There was no way that she would give herself to him but he was a fool. The type of fool that wold touch her just to laugh at me like it was a joke.
Turning to the bathroom door my rage amplifies as the knob turns out to be locked.
Locked out in my own house.
My foot comes up, kicking twice before the door splinters and opens, my shoulder pressing into it as I find Ilaria in a bathtub looking at me like I’ve done something to annoy her.
“Calm down on the steroids, Kool Aid man.”
Looking at her, all those curls piled up on her head, just her shoulder showing with bubbles nearly spilling over onto the marble floor. She looks like an angel despite acting like a devil.
I want to calm down.
I don’t want Ilaria to see me when I’m this angry.
I’m aware that I’ve lost control and need to figure out a way for her to not see the destruction of our bedroom. Despite her being the one to push me and try to get me to lose my cool I’m still the one in control of my reactions. And I’m aware that my reaction might scare her if she sees it.
But Ilaria doesn’t have the same self preservation as I do.
It’s like she’s back in my office, pushing her throat deeper into my hand all over again, challenging me to do my worst and not caring if she is the one at the wrong end of it.
“You caught me mid-fantasy about your cousin. Do you want to watch me touch myself thinking of him? Do you want to hear the way his name sounds on my lips when I come in your bath?”
Santa Maria.
She brought this on herself.
Ilaria’s throats in my hand as I pick her up from the bath, watching the way her eyes widen in shock. Her hands grab at my arm as she is pulled up, all her weight in my palm as she kicks at me, unable to breathe as she drips all over the floor.
All those bubbles covering her skin dripping off and revealing my pretty fiancée.
The way her lips try sucking in air without any luck, eyes wide as if she realizes too late that she has pushed me too far.
I should squeeze her, scare her into obedience because, for once, she seems to realize that mouth of her is trouble.
Instead, realization of how much of a brute I’m being hits me and my hands open as Ilaria falls, splashing the water over the edge of the tub as she gasps for air, looking at me with her eyes wide in anger from what I’ve done.
“Ilaria, I-”
“You are a son of a bitch!” she flails her arms at me, splashing me as I look at her thinking about how I had lost control.
How could I have been foolish enough to lose control?
“Did Francesco touch you?” It comes out instead of are you okay like I should have said and I’m aware of how bad it sounds.
But Ilaria leans back, her naked body slipping under the water, her body vanishing under the bubbles once again. She’s furious at me but she is more in control than I am.
I’m a wild beast and she’s the zoo keeper.
She’s back to playing games
“After you try to kill me because you are a brute who had a temper tantrum you want me to tell you about how Francesco touched me? Feels real safe, Demon.”
“I’m just going to kill him.”
I turn storming from the room, moving into my dresser so she can see me pull out a gun. Let her think about what she is doing, what she is getting him into with what she is saying.
I want Ilaria to feel guilty enough to apologize but she doesn’t.
“Don’t hurt his face. I won’t have a place to sit.”
My hands slam down on the dresser giving her exactly the reaction that she wanted from the smug look that she is wearing. And because of who Ilaria is and the power she wields she stands from the tub, stretching up like a cat waking from a nap. All leisure and slow pleasure oozing from her.
She’s all wet skin and temptation.
My handprint around her throat which she uses a hand to touch before running it up over her neck, as if she’s remembering the feeling of my fingers on her skin. She doesn’t look so worried about the fact I held her up by her neck as she pulled her hair free letting her curls roll over her shoulders.
And her eyes are on me.
“Princess.”
It’s a warning because I still want to ring her neck but she’s making my cock jump with the way she’s standing, holding out a hand as if asking me to come to her.
And like a golden retriever I respond to the ‘here boy’ command. I’m offering her a hand, helping her out of the tub a I wrap her up in a towel. My eyes are on her as she looks at me like she knows she is giving in to something she had been fighting against.
“Princess.”
“Principessa. I’m your principessa, Dante.”
