Boss (Chianti Kisses #2) (4 page)

I watch her eyes cloud over and hood themselves. She grits her teeth and threatens me through them. “I swear, DiBenedetto, if you don’t come home on time tonight, the only thing you’re gonna be taking off with your teeth is a collection of pink fuzzy pants every night for the rest of your life.”

I smile wickedly and kiss the tip of her nose, accepting her terms. “Seven o’clock.”

She scowls, “Six.”

So she wants to negotiate, huh?

“Six thirty, and make sure it’s the black corset with the fishnet stockings.”

She thinks on it. “Deal.”

~*~

“Just gimme whatcha got, Nick,” I interrupt the tech genius’s most recent apology for not having all the answers I’m demanding.

“Well… the best I was able to do was to disrupt the embedding so that if anything new is uploaded, the site won’t recognize it, and therefore can’t add any more pictures,” he explains to me in layman’s terms. He knows I’m not a fan of all the technological mumbo-jumbo jargon he usually bombards me with.

The passing buildings throughout the car window serve as a dizzying distraction. “I’m sure it’ll only serve to slow them down for a while, but I’ll take it.”

“Wait, it gets better. The next time someone tries to upload a picture, I can try to get a lock on an IP address from where the upload is coming from. That should give me something to work with.”

The situation is suddenly not so bleak.

“OK, Nick. As soon as that happens, I want a heads up,” I inform him.

The call-waiting notification begins to beep obnoxiously through his reply, “You got it, boss.”

Now finished with his update, I turn over to the waiting call. “You’re mighty impatient, Mrs. D.”

“It’s six-eighteen. I’m siting here, in nothing but a black corset, fishnet stockings and sky high black heels. I’m starting to get cold. My pink fuzzy pants are calling to me.”

I smile to myself, “Oh ye of little faith. I still have twelve minutes. And you had better be spread out on that bed, waiting, baby.”

She laughs. “You now have eleven minutes, and I’m thinking I might just get started without you. By the time you get home and have something to eat, I’m going to be bored with waiting. I might as well just go back to work, too, if I’m gonna be cooped up alone all day.”

Here we go. We’ve had conversation after conversation about this. I understand her need to do something, but her job over-utilizes her, over-stresses her, and underpays her. It’s practically slave labor. I’d finally gotten her to agree to take a two month sabbatical while she settles into the house, and I’m holding out serious hope that she’ll decide not to return after the two months are up.

There are plenty of charities and organizations for which she can volunteer that will be much more satisfying and leave her more flexibility for me, for a family.

“V, I have ten minutes left, I’m at the guardhouse now. I’ll be in that room in a matter of minutes. I will have something to eat, but it won’t be food. I can promise you that you won’t be bored, and you are not going back to work right now. Have I addressed all of your points?” I suddenly remember the point I missed. “Oh, and you will NOT touch yourself. Because if you do, I can promise you that I’ll be able to tell.”

I hear her growling from the other end of the line as we head up the drive. “You have eight minutes and then I’m getting started with or without you.”

Click.

I loosen my tie, a combination of fatigue from my afternoon of endless conference calls and the sudden fever taking over my blood from picturing my new wife waiting for me. I open the door myself as soon as we’ve slowed enough to safely exit the car. The driver looks a little surprised as I meet him on the pavers outside the automobile. But he takes it in stride.

“Have a good night, Mr. D.”

I smile to him as I finish working on my tie, “I plan to, Benny. Have a good one.”

The porch lights are on as always, but the house has a different air about it. The main lights are also on, yet the laughter, the voices, are quietly missing from inside. Momma and Nonna’s absence is felt on nights like this when the house is void of the delicious smells emanating from the kitchen and silence falls within the walls.

The dining room table is filled with wrappers and a lively laptop. Carmine sits at the far end, opposite from my usual seat at the head of the table. His eyes are fixed on the screen.

“Hey, boss.”

I eye the sandwich wrappers and step closer to him to be heard without having to shout. “You know, the housekeeper will prepare something for you. You don’t have to eat junk.”

He smirks. “I really missed the deli sandwiches around here. They were my favorite. But hey, boss… I think I found something in one of these pictures.”

He turns the laptop for better viewing just as I step to enter its field of view.

He points to the screen, “Look, right here. In the picture of the airport.” He swipes his fingers on the mouse pad to enlarge the image. “Right there….”

I squint my eyes and lean in to see the reflection of a man with shorter hair from the glass wall in the far right spectrum of the photograph. It’s one of those partition walls separating the ticketing area.

It’s him. Goddamn, it’s the photographer. I turn to Carmine. “It’s a reflection. Can we get a larger image of this?”

He nods, “I think so. I mean, I’m no computer geek, but I think so. Maybe we can get better resolution so we can get some kind of ID on him.”

I smile, this is just the kind of break we need. I take a nearby pen from Carmine’s pile of papers and scribble down an email address.

“Email it to this address. He’s my tech guy. He’ll take it from there.” I slide the piece of paper closer to him.

His fingers come to lif, typing in the designated email and beginning the task. I nod to him, satisfied, but catch a glimpse of the time from the lower right hand corner of the computer screen.

6:33.

Crap.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Vincenza DiBenedetto! Don’t you dare!” I reprimand her as soon as I close the door behind me.

Her eyes fly open from being clenched in ecstasy. Her lip pops out, being freed from being bitten. 

“I told you I would get started without you. I don’t bluff.”

I toss my suit jacket aside, my tie to follow. I start to work on the buttons of my shirt, but my concentration wanes as I take in the sight of her on the bed. She’s followed my every direction… well, except one.

I see her hand reach itself unconsciously back to where it was when I walked in. I harden my stare. “V… don’t test me.”

She giggles.

I finish the last of the buttons on my shirt and toss it aside, along with the undershirt, all the while eying her.

I told her I’d make her pay if she got started without me. And, I’m nothing if not true to my word.

~*~

VINCENZA

“Come here,” he commands me.

My chest breathes heavy, panting heavily from the rush I’d been giving myself. The harshness of his voice stops me in my tracks. I watch him begin to feed the leather of his belt backward through the buckle. I sigh audibly from watching him. His eyes perk up and I know he’s heard me.

“I said, come here, my little Baby V,” he commands once more.

I feel the flush spreading across my chest. “I told you not to call me that anymore.”

He knows I hate that nickname. I’m not a kid anymore, a baby, I’m a grown woman. Hell I’m his wife.
Not
Baby V.

He smirks, “And
I
told
you
to get over here.”

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, the high-heeled stilettos sinking into the plushness of the area rug. I straighten myself and make sure to pump my chest out. A tight-laced corset isn’t the easiest thing to maneuver in, but one thing it’s good for, is to push the girls up. I can feel the mounds of feminine flesh held high, and the exaggerated curves of the crests are pronounced. I see him lick his lips as he stares at them.

I take small, careful steps in his direction, swaying my hips seductively to sweeten the pot. His hands now work in a frenzy, pulling the belt free from the loops and whipping it free. I hear my heels click leaving the carpet behind as I travel the hardness of the wooden floor.

Standing in front of him, I moisten my lips and cock my head to the side.

“What did I tell you
not
to do?” he says sternly.

I straighten my shoulders, hiding any bit of intimidation. I’ve come a long way from our first time, the little virgin in his bed, but he still exudes an air of experience that reminds me of his prowess at times.

Dom dangles the belt from his finger tips, letting the coolness of the leather sway enough to touch my thigh. I swallow, hard.

“Not to get started without you” I reply, defiantly.

He smiles wickedly. “That’s right. And what did you do, you naughty girl?”

I play the innocent little schoolgirl to his strict teacher routine. “I helped myself.”

He nods his head, agreeing with me. He also lets the belt swing higher from the momentum of his wrist, this time landing high enough to wrap around to slap my backside. My eyes snap shut and I groan in surprise. A warmth floods over my skin and a moistness pools below my corset, deep below the hem, at the apex of my thighs.

“You helped yourself,” he reiterates. “Get on your knees, Vincenza.”

I arch my eyebrow in question.
Hmmm. This is getting interesting
. I hear a clap of leather as it once again sneaks around to greet my flesh. It lands immediately next to the spot of its last kiss on my skin.

I take a deep breath to fortify myself and bend my one knee, lowering myself to the harshness of the firm wood below. My head lowers, following a downward trajectory as I position myself into his desired pose. I point my toes behind me and settle back.

My eyes drift up languidly, inspecting each tense muscle as I travel up his body. His eyes hold mine captive. Another kiss of the leather on my skin as it lands in the cleavage of my derriere, delivering a taste of torment to the bits hidden in those depths.

Oh God, he’s driving me mad
.

The leather stays silent, its coolness warming from the proximity of my skin.

“Open your mouth, baby,” he tests me.

I lick my lips to make them more pliable as I open wide. The high pitched buzzing sound excites me as the zipper sings its song. The biggest of the bulging muscles now springs to me, embracing the freedom it’s just been given.

I feel my eyes widen with want. Dom’s strong hand moves to hold himself, circling his fingers around, and directing it to me. He sinks his skin deep inside the hollow vacancy of my mouth, as I coat it with my sensuous lubrication. He withdraws it just as quickly, resting the soft tip in the corner of my mouth, before he slowly traces the circle of my lips. It’s so close, yet tortuously far away. Around, and around, he moves himself, teasing me.

The leather of the strap sets down once more, bringing my skin to life as it begs for the leather’s embrace. I whimper as the exotic assault continues.

“Tell me you’ll listen next time I forbid you to start without me, Vincenza.”

I nod my head, anxious for him to continue reprimanding me.

“Good,” he boasts as he slips himself back into me, slowly. His length sinks deeper and deeper. My eyes widen as his length touches the back of my throat. His eyes watch me intently, eager to see my reaction. I inhale deeply through my nose as a smile plays out on his lips. His free hand snakes back behind my head, holding it immobile and firm, but his fingertips lovingly massage my flesh.

I feel the roundness of his sack press against my chin as he is sheathed completely and thoroughly within my throat.

“Fuck, V,” Dom crows from above, his voice shaking.

I breath through my nose evenly and methodically, unwilling to move even in the slightest to cause a choke. I feel the leather tickle my back lazily as the belt dangles effortlessly in Dom’s weakened hand.

He withdraws himself quickly, leaving me gasping for air. My lips can’t help but contort themselves into a grin of satisfaction as Dom tries to control himself. I feel the leather slip past my skin and hear the thud of the buckle as it meets the floor, having been abandoned so Dom’s hand can partake in greater pleasures.

He reaches down and grabs under my arms, lifting me, hurriedly. His lips find mine and his tongue feverishly seeks refuge where his manhood just had moments before.

His lips work their magic, causing me to wobble on my feet, catching myself in a swoon. His arms are strong holding me upright. He reaches down, one arm stabilizing itself under my lower legs, and lifts my bottom half to lay cradled in his arms. My arms snake around his neck, bringing his mouth deeper into mine.

“You amaze me, V,” he confesses.

I feel his legs lifting, stepping from the puddled suit pants around his ankles, freeing his thick, muscular legs to carry us to the bed where he softly deposits me. He lifts himself, staring down at me laid out before him. I hear a deep guttural growl from within him. I feel his eyes inspect me, inspect the outfit. He devilishly smiles his approval as his eyes sweep the fishnet thigh-highs down the red-soled designer stilettos.

His hand settles on one shoe, high in the air above me, cupping behind the heel. I see hesitation as he plans his next move.

He shakes his head. “No. I think I’ll leave these on.”

My eyes widen in silent question, as he straightens my legs high and spreads them wide. I feel a cold rush of air cooling the torrid flesh of my core as its opening to him. I whimper once again.

He takes the tip of himself and moves it along my edge, up and down, teasing and tempting. My head thrashes from side to side. I feel a warm moistness on my calf as he kisses my skin deep.

“Please, Dom… please,” I verbalize my begging.

The slickness between my legs grows in volume as he slides his flesh around my opening.

“Have you learned your lesson, V?”

A part of me doesn’t want to give him the pleasure of victory, but I know that the greatest prize will be mine.

“Fine. You win. I’ll listen next time,” I say, betraying my feminist convictions and giving in to him.

His massive length pushes deep enough to wrench a cry from my lips. I feel myself clamp around him, his foreplay having done most of the work for him already, to bring me to the precipice. I shake and convulse readily around his shaft but he doesn’t stop. He rides through, selfishly taking his pleasure as I enjoy mine.

The stoic rhythm of his hips and powerful thighs pushes us far into the folds of each other. I feel my boobs bounce freely from the recurrent thrusting, like bouncing bull’s-eyes for my man. His hands hungrily reach for them, massaging and clamping around the sensitive nubs.

I feel another vice of tension begin to coil within and I stretch myself long, my body attempting to control the whirling constrictions taking over. I see the sweat beading on his brow, on his arms, as they greedily work on my chest. His eyes are hungry, the vein in the side of his temple bulging and pulsing at record pace.

I can see the physical signs of his impending release written all over him. His skin is scarlet, his breathing erratic, and his need is unrelenting as his movements continue to try and satisfy his his cravings.

His fingernails trace down as his hands position themselves, bracing himself by holding my thighs firmly. His body begins its steady shaking, his eyes boring into me as his release drains from his body into mine.

My eyes roll back, recovering, as his loud panting fills the room. If this is my punishment for being naughty, I wonder what he has in store for when I’m bitchy bad.

~*~

It’s no easy feat to undo a corset. The laces themselves are borderline barbaric, and pretty damn time-consuming. Finally unraveling the tight stitches, I toss it into the hand-wash bin next the laundry basket in the closet of the vanity area of my bathroom.

“V?” I hear through the running tap water that I’m using to fill the small paper cup in my hand.  “I’m gonna go down and make a sandwich. Should I make you one?”

He enters the marbled bath chamber and joins me, awaiting an answer to his question. I haven’t eaten dinner yet, and I’m sure I can whip up a little something more substantial than sandwiches, even with my limited cooking skills.

“I’ll throw something together in a bit, babe. You don’t need to make a sandwich.” I fumble through my medicine cabinet for the small pastel container of my birth control pills. Once found, I close the mirrored cabinet door and catch Dom’s eyes watching my actions.

I pause.

This has been a topic of contention for us the past few days.

“Are you going to take one?” he asks, his voice light and forceably nonchalant. He’s trying his best to act indifferent to it.

I hold the cold plastic in my hand, part of me wanting to just continue with the motions, just as I have every night for the past year or so. Part of me wants to just take the plunge and make my husband happy. Not that I wouldn’t be happy. But, I’m a lot younger than him. I don't know if I’m ready for all the things he wants, right now.

I bow my head, unable to look at him as I disappoint him once again. “I think so.”

He leans forward, kissing the back of my head. “I’ll be downstairs.”

I close my eyes as his body leaves mine so that he doesn’t have to witness me killing his dream yet again. I hear the bedroom door close with an echoed hollowness. Opening my eyes, I stare at the package in my hands. My fingers blindly maneuver to open it and push the bubbled wrapping to free one of the microscopic pills from the plastic encasement. It drops into my palm and sits there, weighing as heavy as a stone.

Who knew such a small decision could have such big repercussions? I exhale my frustrations. If this was just left to me, a decision solely in my hands, I probably would have put it on the back burner. But I can’t fool myself into thinking that this only affects me. This marriage is a partnership, a two-way street.

My mind isn’t made up either way, and knowing that, I put off taking my pill for a few moments, knowing that I won’t be able to undo it. I throw a pair of purple fuzzy pants on, with matching fuzzy socks and a little white t-shirt.

I carefully pick up the pill, as delicately as a ticking time bomb, and move to join my husband downstairs. I see the light washing out from the kitchen, and I hear the telltale signs of some type of cooking from that direction.

I laugh to myself. I know I can barely cook, but Dom’s skills are far more limited than my own. There’s a good chance we’ll be ordering a pizza tonight.

Almost all of the contents of the refrigerator are displayed on the countertops, as he steps back and assesses his inventory. I clear my voice loud enough for him to turn.

He shrugs his shoulders, smiling, “How about grilled cheese and soup?”