He is a force to be reckoned with. A lift of his finger & people are beheaded in seconds. A word from him & the streets of NY are bathed in blood. Any evil deed, you name it & he has done it. Vicious, nefarious, brutal & downright cruel. Majestic in...
The dance comes to a close as we sway together in an unhurried and sensual rhythm. Angel looks up from my arms, her eyes betraying what she wants. I lean down and she erases the rest of the distance, connecting our lips. We share a heated, lingering kiss, sealing the raw passion that we have unveiled on the dance floor.
Letting her go, I roam my gaze around us and see everyone consumed in their respective partners. Both of us breathing hard, I grab her hand and pull her through the exit.
I do not give a fuck how desperate I probably look right now. I just want her.
Alone.
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Anastasia's POV:~
Alessandro told the driver to take the limo back and decided to drive himself. The minute we are settled in the Lamborghini, he starts the ignition. Eyes pitch black. Knuckles white. Veins popping out. Jaw tight. Teeth grinding. All this compressed into an impeccable Armani suit. He is a sight to behold.
My breath shortens just looking at him.
"Give me your panties." He orders.
Perplexed, I stare at him, "What?"
One look from him, and I do just that. I do not know what it is about him that compels me to do whatever he asks. Perhaps, I am overly submissive, or he is simply too domineering.
But I was not like this before. He brings out that side of me.
I take out my underwear ever so slowly while he taps his long fingers on the steering, waiting. I hand the almost wet fabric over to him and see him gripping it in his fist before pulling it near his nose. With the first whiff that enters his nostrils, a suppressed groan leaves his mouth, and my face blazes red, cheeks fuming.
God, he is so dirty!
"Widen your legs."
This time I follow without more words. My thighs unclench, parting to let the air touch my bare skin. I inhale deeply when I see my panty wound tightly around the steering wheel, the wet patch right in the middle against his palm.
What in heaven's name!
I let out a heavy breath, sitting on the expensive leather. My eyes look at him wearily.
"Touch yourself."
What?
I turn to him to see whether he is joking but there is nothing amusing about his stone-cold expression.
