Chapter 4

DOMENICO’s POV

I bit back the urge to moan.

My groin aches intensely in my pant, throbbing painfully as my fingers slipping along the smooth, sensitive expanse of her inner thigh.

She shivered, goosebump breaking across her skin as my palm slowly slid away from her inner thigh to cup the firm curve of her bare buttocks.

Fuck!

This was pure torture.

Her skin was electric, hot, and betraying every fierce curse that had just spat from her mouth.

Beneath my dark trousers, my dick was stretched so rigid it felt like steel.

I wanted to tear off that pathetic excuse of a skit, push her legs apart right there on Sandro’s desk, and take what was driving us both insane.

I didn't want to stop.

But across the desk, Sandro’s eyes met mine and he corked me a wink.

A signal that meant it was time to stop.

I sucked in a harsh breath, winding my hand up to deliver a sudden, stinging spank to her backside.

She gasped, her buttock arching backwards as she let out a loud moan.

“That will be all.’’ My voice was cold as I spoke but the arousal in me was piping hot. ‘’You can go back to your room.”

She scrambled off the desk, spinning around to face us, her cheeks flushed a deep, violent crimson and her plush lips quivering slightly.

She looked shock, her hand reaching for the edge of her tiny skirt, frantically trying to drag it downward to cover her exposed legs.

When she found out that was futile, her wide eyes darted between me and my brother, her forehead twisting in confusion.

Alessandro gave her a single, dismissive nod. “Yes. You may go.”

“And this?” Isabella demanded, her hand flying up to clutch the tight silver collar biting into her throat. “Are you leaving this fucking thing on me?”

“Yes.’’ Alessandro replied smoothly, leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed. “I’m sure you know your way back to your room. Go!’’

She stared at us, her eyes throwing sharp daggers. Without saying another word, she stormed out of the study and closed the door behind her with a loud bang.

My legs buckled instantly and I practically collapsed back into my leather armchair, letting out a rough, ragged exhale as I rubbed my face.

Alessandro burst into a low laugh, walking over to pat my shoulder hard. “You’re hard as a fucking rock, Dom.”

“Shut the hell up.’’ I growled, adjusting myself painfully in my pants.

“You’ll get it. Just not now…’’ He muttered, his laughter fading into his usual sharp focus. “Let’s figure out a way to get our money back from that bastard, Conti.’’

I grunted in agreement and dragged my laptop and financial ledger closer.

But as my eyes looked through the paper, so did it unwearily flicker to the screen.

I couldn’t focus…

Couldn’t get my head out of her ass.

Fuck me!

The screen was currently displaying the live GPS ping embedded directly inside the silver alloy of the collar around her neck.

I watched the red dot move down the third-floor corridor.

Left turn.

My brow furrowed.

She was supposed to turn right toward the guest wing.

Now I was overthink things…She’s probably just lost. She’ll figure it out.

I dragged my eyes away from the laptop and focused on the paper instead. But my eyes dragged themselves back to the laptop.

The red dot had crossed the threshold of the west wing's restricted zone—heading straight toward the unmonitored fire exit stairs.

I stood up so fast, my heavy leather chair scraped violently against the floorboards, flipping backward.

Alessandro’s head snapped up, instantly on alert. “What is it?”

My eyes was laced intensely on the laptop.

Hell to the fucking—

“Our little pet is on the run.’’ I growled.

______

We bolted down the corridor, straight for the west wing and caught her just before her fingers touched the push-bar of the secondary service door.

She didn't even have time to scream before Sandro grabbed her by the waist, dragging her back into his chest, while I snatched her wrists.

We didn't take her back to the guest suite. We took her straight to the basement playroom.

Within minutes, she was strapped down flat on her back across the custom leather restraint table, her ankles spread and bound, her wrists secured above her head.

The metallic two-piece offered zero protection. She was completely open, completely exposed, and breathing in frantic, shallow hitches.

Sandro looked pissed, but not as pissed as I was.

‘’The fuck were you trying to do, little pet? Think you’re clever?’‘ He slowly let the cuffs on his hand fall, his jaws ticking. ‘’Time to teach you what the rules is.’’

He turned towards the drawer and pulled out a Vibrator.

Isabella struggled to put her head upwards, her breath coming in ragged gasps. ‘’What the fuck are you going to do to me?! Let me go!’’ She whined, her voice echoing in the quiet room.

Alessandro’s footsteps echoed in the room as he connected the vibrator and pressed it to her clitoris.

A gasp escaped her lips, her head falling back immediately as he legs began to tremble.

‘’W—What are you—ahhh!’’ A suffocating wave of heat hit her immediately, eliciting a moan that tore off the room.

Sandro kept it on her clit for a long while, long enough to have her legs trembling for a climax.

Just before she could, he pulled it away.

‘’Oh, fuck you!’’ She whined, her hand tightening into fist as she grind her teeth.

A large smile broke across my lips as I watched.

Interesting…

What followed next was hours of calculated, agonizing torture.

We didn't penetrate her, didn’t give her the easy relief her body was craving.

Instead, we kept her on the razor-sharp edge of absolute ruin.

I used my mouth against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs while Sandro’s bare fingers stroked her slick, swollen center in agonizingly slow, light circles.

Whenever her hips bucked off the table, whenever her toes curled and a sob of impending climax ripped from her throat, we stopped completely.

“Please...” she finally gasped out after four hours of intense sexual madness.

Her body was slick with sweat, her chest heaving, her eyes wild and completely unraveled.

The defiance in her voice was stripped away, replaced by pure, desperate friction.

Sandro leaned down, hovering his lips over hers while his fingers lightly grazed her drenched entrance, withholding every drop of pressure. “Please what, Bella?”

“Please—” A tear of frustration leaked from the corner of her eye as her hips lifted uselessly against the leather straps, chasing his hand. “Please... don't stop. Give it to me. I'll beg... just please let me come!”

I smirked, tracing a thumb over her trembling bottom lip. “Good girl.”