms sweaty. I think of Matthias and our meeting this evening. I was supposed to give him the Raphael and Victor showed up. I could’ve told Matthias I wanted security, a detail to follow me around until we were certain Nicola was out of town. I shouldn’t have let Victor bully me into dinner.
‘Oh, but you do. You know what I’m looking for. That Raphael is priceless, Bella, and I want it. You’re going to give it to me.’ He runs the outside of his fingers across my cheek, and I turn my face so I don’t have to look him in the eye or feel his touch.
‘I can’t. It’s with Interpol.’ My lie is so obvious. I’m not even good at lying, never have been. Nicola knows it too, and he sees right through it.
When his hand wraps around my throat, tightening down on my windpipe, my hands fly instinctively to his wrist and pull at it.
‘I said, you’re going to give it to me. I don’t believe for a second that you’ve coughed up that painting. You’re a lying sack. And you’re going to give me the Raphael and the forgery you created for it.’ My eyes are wide, guttural grunts for air vibrating up out of my constricted throat. I look him dead in the eye and shake my head, and he squeezes harder. ‘And you’re going to do it this week.’
He shoves me hard, then releases me, and my hands fly to my neck. I gasp for breath, coughing as my eyes well up with tears. Nicola isn’t joking. He’s going to hurt me badly if I don’t do what he says, but how can I? I have Matthias coming for the real one, Victor for the forgery, and my boss, Mr. Giani, expecting me to be the reputable, honest art authenticator I have the reputation for being.
‘I’ll be back. You’d better have it for me.’
Nicola walks away without touching me again, but I shake so violently I can’t even open the door. If Victor Costa doesn’t get me, Nicola Vitale will.
