{KILLIAN}
Hot water cascades around me as I brace my hand against the shower wall. My other hand grips my cock in a fucking chokehold, furiously jerking off.
I expected a lot of things from my new prize, but what she just did on that fucking stage I wasn't ready.
She truly is a sweet angel.
I've been with plenty of women, each of them rare in their own way, but never have I come across a woman so confident in herself or so sure about what she wants and how to get there. The way she wanted me despite her declaration of independence. The way she begged me to touch her, to fuck her, and the soft pleasure-filled moans that slipped from her lips. God, I wanted her, and if I had crept just an inch closer, I would have bent her over that fucking stage and fucked her until she screamed, but there will be time for that, and believe me, I will have my way with her.
I won't stop until I've felt the warmth of her cunt
squeezing around me and the way she comes undone and shatters as I thrust inside of her. I know it's going to be worth the wait.
When I fuck her, when I take her on her knees and bend her over, I need her to be ready for me, and while she was desperate to feel my touch tonight, she wasn't ready.
I need her well-rested and fed. She needs to wash away the filth from Ezekiel's warehouse and restore the energy she lost during her confinement, otherwise, she won't possibly keep up. When I fuck her, it will be all night. She won't just scream for more, she will ache for it, she will beg until her throat is raw, and I will oblige her every need. But most of all, I need to know how she tastes, or just how far I can push her before she breaks–and she will. I will break her over and over until she can't take another fucking second.
The scent of her arousal in the air almost brought me to my knees. It's ingrained in my memory, and as I furiously pump my thick cock up and down, I need to smell it again.
My jaw clenches, already knowing that no amount of pleasure l give to myself is ever going to compare to how it would feel being inside her. The way her petite fingers pushed inside her tight little cunt and massaged her walls made my hands ball into fists at my sides. I've never felt such an overwhelming or desperate need to take what's mine and claim every inch of her. I need to see the way her creamy skin reddens beneath my fierce touch, see the way her cheeks hollow out as she takes my cock deep in her
throat. But nothing compares to the moment she lifted her fingers to her lips and told me just how hard she needed to be fucked.
It was my undoing.
She's going to be such a good girl. She'll be the perfect whore for me, on her knees at my command.
A loud groan tears from the back of my throat as my fist tightens around my cock, and as I replay the memory of my sweet angel pushing her fingers deep inside her cunt, my balls tighten, and I shatter, shooting hot spurts of cum across my opulent shower.
I lean against my hand that's braced on the tiles, hanging my head as the high rocks through me. The water cascades over my face, but all I can do is stand here, gripping my dick as I try to calm myself.
The last thing I expected from this girl was to get me wound up like this. Don't get me wrong, she's fucking beautiful. I knew it the moment I laid my eyes on her. But when her fear begins to fade and she can look at me with confidence, she'll be fucking radiant. I knew I would enjoy her body, but it's the small snippets of her personality that have begun to shine through that are surprising me.
She's not compliant, and while I thought I wanted a woman to submit, perhaps her resistance is what I've needed. Her need to argue and hold on to her independence intrigues me, and for the first time in my life, I find a woman's defiance sexy as hell. Though nothing will ever beat the confidence I saw from her when she was on that stage.
If I allow her, she'll be the one trying to force my submission, but that will never happen. She just needs to learn her place here, needs to find where she fits into this fucked-up world and understand what it means to be the woman I come home to fuck each night. Once she's figured it out, something tells me she'll be unstoppable.
Getting out of the shower, I dry off and dress for another long day. It's almost seven in the morning, and I'm sure my employees are wondering what the fuck is going on with the half-naked woman I stormed through the door with only a few short hours ago. They need to know what's going on and what I expect of them where my new prize is concerned, and by the time I've finished filling them in, Sergiu should be in my office with an update on the raid downtown and a folder filled with every detail of Chiara Thorne's life.
As I finish buttoning my suit shirt and roll up my sleeves, I take my phone and call down to the kitchen. Putting the call on speakerphone, I wait all of three seconds before my head chef, Krista, accepts the call. "Mr. DeLorenzo, what can I help you with?"
"Call for a full staff meeting in the dining room. I'I| be down in ten minutes."
"Of course, Sir. And for breakfast?"
"No breakfast this morning. Just a coffee will be fine."
"Coming right up."
I end the call and finish getting myself ready for the day, dreading the long hours ahead before I finally get to crash, but unfortunately, a lack of sleep is simply a hazard of the job.
Making my way out of my bedroom, I pass the closed door that my latest mystery soundlessly sleeps behind, and considering the sedatives that were slipped into the glass of water on her bedside table, she should sleep for most of the day, assuming she was brave enough to drink it, of course.
Either way, I've offered her the privacy of a closed door in a luxurious bedroom with a private bathroom, and that's far more than she would have received in Ezekiel's warehouse.
She should be quite happy here, and if she's not then that's not my problem. She will have to figure out a way to find happiness here, otherwise, she will lead a very dull and lonely life.
Ignoring the lure of her creamy thighs, I head down the stairs and detour past the kitchen before scooping up my steaming coffee off the edge of the counter.
Krista has worked as my personal chef for a little over twelve years now–after I found her in a similar situation to Chiara.
She was too young, and there was never an
attraction there so instead of offering her my bed, I gave her my kitchen and she flourished there, and now, I can't imagine having anyone else working my kitchen. She's got it down to a fine art, and I fear the day she decides to move on. Don't get me wrong, she is free. I don't hold her to the same bounds as I do my new prize. Krista is an employee and can walk away at any point, just like the rest of my staff, and despite knowing exactly who I am and what I'm capable of, she sticks around, not out of fear, but out of loyalty.
Lifting my coffee to my lips, I take a quick sip before letting out a heavy breath and striding through my home. I make my way into the formal dining room and find my staff waiting for me, all but a few of my main security team who would have stayed at their posts, patrolling my property for potential threats.
I take my security very seriously and have the best of the best. My security detail is made up of ex-military special ops members, former champion MMA fighters, and the kind of men you wouldn't want to run into in a back alley. They make a deadly team, and yet not one
of them is more deadly than me.