Rejected by the Heir, She Married the Don novel · Chapter 3 of 24
Chapter 3: The Desk
Dario ties her wrists with his tie and takes her virginity on his desk. A text from Stefano lights her phone: What did you do.
I stood up on the carpet and reached behind me for the zipper.
My hands would not work.
Dario watched me struggle with it, and he didn't help.
"Slowly," he said. "I want to see every inch of it come off."
The zipper went down with a long dry sound.
I pushed the green dress off my shoulders and let it fall.
It pooled at my feet on his carpet.
I wore a plain white bra and plain white underwear, bought for a boy who had never seen them.
Dario looked at me for a long time.
"Take it all off."
I unhooked the bra, and my arms wanted to cross over my chest, and I made them stay down.
I stepped out of my underwear and stood naked in the lamplight, with my chin up.
He didn't speak.
His eyes went down me once and came back up, and the muscle in his jaw jumped.
"Good girl," he said.
The words went through my whole body.
I had never been told that by anyone, and I had wanted it all my life without knowing.
He pulled the black silk tie out of his collar.
"Hands."
I held out my wrists.
He wound the tie around them twice, tight enough that I felt it, and knotted it.
Then he lifted me by the waist and laid me back across the desk.
He raised my bound hands above my head until my fingers touched the far edge.
"Keep them there."
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Dario."
"Better."
The wood was cool along my spine.
He stood between my knees and set his palms on my thighs.
He pushed them wide, and I felt the cold air on how wet I was.
"Look at that," he said, very low.
Then he bent his head and put his mouth on me.
I cried out and my hips came off the desk.
His forearm clamped across my stomach and held me down.
His tongue dragged slowly through me, over my clit, down, and back.
"Oh God," I said. "Dario."
He did it again, slower.
My bound hands pulled at the edge of the desk, and there was nothing to hold.
He sucked my clit into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue.
I was babbling, begging in no order: please, and there, and don't stop.
"You taste better than I imagined," he said into my skin, and then his mouth was back.
He slid two fingers inside me, curled them, and found a place that made my vision white.
I came with a scream I couldn't have kept down if I'd tried.
He kept going.
He worked me through it and past it.
I twisted under his arm until the next one rose behind the first and took me again.
When he finally lifted his head, his mouth was shining.
He wiped it with his thumb, put the thumb between my lips, and I sucked it clean without being told.
He made a low noise in his chest.
"You're ready," he said.
He opened his belt.
I watched him take himself out, thick and heavy and dark.
I knew I should be afraid of the size of it.
"Dario."
"Tell me to stop," he said. "Say the word, and we stop."
"Don't you dare."
He gave me a short, hard smile.
He leaned over me with one hand braced on the desk by my head.
He guided himself with the other, and the blunt head of him pressed against me.
"It'll hurt," he said. "Breathe and look at me."
I looked at him.
He pushed in an inch.
It burned.
My body tried to close and could not, and I gasped through my teeth.
"There," he said. "Good. Just like that."
He came forward another inch and stopped, and I felt him shaking with the effort of holding still.
"You're so tight," he said roughly. "You feel like nothing I've ever had."
"More."
"Elise."
"I said more."
He thrust, and something gave way, and a sharp pain ran through me and went hot and was gone.
I cried out.
He held there, buried to the root, and let me feel every inch of him.
His mouth dropped to mine.
He kissed me slow and deep.
The ache in me turned into something else, a fullness that I wanted to move.
"Move," I whispered. "Please."
"Say it again."
"Please fuck me."
He pulled almost all the way out and drove back in.
My back arched off the walnut.
"Good girl," he said. "Take it. All of it."
He set a rhythm, long and deep, each stroke dragging over the place he had found with his fingers.
The desk creaked under us.
The tie bit into my wrists every time I pulled, and I loved the bite.
I wrapped my legs around his waist.
He growled, gripped my hips and slammed into me harder.
The sound of our bodies filled the study.
"Look at me," he said. "I want your eyes when you come."
"I can't."
"You can."
He reached between us, found my clit with his thumb, and pressed.
I broke.
It tore up through my whole body.
I screamed his name into the dark room with my eyes on his.
I clenched around him so hard that he swore.
"That's it. That's my girl."
His rhythm went ragged.
"Elise," he said. "I'm going to come inside you."
"Do it."
He buried himself to the hilt and held there, and his head dropped to my shoulder.
I felt him pulse deep in me, hot and long.
The sound he made against my skin was low and wrecked.
For a while neither of us moved.
My wrists throbbed. Between my legs I ached and burned and was full of him.
I had never felt so entirely awake.
He lifted his head and undid the knot of the tie with careful fingers.
He kissed the red marks on my wrists, one and then the other.
"You did that perfectly," he said quietly.
My eyes stung, and I let them.
He carried me across to the leather couch by the window and wrapped his jacket around me.
On the floor, in the pooled green of my dress, my phone lit up.
Dario saw it before I did.
He reached down, read the screen, and held it out to me without a word.
The message was from Stefano.
What did you do.
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