The Proposition

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Chapter Eight

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Alejandra’s POV.

My legs shake as I lift them and press them against the window. My feet are flat against the cold glass, my knees slightly bent. In a way, I look like I’m in stirrups, about to have a gyno appointment.

I’m totally at Domenico’s mercy. Sprawled on his lap, resting my full weight against him, with my legs wide open for the world to see. Well, not the world, but an unsuspecting gardener would get a hell of a view right now. I take comfort in Domenico’s text; I do not share. He wouldn’t let someone see me like this. Or at least, I bloody hope he wouldn’t.

His hand moves between my legs again. In this position, everything feels more intense. My pussy lips are spread open, giving him full access to my clit. He pushes two fingers inside me again and lines up his palm with my clit. He begins pumping his fingers in out whilst grinding his hand against my sensitive bundle of nerves. I realise that we can see our reflection in the glass like a mirror. I can watch what he does, as can he.

Domenico’s left hand starts working my nipples again, moving between the two, twisting and teasing them until I’m gasping. My hips buck up and down, grinding against him.

“That’s it, gattina,” he murmurs lowly in my ear. “Fuck my fingers, fuck my hand. I want you to take your pleasure. You’ve earned it.”

His words, dirty and sincere, send me over the edge.

“Oh, my God!” I cry out loudly.

My hips take on a life of their own, humping his hand in a desperate attempt to prolong the pleasure. The orgasm knocks me breathless, the pleasure indescribable. I collapse back against his body, my hips finally stilling. He retracts his fingers from inside me and rests his hand over my pussy.

“Are you ready for another, gattina?”

“Another?”

The word falls from my lips in both surprise and excitement. My body is conflicting on whether it can go again, so soon after a bone-shattering climax.

“Yes,” Domenico whispers and takes the opportunity to kiss my cheek. “I want to watch that happen again.”

He moves his hand lower and slips two fingers back inside me. This time, he adds a third to stretch me out. “Come on, Alejandra,” he urges. “Give me another.”

I meet his eyes through the window’s reflection. Something crackles between us, tangible sexual chemistry, and raw attraction. It doesn’t take much. Within a few moments, I’m screaming his name as another orgasm rips through me. Domenico finger-fucks me through it, his hand working fast between my legs.

I pant as I come down from my high. My breasts are heaving up and down with every breath.

“Holy crap,” I mumble, making Domenico chuckle.

He lets me recover and then helps me to my feet. I feel as though my pussy has gone numb with overuse, yet my clit is throbbing between my legs, exhausted with itself.

Domenico hands me my bra and I quickly slip it on. He hands me my dress. I raise an eyebrow but remain silent as I slip it over my head. Whilst I’m smoothing it down, he pockets my thong.

“I’ll be keeping that,” he says with a smirk.

My cheeks flame with a blush, but honestly? I’ve had more embarrassing things happen tonight. Like orgasming twice with your feet against a window and your legs spread open. I wait for Domenico to pull his cock out or order me to my knees, but he doesn’t. He surprises me by closing the distance between us and kissing me.

When he pulls back, I voice my thoughts. “Do you not want me to touch you?”

My question causes him to smile. “Remember that this week is about your pleasure, too, Alejandra. Not just mine,” he tells me. “You will not touch me tonight; it was all about you. I wanted to show you what this week could be like, the pleasure I could make you feel.”

Shit. That was only a preview. It’s only night one. I am so not going to survive the main event.

Like a gentleman who didn’t just finger me to oblivion, he walks me up to my bedroom and kisses me goodnight. I lay in bed, eyes wide but unseeing in the darkness. My body is humming with satiated happiness, all thanks to a Mafia Don and his wicked hands.

Bring on the next week.

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I wake early the next morning, when the sunlight fills the room, even with the curtains closed. I take a shower and dress in jeans and a top. When I check my phone, I see a text from Domenico.

Breakfast in ten minutes?

It was eight minutes ago, oops.

Yes!

I slip my phone into my pocket and go downstairs to find him. He’s in the kitchen, making two omelettes for us.

He smiles when he sees me. “Perfect timing.”

He serves up the omelettes and we take them over to the table to eat. I thought I’d be really shy and embarrassed around him, but I’m actually okay.

“I have an idea,” he proposes. “Do you want to go out this morning? It’s meant to be a hot day and I thought we could go walking in the hills.”

I didn’t think he’d be the kind of man to do that sort of thing. I know that sounds judgemental, but I honestly can’t imagine him hiking. He looks like he should always be in a suit, maybe gym attire sometimes.

“That sounds great,” I reply.

I’m going to need as much exercise as I can get, what with all this Italian food I’ll be eating.

After we’ve finished, I go upstairs and change into leggings for more room and my trainers. When I come down, Domenico is waiting by the door with two bodyguards. They drive us up to the hills and park up in one of the gravel car parks. There’s only two other cars here, so we’ll probably have the trail to ourselves, mostly.

“They’ll stay behind,” Domenico tells me, gesturing to the bodyguards.

He has a gun tucked into the back of his shorts; I can see the lump under the fabric.

Who takes a gun on a hike?

“Do you trust me?” He asks randomly as we start walking in the sunshine.

“I must do, if I’ve come out to the hills alone with you,” I reply jokingly.

His lips quirk up in a smile. “Good. I would hope so, after last night.”

At the mention of our orgasmic window encounter, my cheeks warm up. Luckily, we’re doing exercise and it’s a hot day. It would be strange if my cheeks weren’t flushed.

“I want to take you to Italy,” he says calmly, and I nearly lose my footing.

“Pardon?”

“I told you that I would take you on holiday if you wanted. You admitted yourself that you trust me now, so I want to take you to Italy. I have a villa that we will stay in for the week.”

“We can’t get a flight this last minute, can we?” I ask, desperately trying to think of reasons why this is a bad idea.

Domenico throws his head back and laughs. The sound echoes across the hills. “I have my own plane, gattina,” he replies amusedly. “We’ll be there in about two hours.”

My eyes widen.

Holy shit.

He stops walking and puts his hands on his hips. “So? What do you say?”

I stop, too, and try to think of a good reason.

-Money (something tells me, he’s paying)

-Trust (I think we’ve already crossed that line)

-Work (I’ve taken the week off)

Shit.There must be more than that?

I can’t get my brain to work, I’m too surprised, too caught off-guard.

What would Hanna say?Hell-fucking-yes. Free holiday.

“I’ll need my passport.”

Domenico grins. “Not a problem, we’ll stop by your house on the way to the airport. If we go back and pack now, we can arrive in time for an evening meal.”

Holy crap, I’m off to Italy!

We’ve barely spent ten minutes on the trail, before we’re re-tracing our steps and returning to the vehicle. If the bodyguards are surprised about how short our walk was, they don’t show it.

My excitement builds as we get into the car. I have never done something this impulsively before. In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve been more daring than I have my entire life. We return to the house, and I pack my suitcase again. A little annoying, considering that I only unpacked last night, but Italy is worth it.

Domenico meets me downstairs, a small suitcase by his feet. I imagine he has a lot of his things over in Italy, too. We drive to my flat first. Domenico is on the phone, making sure everything will be ready with his flight crew and that we have a slot on the runway.

I run into my flat, grab my passport and lock up. When I get back into the car, Domenico is still on the phone. I take out my phone and call Hanna.

“You are the luckiest girl in the world!” She shouts down the phone. I subtly press the lower volume button. “If you weren’t my best friend, I would totally hate you.”

“Thanks, Han.”

She giggles. “It’s okay! Promise to send me loads of pictures? FaceTime me if you can! I’m going to be stuck here so I have to live vicariously through you.”

“I promise.”

We get to the small airport, and we’re taken through a private security area. Once our bags are loaded onto the plane, there’s a twenty minute wait whilst it is checked and prepared for us. Domenico takes my hand and leads me outside, where the wind is whipping across the open area. The plane is small and sleek. I climb up the metal steps and my heart thumps wildly as I step inside.

It dawns on me that my life has just become a real-life re-enactment of 365 DNI. I’m living the movie. Ew. Let’s hope Domenico doesn’t plan on being sucked off by the stewardess in front of me.

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