Page 10 of Temptation
My control is slipping, my resolve weakening.
Before the irrational and conflicting emotions—shadowed by the primal desires suddenly boiling inside of me—can get the better of me, I stalk away from the door.
I need to clear my head, take a cold shower. That might calm the storm brewing inside me. I can practically feel the icy water soaking through my skin, extinguishing the flames of desire licking at my control.
By the time I reach my bathroom, I’ve already shed my clothing, leaving a trail from the bedroom door to the shower. My shirt clings to the doorframe, my pants tangled around my ankles in my haste.
I barely register the chill of the tiles beneath my feet as I strip away the last barriers. I turn on the shower and step under the ice-cold stream of water. A gasp escapes my throat as the cold droplets hit my heated skin. I throw my head back and close my eyes, letting the frigid water cascade down my face.
My breath comes in ragged pants, my body straining against the sudden change in temperature. Mentally, I list a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t give in to these building urges that appeared out of nowhere.
She could be responsible for my children nearly being hurt, or worse. She’s vulnerable. She’s under my protection. I’m a monster for even considering it. But those reasons are overshadowed by at least two dozen depraved ways I want to fuck my newest… employee. No, not an employee. The word tastes wrong, even in my mind. Until proven innocent, she’s barely a step above a captive. A beautiful, infuriating, captivating captive.
My hand closes around my rock-hard cock, the flesh scorching against my palm. I start to pump my hand up and down, the motion unceremonious yet desperate. It’s been years since a woman looked at me the way she did. It’s been years since a woman’s touch made me this hard, my erection aching with a longing I can barely contain. Hell, it’s been years since I’ve been touched by a woman at all.Fuck.
When I close my eyes, a vivid picture dances in front of me, seemingly more real than the tile walls surrounding me and the cold stream of water raining down on me.
A sweet, sweet teacher kneels in front of me, her cheeks covered in a rosy blush that matches the pink of her parted lips. Her hazel eyes are wide; pupils dilated as she looks up at me while those rosy lips wrap around the head of my cock. My hands fist the silky strands of her hair, the gentle tugs sending bolts of pleasure through me as I fuck her throat, her moans vibrating against my sensitive flesh until…
With a groan, I come in my hand, the release tearing from me as I lean forward, my forehead resting against the cold tiles.
I watch, dazed, as the remains of my release wash down the drain, but I don’t feel released, not sated in the least. The orgasmonly seems to sharpen my need, my desire. And when I close my eyes again, the images of my sweet little captive aren’t gone. If anything, they become more vivid, more real. I see us in every filthy scenario I can imagine, every taboo act I want to commit. I see her bent over a desk, her skirt up and her panties down. I see her on her knees, my cock in her mouth, and her hands tied behind her back. I see her in my bed, chained down and at my mercy. The images burn themselves into my brain, fueling a hunger that’s gone from craving to starvation.
Four
Sienna
The blinding light of the morning sun pierces through my eyelids, leaving me momentarily disoriented. I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the brightness as I take in the unfamiliar surroundings. Reality crashes down on me quickly. It’s only a few moments before I am thrown back into the ugliness of my truth.
The first thing I notice is the neatly folded pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. They weren’t there last night. And the thought of Fabrizio entering the room while I was asleep weirds me out. Part of me wants to ignore the clothes, but the fact that I’m still wearing the same outfit from a day or two ago makes me feel filthy. Stubbornness and anger give way to a desperate need for a shower and the cleanliness it promises. With a sigh, I climb out of bed, casting one last look of disdain at the clothes before heading to the bathroom.
Wow.
If I thought the bedroom was luxurious, the bathroom is majestic. It’s almost as spacious as the bedroom. The polished marble tiles, a mesmerizing dance of veined whites and grays, are cold under my bare feet as I walk towards the bathtub. Ample natural light pours in through a large, frosted window, highlighting the marble’s beauty.
I turn on the water and watch the bathtub fill with soothing warmth. I skim through the bath additives neatly arranged on the edge—jars of scented salts, bottles of bubble baths, and packets of bath tea. I choose a lavender and vanilla bath salt, the packaging promising stress relief and tranquility. With a flick of my wrist, the crystals dissolve into the water, releasing a calming aroma. Quickly shedding my clothes, I let them fall to the floor before sinking into the hot water. As my body is enveloped in warmth, I feel the tension melting away. For a moment, I am relaxed, as if all my worries have been left on the bathroom floor with my discarded clothes.
The tears come without warning, slipping silently from the corners of my eyes. The salty release of my emotions feels liberating, so I let them fall. I remain in the bathtub, soaking in its warm embrace until I have no more tears to shed. Surprisingly, that moment comes sooner than expected, leaving me feeling spent but strangely relieved.
I wrap myself in a fluffy towel, appreciating its softness against my skin. On my way back to the bedroom, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the large mirror above the vanity. With a chuckle, I notice that at least I don’t look as horrible as I feel.
“Ah!” I jump as I return to the bedroom and find the man responsible for my presence here, standing beside my bed.
His eyes widen for a moment as he takes me in. He straightens, letting his gaze wander from my damp hair to my bare feet and back up. Despite the big fluffy towel covering my body, I feel naked under his burning gaze. His piercing eyesremain fixed on me, stripping me bare in a way that makes my skin prickle with unease. The fact that he stands there, unmoving, undressing me with his eyes, sends a wave of boiling anger coursing through my veins. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears. My face grows hot, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
“Mr. Moretti, have you ever heard of privacy?” I demand, trying to keep my voice steady. I cross my arms over my chest, feeling exposed and vulnerable.
He raises a brow, a smug smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, I know the concept,Ms. Walsh,” he says, his voice dripping with condescension. “Unfortunately, I can’t allow you that luxury while you are here.”
My anger surges, my hands curling into fists. As if it’s not already bad enough that he’s taken me and is keeping me here against my will.
“You are a bastard, do you know that?” I spit out, my voice venomous.
He chuckles, the sound low and menacing. He takes a step toward me, his eyes never leaving mine. “I do, and I assure you, I have been called worse,” he says, his voice filled with amusement.
I take a step back, my heart racing. “What do you want?” I demand.
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. The look on his face and the visible bulge in his pants are answer enough. Whatever he wanted initially, his plans clearly changed the moment he laid eyes on my barely dressed body. I take another step back, clutching the towel to me as if it’s a shield. I promised myself not to show any fear, not to let him get to me. But the intense turmoil of emotions boiling inside me makes it hard to keep myself from shaking. Fear mingles with excitement, anger with lust.
