He Gave My Seat to His Sweetheart, So I Went Home and Said My Name novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: On Top

That night I closed the door of his room and turned the key myself.

Massimo stood by the window with his tie loosened and a glass of whiskey he hadn't touched.

He watched me do it.

"You said I could ask you anything," I said.

"I did."

"I'm not going to ask yet."

I crossed the room and took the glass out of his hand and set it on the sill.

"Sit," I said.

He looked at the leather chair behind him.

He looked at me.

Then he sat.

"Good," I said, and the word came out of my mouth in his voice.

Something flared in his eyes, dark and hungry.

I stood between his knees and unbuttoned my cream sweater, button by button, as slowly as I could.

I'd had a whole day to decide how I wanted it.

I wanted to see him wait.

Under the sweater I wore a black bra I had borrowed from the housekeeper's drawer.

He looked at it.

I dropped the sweater on the floor.

I reached behind me and unhooked the bra and let it fall too.

His hands closed on the arms of the chair until the leather creaked.

"Don't touch me," I said.

"Not until I say."

"Marisa."

"Say yes, Marisa."

A pause.

His jaw worked.

"Yes, Marisa," he said.

My whole body flushed hot.

I undid my trousers and stepped out of them and my underwear.

I stood naked in front of the man who had run my family for two years.

He had never once touched me without being asked.

His eyes went over me.

"You didn't touch me the night before I left," I said.

"No."

"I was twenty-two. I stood in your kitchen and I begged you to."

"You were crying."

"I wanted you."

"I know," Massimo said.

His voice was very low.

"I wanted you too. I was told to wait."

"Told by who?"

"Later."

I pushed him back against the chair and put my knees on either side of his hips.

I opened his shirt button by button.

I kissed his throat and his collarbone and the scar across his ribs.

I felt his stomach clench under my lips.

His cock was hard against my thigh through his trousers.

I reached down and freed him.

"Hands behind the chair," I said.

He put them there.

I wrapped my fingers around the thick length of him and stroked slowly, from the base to the head and back down.

He groaned, and his head fell back.

I leaned in and bit his shoulder.

"I thought about this for four years," I said into his skin.

"I thought about you in that kitchen. I thought about how it would feel to be this close, and to have you not be allowed to touch me."

"Fuck," he said.

"Marisa."

"Say please."

His eyes snapped open.

For a moment he hesitated, jaw tight.

Then his expression softened.

"Please," Massimo said.

"Not yet," I said, and I smiled.

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