Last Night 1

Last Night

“You’re Late”

Eliana heard his deep voice resonating through the room before she could even drop her bag onto the nightstand.

The lamp was off, leaving the room cloaked in darkness, but she could recognize that voice anywhere, anytime.

As she moved farther into the room, she made out his silhouette standing at the far end, near the entrance to her en-suite bathroom.

What he was doing there, she didn't know, and those two words were a statement even though they sounded more like a question—a power play, a reminder of who was in charge.

An illusion meant to make her believe she had any power at all.

There was no reason for him to question her when he could get his answers with a snap of his fingers.

He only wanted her to feel as if she had a choice when she had anything but.

“I told you I would be late, didn’t I?”

She flipped on the lamp, and warm light spilled across the room.

It wasn’t particularly bright with the lamp on his side still off and the ceiling light untouched, but it was enough for her to make out his stance.

He leaned against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, smoke billowing from his mouth in slow waves as he took another drag from the hand-rolled joint between his fingers.

The faint scent of weed mixed with his cologne drifted toward her. Eliana traced his clothes with her eyes

A black hoodie covered his head, though strands of dark hair had escaped around the sides and washed jeans that probably cost more than her most expensive skirt.

“You don’t get an opinion on my orders for you. You know that, tesoro.”

He dropped his legs and straightened.

Eliana instinctively backed away. His gaze made her shiver. She always left the AC running, but the goosebumps prickling across her skin had nothing to do with it.

Heat pooled low in her stomach despite the fear.

He crossed the room, prowling toward her. She swallowed and inched backward, though there was nowhere to go. Her pulse thundered.

Not that she could escape him anyway. Like she’d said, it was a power play. Nothing he did for her came from goodwill.

His intentions stemmed from hatred, just as hers did toward him. It was mutual, the hate between them and she was perfectly fine with that.

His love would do her no good either. That would be worse. His hand shot out and caught her arm.

His fingers were warm, firm, pressing into her skin hard enough to leave a mark.

She recoiled, squeezing her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see his face. She could already imagine the smug grin stretching across it, bright as Christmas lights.

“Don’t be scared, tesoro.”

His voice dropped to a whisper as he moved closer. The heat of his body bled into hers.

“You know I won’t hurt you. When have I ever?”

Her breathing quickened. She could feel the brush of his chest against her breasts with every inhale.

“Hmm.” His voice carried a dark amusement. “Maybe when you ask me to. And when I want to.”

His chuckle sent another shiver through her, this one settling between her legs. She shook her head, a whimper escaping her as he pressed closer.

The hard line of his body aligned with hers, and she felt the unmistakable press of his cock against her lower stomach.

She hated the way her body betrayed her whenever he invaded her space. Her mind screamed at her to pull away, but fear rooted her in place.

And worse, a slow, unwanted throb started between her thighs.

“You’re my baby”

His low, sinister laugh made tears gather in her eyes. This was what he had turned her into.

Desperate.

Wanting.

Only for him.

She couldn’t think straight.

Her thoughts tangled until they became nothing but fragments, scrambled by everything he did whenever they were this close.

Her nipples tightened against her bra. She hated that he would notice. Her mind always seemed to abandon her around him.

“Just like I want.” His voice was almost satisfied. “Only for me.”

The sensation made her body tense, and despite herself, her head tipped back. Her eyes fluttered open, tears slipped down her cheek.

A soft, helpless sound left her throat when his free hand settled on her waist, thumb stroking the bare skin just above her waistband.

“Good,” he murmured. “So good. Dolce. Just how I like it.”

He caught the tear before it reached her jaw. She whimpered, her hands hanging uselessly at her sides, fingers itching to grab onto something—anything.

Her clit pulsed once, sharp and traitorous.

Slowly, she lifted one trembling hand and placed it against his head. He immediately knocked it away.

“Don’t touch me.”

But he gets to touch her however he likes!

As though he had heard the thought, his head snapped up. A devious smile tugged at his mouth. He retreated only an inch, and the air between them to tighten.

His gaze flicked toward the bed.

Eliana’s followed.

“Bend over.”

A sob caught in her throat.

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks as she stared at him. The room was dim, but she could see every sharp feature of his face beneath the low light.

The hard line of his jaw.

Those piercing, deep-brown eyes.

He nudged his head toward the bed. She flinched and tried to back away, but there was nowhere left to go.

Her fingers rubbed anxiously over her arms, and she winced when they brushed the place where his hand had been gripping her.

“You don’t have to do this, Cesare.” Her voice cracked. “I’m tired. I really do need to rest. I promise you—”

“You have no right to promise me anything.”

His voice was cold.

“I only want your obedience and submission, Elli. Get that into your skull.”

He stepped closer. She could smell the smoke on his breath now, mixed with something darker, more familiar.

“Now bend over.”

She licked her dried lips and pressed them together. There was no escaping what he had planned. Whatever it was, it would happen whether she wanted it to or not.

This was his playground.

And she was the plaything.

Right now, she was too exhausted to fight. Her thighs felt warm. The space between them was already slick.

All she wanted was to lay her head against her pillow and fall asleep. Instead, Cesare towered over her, waiting for her to defy him so he could punish her and force her submission.

She slowly made her way toward the bed. The light caught the polished footboard as she climbed onto it.

It was a canopy bed, its wooden frame creaking beneath her weight. She knelt on the mattress, tears still slipping down her cheeks, the movement unsteady yet familiar.

Far too familiar.

She leaned forward and lowered her elbows onto the mattress, letting her weight sink into it. Her shoulders slumped.

The position left her open, exposed, the cool air of the room brushing against the backs of her thighs and the damp heat between her legs.

A sob tore from her chest. She stayed there, folded over herself, trying to keep her trembling body upright.

The room fell silent.

Only the sound of her cries filled the darkness. She tucked her head between her arms and squeezed her eyes shut.

Away from him.

Away from the light.

Away from the world.

No sound came from where he stood. For a brief second, she wondered if he had left. She almost lifted her head to look. Then a hand pressed firmly against her back.

Warm. Heavy. Possessive.

Her breath caught.

He was still there.

He was always there; lurking, watching, waiting for her to defy him so he could remind her exactly where she stood.

She had submitted.

She had done what he wanted.

And still, his hand remained on her back, steady and claiming, as if he could feel the way her body continued to respond to him even now.

He couldn’t ever leave.