Page 102 of Breaking Rosalind
With a smirk, he takes off his shirt, leaving me glaring at the toned muscles and tattooed skin of his chest. My gaze lingers on the lines and dips of his torso, taking in his defined six pack.
Cesare Montesano is perfect. At least physically. It’s a shame nature wasted all that physical beauty on a creature so morally depraved.
He unbuckles his belt, pulls down his zipper, and eases down his pants. My breath hitches as he frees his huge, pierced cock, which drips with a bead of precum.
All the moisture leaves my throat, and fresh lust kicks me in the cunt. Heat shoots down to my core, and my pussy grows wetter, coating my inner thighs with arousal.
Squirming on my feet, I squeeze my legs together, trying to create a little friction, but I’m so desensitized from all that teasing that it’s futile.
His gaze sweeps down to my pussy and back up to my eyes. Then he flashes me a cocky grin that makes me want to knock out his perfect, white teeth.
“See something you like, pet?”
“Nothing at all,” I snap.
After toeing off his shoes and kicking them to the corner of the bathroom, he returns to my side and twists a knob on the wall. Two huge shower heads release cascades of water. Warmth pours down onto my head, erasing the grime from days of captivity.
Wetness clings to Cesare’s naked body, making him look even more tantalizing.
“Sure about that?” He pushes on a dispenser, fills his palm with soap, and moves around my back. His large hands stroke my breasts, stoking the flames of my lust. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“You’re deluded.” I flinch away from his touch.
“And you’re in denial,” he replies, his fingers trailing down my belly. “Open your legs.”
“What for?”
“I want to make you come.”
“No,” I snap.
He chuckles. “No?”
Water pours down on our heads, the sound of it muffling his heavy panting. As his fingers travel downward, I hold my breath, hoping they won’t linger, but they reach that tiny groove in my skin that can’t be fixed with laser resurfacing.
Clenching my teeth, I force myself not to shudder as he rubs back and forth along the fourteen-year-old scar, making my heart lurch. He’s going to ask about it, and I need a distraction. Now.
“What’s that?” he asks.
I blurt the only thing that comes to mind. “You know, Leroi might have been a cold-blooded bastard, but he never left me unsatisfied or bored.”
With a snarl, he snatches back his hand and shoves me against the wall, his eyes burning with a fury that borders on insanity. Then he grabs my throat and cuts off my air.
The hot water zaps away some of the tension, but I can still feel the intensity of his glower. I raise my chin, meeting his gaze, refusing to be cowed. I can handle the physical torture and even being choked. For Miranda’s sake and mine, the last thing I need is for this maniac to learn how I got that scar.
“Are you comparing me to my cousin?”
“Difficult not to, considering he was the last man I fucked,” I rasp.
“He has a new woman,” he hisses. “So, don’t talk about him unless you want the gag.”
My lips tighten, and I breathe hard through my flared nostrils. “Don’t forget,” I say through choked breaths. “You’re the one who approached me, knowing my history.”
“Do you want to come or not?” he snarls, his fingers tightening around my neck.
“I’m getting sick of this game,” I say.
“Yes or no.”