Claiming The Don’s Daughter Page 9

  She wondered, suddenly, how many other times he’d paid attention to her when she thought they were just hanging out at noisy Sunday gatherings. Was this how he knew her life was a hot mess?

  Thankfully, her mother disappeared, returning with a platter of seasoned steaks. “Carlo or Joey, will you take these out to Al? He’s warming up the grill.” Her mother thrust the plate at Carlo and a glimmer of the familiar routine returned. Men outside to grill the meat. Women gossiping in the kitchen. She trailed her mother and Sophie into the kitchen and pulled out the placemats and napkins to set the table.

  Madison appeared and took them out of her hands. This part, at least, was normal.

  Summer pulled out the plates and made a stack of 12, carrying them into the dining room to join her sister. “So, what’s up with you?” Despite the eight-year difference between the two of them, she and her little sister were fairly close.

  “I met a guy. We lifeguard together at the country club.”

  “Mmm, a life guard. Sounds hot.”

  Her sister giggled.

  “Dad gave him the third degree when he came over and it was totally awkward. Sheesh. How did you handle that?”

  She remembered awkward. She remembered downright uncomfortable. Their father could be a real ass when he wanted to be. She hadn’t even liked to bring John, who she’d been with for two years, over to the house, especially not for Sunday dinners, despite the pressure from her mom.

  “Well, Dad has to meet him, but other than that, try to limit contact.”

  She thought of Carlo, her father’s golden child. How different it would be to be openly dating a man like him—a guy who was part of the family business? John had never guessed her father was mafia, not in the entire time they were together. He was too self-absorbed, she supposed. Other people close to her must know. Maggie never mentioned it, but she wasn’t obtuse. Some of her other friends had made little jokes here and there, almost like they were testing for her reaction. The girls in her Catholic high school had known, but some of their families were in the organization too.

  This line of thought didn’t really matter, because this thing with Carlo wasn’t permanent. It wasn’t a relationship. It was hot sex.

  Okay, smoking hot sex.

  Her nipples tightened, remembering all the things they’d done. And he’d promised so much more.

  * * *

  Summer looked flustered at being at her parents’ house with him. He’d kept her up all night tormenting her body, then left early in the morning for work. He’d written a note with strict instructions to study all day and eat a solid breakfast and lunch, and said he’d meet her here for Sunday dinner.

  As enchanting as he found her blushes, he was going to be in a world of trouble if Don Al noticed. He suspected Dona Teresa, Al’s mother, hadn’t missed a thing. Obviously, if this relationship continued, he’d have to reveal it. But he needed to figure out how to best do so, and do it in his own way.

  He was worried, too, because the coglione Vince had come to drop his money by Carlo’s apartment yesterday while Summer was there, which he hadn’t planned for. He’d told Summer to stay in the bedroom while he met with him, but Vince had been peering past him, like he knew he had a girl in there. Nosy coglione. If he’d noticed her Beamer parked on the street in front, Carlo was fucked.

  When the meal was served, he ended up in a seat across from Summer, which wasn’t ideal because she kept stealing glances at him. Gesù, it was a good thing he had eight years’ practice of not staring at her, because now that he’d had her, his attraction had been magnified a thousand-fold. All he could think about was the way she’d looked spread out underneath him the night before, pulling at her restraints and moaning as he’d whipped her apple-sized breasts rosy with a suede flogger. She’d been on fire for him, her beautiful pussy wet and plump, even after he’d used it four times. Her ass was next. He planned to dedicate an entire week to her anal training.

  As if she knew what he was thinking, her look turned sultry. He jerked when her little socked toes caressed his cock under the table. He covered the movement by adjusting his chair, scooting it closer to the table.

  He should have moved back, out of her reach. He should have frowned and given her a sharp look, but this sexual side of Summer made him weak. The unexpected touch had him harder than a rock, his cock straining against his slacks.

  She kept it up, all through dessert, licking spoonfuls of tiramisu with deliberate displays of her tongue and sensual play of her lips. Her agile little toes stroked along his length, tracing the lines of his cock, rolling and pressing the head against his leg.

  He didn’t dare look at her. His body had flushed with heat as he struggled to get his erection under control before the meal ended and everyone stood up.

  “Thank you, Carmen, this was delicious, as always.” He attempted to distract himself by saying the right things.

  Carmen beamed at him.

  Shit. People were pushing back their chairs, stacking plates to carry to the kitchen. He needed another minute. Or five.

  Summer dropped her foot and stood up with a smirk.

  He swung his focus to Al. This man will kill you if he sees you have a boner for his little princess. There. That helped. He took another two breaths before he pushed back from the table and stood up.

  He carried his plate to the kitchen and handed it to Summer, who looked far too smug. He’d be wiping that smirk right off her face the minute he got her alone. The idea of punishing her put a smile on his face and it must’ve looked as wicked as his thoughts, because Summer’s grin faltered.

  * * *

  Twenty-three minutes.

  That’s how long it took for her to emerge from the kitchen. She walked past the living room, toward the bathroom. Pulling out his phone as if he had a message, he stood up and excused himself.

  He found her lingering in the hall. She must’ve known he’d follow. He grabbed her elbow and steered her into the laundry room and shut the door.

  In a flash, he had her pinned against the wall, her wrists pressed over her head, his fingers pinching one of her nipples through her thin cotton T-shirt. Thrusting one leg between her thighs, he leaned down and hissed in her ear, “Do you know what happens to little girls who tease?”

  She writhed under him at the pain. “What?”

  He yanked her skirt up to her waist and used his foot to shove her feet apart. Bringing the palm of his hand smartly up between her legs, he said, “That’s not the way you answer me.”

  Her cheeks had flushed, eyes dilated and glassy.

  He slapped her pussy again. The gusset of her panties were already damp.

  “No, sir,” she yelped.

  He slipped his fingers inside her panties and found her clit.

  She gasped, bucking against him.

  Another slap between her legs. His teeth nipped her shoulder. “They get their pussies spanked. Hard.”

  She arched into him, lifting her breasts to his face. Her pussy opened to his fingers and he shoved two inside, sawing in and out. He pinched her hardened clit and covered her mouth with his hand as she cried out.

  “You may not come.” He yanked her panties down to her ankles and made her step out of them.

  “What happens if I do?” she gasped.

  “You’ll be punished.” Shoving the wad of lace and silk in her mouth, he slapped open her thighs and spanked her clit.

  She moaned and panted as he slapped her juicy folds again and again. When her cries grew more desperate, he stopped and released her wrists and stepped back.

  “You do not have permission to touch yourself on the way home.” Her face clouded as she realized he wasn’t going to get her off. “Now get in your car and drive straight there. I want to find you naked, on your knees in the corner when I get back or you’ll be in even more trouble than you already are. Got it?” He plucked the panties out of her mouth and tucked them in his pocket.

  Her eyes followed them with a pleading loo
k.

  He shook his head. “No panties for you. And no touching. I need to hear a yes, sir.”

  Her throat worked as she swallowed. She shoved her skirt down and straightened her shirt, looking thoroughly chastised. “Yes, sir.”

  He snatched her up with an arm around her waist and yanked her body into his. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be sore for a week.”

  Her arms came around his neck and she lifted those sweet berry lips for a kiss, lust still swirling in her eyes.

  He nipped her lips instead. “Bad girls don’t get kissed. They get fucked. Hard.” He slapped her ass. “Now get home and prepare yourself for me.”

  * * *

  She’d never been so turned on in her life. Her bare pussy lips rubbed together as she drove, begging to be touched, but she wouldn’t disobey Carlo, even though he’d never know the difference.

  Her emotions were a jumbled mess. Even though it was just a game, his mock anger had her desperate to win his approbation. She truly felt like a very sorry, chastised little girl. If sorry, chastised girls were also one stroke away from an orgasm.

  She used the key he’d given her and let herself into his apartment, breathing in his scent. She’d already come to love the place. Just being there aroused her, making her feel submissive, owned. And cared for. That was the part she couldn’t get over. Carlo Romano was as sweet as he was dominant. In between whipping her with his flogger, eating her pussy, and shoving his cock into her mouth, he’d pushed sips of water and checked her wrist cuffs to make sure they weren’t leaving marks. He’d watched her intently with those hazel eyes, monitoring her reactions, really seeing her.

  She wasn’t sure anyone had ever truly seen her before. Not her parents, who wanted her to fit into an ideal they had for her. Certainly not John, who saw her through shit-colored glasses. Maggie knew her, but not like this. Carlo looked into her very soul... and didn’t find her lacking. His intense gazes were hard to read, but she never sensed condemnation from him, never criticism.

  She stripped out of her clothes and eyed the various corners in the bedroom. She chose the one directly to the right, so he’d have the full view of her when he walked in. Kneeling on the hardwood, she settled her bare cheeks on her feet, her pussy still buzzing from the spanking and her own erotic thoughts.

  The key turned in the lock and she straightened up, folding her hands in her lap and staring at the corner. She listened to Carlo’s footsteps as he entered the bedroom, the sound of him emptying his pockets onto the dresser, the clink of change.

  “You were a very naughty girl tonight, Summer.”

  Her pelvic floor lifted, pussy clenching.

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Don’t lie, bambi. You’re not sorry.” She’d never realized that the terrified little cartoon fawn Bambi had been named “Babe” in Italian.

  Her breasts ached, nipples tight, hardened points.

  “Come to me.”

  She stood up, easing her weight off her swollen foot gently.

  “Your foot is hurting you.” He sat on the bed, his face shadowed in the lamplight.

  She lifted her shoulders. “A little.”

  “No more high heels. No more ignoring the pain. If it’s swelling, you pay attention—put it up, ice it, go see your physical therapist.”

  She wanted him to stop talking about her foot and get back to the good stuff, but to avoid irritating him, she gave a submissive. “Yes, sir.”

  His eyes narrowed as if he knew she was blowing smoke up his ass. “Okay, how’s this—if I see that foot swollen and you not doing something about it, I’m going to take my belt to your ass.”

  “Carl-o,” she protested.

  “I’m serious, cara.” He raised a stern eyebrow.

  This time she did roll her eyes, which was probably not her smartest move. In a flash, she found herself over his lap with his hand crashing down on her ass. Considering her state of need, the pain hardly registered. She lifted her bottom to his hand, squirming and fighting, just to see what he’d do.

  He held her tight against his body, clamping one leg over both hers to lock her in place and slapping her upturned bottom with a steady rhythm. He spanked hard, but in her state of arousal, she didn’t mind.

  She thought she might orgasm from the spanking alone. Her entire body buzzed, pussy quivering. Moisture wet her thighs. If only she could get her fingers…

  Carlo caught her hand and bent it behind her back. “Naughty girl. Did I say you could touch yourself?”

  “Please, Carlo,” she panted. She didn’t want him to stop, she wanted more. She needed release, desperately.

  “What happens if I catch you with a swollen foot?”

  Despite the fact that she wanted him to drop the subject and move onto her pleasure, she argued with him. “That’s not really fair, Carlo. I can’t always drop everything and put my foot up.”

  He slapped the backs of her thighs, which made her yelp, and not in a good way. “Bambi, are you actually arguing with me?”

  “Ow,” she wriggled as he continued to spank. “Well, I just—ow! Okay, no! I’m not arguing. Ouch. Sorry!”

  He stopped spanking her, resting his large hand on her burning ass. “What happens if I catch you with a swollen foot?”

  “I get whipped.” She sounded sulky.

  “I will consider the circumstances.” He brushed her hair from her shoulder and smoothed it away from her face.

  She still sulked, giving him a bit of a boo-boo lip, which seemed to amuse him.

  He patted her ass. “Stand up.”

  She pushed to her feet and rubbed her blazing cheeks.

  “Hold out your hand, palm up, with your fingers spread wide.”

  Curious, she obeyed.

  He scooped up something that jingled from the bed beside him. On each of her fingertips, he laid a single dime, until she balanced five coins. “Put the fingers of your other hand on top, so you’re sandwiching the dimes. Good. Now turn your hands so they’re vertical and lift them above your head. If you drop any of the coins, you lose your turn.”

  “My turn?”

  His grin was devilish. “Yeah, your turn. Now, do it. When I give you an instruction, I expect instant obedience.”

  Oh, the things he said sometimes.

  The task was easier said than done. Keeping the pressure even on the pads of each of her fingertips took concentration. Slowly, she stretched her arms overhead.

  Carlo gripped her waist and moved her back to stand in the center of the bedroom. Already her arms were trembling. He walked a slow circle around her, observing her body with a heavy-lidded gaze. He was still fully dressed, while she stood naked and vulnerable.

  Walking to the dresser, he picked up a little brown bottle and unscrewed the cap.

  She licked her lips, watching.

  He put his fingertip over the top of the bottle and inverted it. “Peppermint oil,” he said, rubbing a circle around her nipple. He repeated the action with the other one, then blew on them. They went cold—a burning cold that made her shift her hips from side to side in frantic need.

  Carlo sank to his knees at her feet. Gripping one ankle, he pulled her feet apart. He brought his thumbs to her labia and spread her wide.

  Her legs and arms trembled with the exertion of holding the position. “What are you doing?”

  “Just looking, bambi. Looking at your beautiful pussy. You have a porn pussy, you know that?”

  She almost lost the dimes as she suppressed a giggle. “What’s a porn pussy?”

  “This. This fucking gorgeous, shaved little pussy that drips for me right now while I watch.”

  It seemed he would never lose the power to make her blush. “Carlo,” she choked.

  He smiled up at her, showing he understood how hard she found it to stay in position. Pulling back the hood of her clitoris, he extended his tongue and gave the sensitive nubbin one quick flick.

  She bucked, barely managing to hold her fingertips together
.

  Carlo repeated the action—just a single cruel flick—enough to send spasms of sensation jolting through her core, but not enough to bring satisfaction.

  “Carlo, please.”

  He smiled again, the leonine smile. “I like it when you beg, principessa.”

  She shivered. Her elbows bent of their own accord and she started to lower her arms.

  Carlo’s look turned disapproving and her arms shot back up toward the sky. “Do not disappoint me, bambi. I expect your complete obedience.”

  “Carlo, I can’t.” But she did. She didn’t know how they’d arrived at this unique configuration of a relationship so suddenly, but here she was, obeying for no other reason than that he’d demanded it.

  Well, that was a lie. She obeyed for a multitude of reasons, and most of them revolved around the insane number of orgasms Carlo could provide.

  To her disappointment, he stood and walked back to the dresser, getting more peppermint oil, which he mixed with something else. When he returned, he stood behind her and grasped her throat, as if he might choke her, but his fingers were gentle. Still, the symbolic position had an effect on her. Fear—the pretend, role-playing kind—shot through her, making her knees buckle so the hand at her throat held her up. Knowing that Carlo was, in fact, a dangerous man only heightened her excitement. Those same strong fingers had probably closed around other throats with genuine threat. Yet she felt completely safe in his hands, her trust in him absolute.

  “Arch your back and show me your ass,” he murmured in her ear.

  She tipped her pelvis back. His fingers, slick with oil, found the crack of her ass. She tightened her cheeks belatedly, realizing he’d just applied the same stinging peppermint oil to her anus. “Carlo…”

  “Are you burning for me, bambi?”

  “Yes... please, Carlo. Please?”

  “Keep begging, cara.”

  She attempted to lower her elbows again, but Carlo caught them. “Did you want the scene to end?”

  Her brain had turned fuzzy. Did he mean he would stop touching her if she dropped the dimes? Because he’d promised punishment before, and that sounded perfect to her at the moment. “No-o?”