Ruthless Mr. Ricco, page 10
part #1 of Brutal Billionaire Bosses Series
I grab his wrist.
“What are you doing?”
I wince at the breathy quality of my voice. Wicked mirth darkens his eyes.
“I’m ensuring my passenger is properly buckled. After your recent luck with cars, I can’t take any chances with your safety,” he says.
Lava bubbles in my core as his deep rumble vibrates through my bones.
“You’re ridiculous,” I breathe.
His eyes dip to my lips as he skims his hand across my lap.
“I’m thorough. Very thorough,” he promises.
Every nerve in my body zings with awareness, but after squeezing my hip and patting my thigh, he takes my purse and closes the passenger door. I will my heart back into my chest as he walks around the front of the car. My mouth waters at his lithe movements.
I will not beg, but I’ve never been so sexually frustrated before, and the bastard has been working me to the bone so by the time I get home every night, I don’t have the energy to masturbate. It’s infuriating.
I peel my gaze off his enticing body as he opens his door and wedges himself behind the wheel.
With the radio playing softly and the windows blocking out the sounds of the late Saturday morning crowd, we sit in a strangely comfortable silence as he pulls away from the curb and navigates through traffic. When he pulls up to the valet stand of a renowned boutique shop, I snap my gaze to his.
He doesn’t even spare me a glance as he grabs my purse, exits the vehicle, and tosses the keys to the valet. I glare up at him when he opens my door and extends his hand for me to take.
When he stares at me, completely unperturbed, I sigh and slip my hand into his. Heat flashes through me when he pulls me to my feet and tucks me against his side with ease.
“Mr. Ricco,” I scold, reminding him of our professional relationship, but he tightens his arm around me and digs his fingers into my hip. Lust steals my voice.
“Trust me, little rabbit, you want to stay close to me today. Just think of this as a perk of overtime,” he murmurs.
“I’m salary. You don’t pay me for overtime,” I snark.
He chuckles. I reach for my purse, but he tosses it onto the passenger seat.
“We’re using my card today. You won’t need this.”
He shuts the door and tugs me across the sidewalk, ignoring my protests. I clamp my teeth together as he hauls me into the fancy shop.
With a few curt words to the saleswoman, he slips a black and gold card across the counter. She perks up and agrees enthusiastically with his demands. I bite the inside of my cheek as she guides us into a lavish changing room.
The moment she sashays out toward the main store, I shove against Matteo’s rock-hard abs and hiss, “What are we doing here? I am not discussing business while you try on clothes.”
“We’re not discussing business.”
“You said this was work related,” I remind him.
“It is. I’m also not the one trying things on,” he says.
His smirk drops my heart into my toes.
“No. No way in hell am I—”
“We have several galas and parties to attend in the upcoming weeks. Your work wardrobe needs an upgrade.” I open my mouth to tell him off, but he cups my bruised arm as though to remind me of every hardship I’ve suffered since he hired me. “You are my employee. Providing you with suitable clothing is my responsibility.” My stomach bottoms out as he threads his fingers into my hair. “And as my woman, you deserve to have the very best. Let me pamper you, little rabbit.”
The longing in my soul steals my breath even as I tell myself not to fall for his trap.
“I’m not your woman,” I argue.
His smirk awakens a throbbing low in my belly.
The saleswoman returns with two other ladies, each one pushing a rack full of items. After staging them beside the couch, all three women disappear without a word.
“Should we start with evening wear or business suits?” Matteo asks.
“No. This isn’t happening.”
He turns to the first rack.
“Let’s start with three of each, then,” he says.
“No, I’m not—”
“Four of each?”
“God, you’re infuriating,” I snarl.
Deciding I should take advantage of his offer of free clothes, I hip check him out of the way, snatch the first three items off rack one and two, then stomp behind the privacy screen in the opposite corner of the room.
After checking for hidden cameras and ensuring there’s no way for him to peek without walking around the partition, I slip the padded silk hangers on the wall hooks and lift my shirt.
“Don’t hesitate to ask if you need help.”
I yelp as Matteo’s voice sounds from beside me, but when I whip my shirt off my head, I realize he’s still on the other side of the screen.
“Don’t you dare!”
“My offer stands, little rabbit,” he chuckles.
“Noted. Go sit on the couch,” I demand.
“Only if you promise to show me each outfit,” he says.
The throaty rumble in his voice arrows straight to my core. I grit my teeth as my arousal dampens my panties.
My threadbare, basic cotton panties. Mortification rolls through me as I recall how faded the floral pattern has become. I bought the variety pack so long ago I already threw away the solid-colored pairs because I’d worn holes in them.
“Fine, now go sit down,” I say through gritted teeth.
When no sound of movement filters through the screen, I peek around the side and confirm his location. With his large frame taking up half the couch, he lifts a brow at me. I duck back behind the partition, unnerved at how silently he moved.
I change into the first outfit and marvel at the buttery soft fabric. The cut of the pantsuit accentuates my curves while remaining comfortable enough for all-day wear. I smooth my hair down and roll my shoulders back before striding out from behind the partition.
Despite my best attempts to ignore him, my senses tune to Matteo’s response. He leans back against the cushions and crosses his arms over his chest. Other than his eyes roaming over me, I don’t know whether to interpret his reaction as good or bad, so I focus on my reflection.
I love it. The color, fit, and style make me feel like a professional powerhouse.
Matteo rises from the couch. The hairs on my nape rise. He stalks to the display shelf built into the wall, selects a few accessories, and strides toward me. The heels hanging from his hooked fingers mock me, but my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth when he drops to a knee in front of me and circles his thick fingers around my ankle. I use the mirror for balance as he replaces my bulky cotton sock with a disposable nylon one and fits the shoe onto my foot.
As he does the same to my other foot, blurry visions flash through my memory.
He wiped my legs clean after I climbed onto the table during our class reunion.
When he caresses my calf through my pants, my throat thickens.
He’s the only one in my adult life who has taken care of me. Despite my harsh words and adamance that we’ll never work, he treats me as though I’m the delicate rabbit he claims I am. He treated my bruised arm, applied cream to my burned face, held my hair back while I vomited, and cleaned my legs when I was too drunk to notice.
I clear my throat as he places my foot on the floor and rises.
The low heel doesn’t disrupt my balance like I feared, and the padded soles add support my regular dress shoes lack.
Shock rolls through me when he closes a necklace around my throat, fastens a bracelet around my wrist, and pulls the ponytail out of my hair. When he closes my fist around the handle of a designer laptop tote, I shove it back toward him, but he turns me toward the mirror and steps away.
Despite my generous salary, I will never be able to afford this outfit if I want to get my revenge in the next decade.
But I look amazing.
Without a word, Matteo takes the bag, jewelry, and shoes.
“Next,” he says as he settles back onto the couch.
The next suit comes with both a pair of pants and a skirt. I hate the cropped blazer, but I pull it on before changing into the pants. A small sound escapes the back of my throat as I realize how deep the pockets are. With wide legs and a high waist, they compliment the blazer so well I change my mind.
When I step in front of the mirror, I can’t reconcile the woman staring back at me with the body I’ve lugged around for twenty-nine years. She’s gorgeous, stylish, and elegant in a take-no-shit way.
I squeak when broad shoulders fill the mirror behind me and jerk in alarm when Matteo slips his hands into the deep pants pockets.
“Fuck, that’s a pretty sound. Make it again,” he murmurs against the well of my shoulder.
My heart pounds against my sternum as he splays his fingers and grabs my upper thighs through the pockets. Warmth pools between my legs as his thumbs brush against my sex. A whimper escapes me.
“Goddamnit, little rabbit. You’re already soaked, aren’t you? You like teasing me, don’t you?”
Pressure builds in my core. I shake my head.
“Unbutton your top,” he growls.
My breath hitches as he shifts his thumbs closer to my clit. Emotions clog my throat even as need pebbles my nipples.
“You may be above begging, but I’m not.” Fissures of pleasure travel up and down my spine as he brushes his lips along my throat as he speaks. “Please, little rabbit, unbutton your shirt and show me those perfect breasts.”
Every reason why I should say no drains from my mind. My fingers tremble as they move to fulfill his wish.
When cool air wafts over my front and the plain white fabric of my bra flashes in the mirror, my sanity returns. I pull the blazer tight around me and fight for oxygen.
Lightning zaps from my clit to my core as Matteo presses his thumb in a slow circle over the sensitive bundle of nerves. I hiss and abandon my top to grab his wrists. He licks up the side of my throat and sucks my earlobe into his mouth.
I gasp and tip dangerously close to losing control.
“Stop, Matteo. I can’t—”
He growls and closes his teeth over my sensitive earlobe. I cling to his wrists and fight for breath as he strokes my clit through the fabric with disastrous accuracy and pops my breasts free of my bra with a single tug upward. His hot palm compresses my peaked nipple as he grabs my breast. The sensation of flesh on flesh scrambles my mind and skyrockets me into a new plane of need.
He flicks his tongue over the trapped shell of my ear before pulling his teeth gently away. The sting travels to my sex, and I ache as my core clenches around nothing.
“Say my name again,” he growls.
I shake my head.
Liquid desire melts my bones as he yanks his hand out of my pocket and unfastens my pants. I gasp as his thick, demanding fingers touch slick, needy flesh.
“Fucking hell, little rabbit, you’re so wet. Say my name again and I’ll let you come all over my fingers,” he rumbles into my ear.
I dig my nails into his wrists and drop my head back against his shoulder. Every inch of me trembles. I’ve never been this aroused before.
The pressure in my belly is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s terrifying. Part of me is scared of what’s on the other side. The other part trusts Matteo enough to follow him into the abyss.
He slips his digits deeper between my legs and groans as liquid honey spills over his hand. When he curls his finger and hits directly over my clit, lightning spears through me. I arch my back. His hard cock grinds against my ass.
He pinches my nipple and nips my ear.
“I-I can’t. I’ve never…”
My courage fails me. His entire body stiffens. He lifts desire-darkened hazel orbs and steals my soul through the mirror.
“You can. Give it to me, Brook. I want all of you.”
A mix of pleading and demand, his words break the dam inside me. I fly apart as he strokes my clit with relentless fingers and twists my nipple.
My insides clench and wetness floods my panties as waves of euphoria crash over me. His name slips from my lips.
Every cell in my body quakes from the aftermath as my orgasm ends.
“Another. Give me another,” he demands.
He doesn’t stop. I squeak and wriggle, but he steps forward, presses me against the mirror, and circles my clit with renewed vigor. My breath fogs the glass.
“Wait, Matteo, I—oh my god, I—”
I shatter into a million pieces as a second full-body orgasm slams into me. My toes curl and lungs seize. The world fades to black. Nothing exists beyond his ruthless fingers and hungry mouth as he nips and sucks along the side of my throat.
I sob his name. He presses a kiss to my jawline and gentles his touch. My senses slowly return.
“I need to taste you,” he murmurs against my temple.
I curl my hands into fists against the mirror as he slips his fingers away from my throbbing sex. His digits glisten with my release.
Visceral delight joins the buzz in my veins as he licks his fingers. His groan vibrates deep into my marrow.
“I want to taste you, too.”
The words slip from my lips without my permission, but lost in the glow of endorphins, I find they’re the truest words I’ve ever spoken.
He pinches my chin and pulls my face up to his.
“Are you sure, little rabbit? I can’t guarantee I won’t lose control. I’m so hard right now.”
The concern marring his brow seals my fate. Despite his desperation, he cares for me.
Logically, I know it makes no sense. He wrung my orgasms from me without permission. In fact, I told him no, but he pushed past my barriers and took what he wanted.
He never would have gotten it otherwise. I never would have said yes to having my first non-self-induced orgasms in a dressing room with my boss, no matter how much I wanted them.
He gave me what I was too scared to ask for.
He’s asking now.
I don’t want to deny myself anymore.
I want more. So much more. I want to give him everything.
I can’t. Not yet. Revenge comes first.
But I can give him the same pleasure he gave me.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I rasp.
He takes my lips in a hot, demanding kiss, and for a little while, nothing exists beyond his dominance.
Not revenge. Not my mother. Not his betrayal eleven years ago.
Fuck, I’m falling for the man who stole my heart in high school only to rip it from my chest and stomp it into the ground before turning his back on me.
It’s going to hurt like hell when he realizes I can’t offer him more than physical pleasure. He’ll have every right to dump me to the curb, unlike my father eleven years ago.
I survived abandonment before and I can do it again.
I hope.
Chapter 12
Matteo Ricco
She groans and accepts my vicious kiss with a submissiveness I never expected from my stubborn little rabbit. When her wicked little tongue wakes and demands I give her more, pride flows through me. I made her come so hard she forgot herself for a few blissful moments.
I yank my face away from hers and wrap my hand around her throat. She presses her ass against my hard cock and shudders. Her breath fogs the mirror.
“Get on your knees and taste me, little rabbit,” I growl against her cheek.
When I step back and spin her around, I use my grip on her breast, avoiding her bruised arm. She follows my lead with little resistance as I thread my fingers into her hair and lower her to her knees. Uncertainty flashes through her eyes as I free my cock, but I brush my leaking tip across the seam of her lips before stroking myself from base to tip.
The pink tip of her tongue darts out. Her pupils dilate and cheeks flush. She digs her nails into my thighs before leaning forward and swiping her tongue up my slit. I moan and tilt my head back only to miss the visual delight of her on her knees, so I firm my resolve and lower my gaze to hers.
She steals my soul as she wraps dainty fingers around my fist, adding an erotic layer to my hand gripping the base of my cock. Her first few licks are tentative, teasing flicks of her tongue until she grows bolder and presses her lips against me.
Magma swirls in my balls and batters at my control.
She leans back, studies my cock for a moment, then lifts hungry eyes to mine.
She owns me. I’ll do anything for her. Anything.
Carnal delight swims in her chocolate orbs and twists her kiss-swollen lips. She leans forward and takes me deep into her mouth with her eyes locked on mine. When she suctions her lips around me and pulls back with an indulgent groan, I lose control.
Her eagerness to please me fulfills my darkest desires.
Lava erupts from my balls, scorches the inside of my shaft, and spurts from my tip. Her squeak of shock vibrates into my spine and coerces a deeper, stronger release from me. I gasp, growl, and snarl as wave after wave of seed bursts from my cock and floods her mouth. She swallows again and again—driving me crazy with the intense sensations of her teeth and tongue—but pearly white fluid escapes from the corner of her mouth and trails down her chin.
I lean forward and rest my forehead on the mirror. She gags and presses against my thighs. I tilt my hips back, brace a forearm against the glass, and pull her up by her hair. She rises and grabs my shirt front as I pin her against the mirror and take her mouth with reverent sweeps of my tongue.
When I pull back, tears shimmer in her eyes and her breath hitches, but lust no longer blurs her focus.
“You’re perfect, Brook,” I murmur.
She peels her fists away from my shirt and clears her throat.
“That was intense,” she says.
I wipe my seed off her chin with my thumb before slipping it into her mouth. She gently closes her teeth and licks my digit clean.
“Fucking hell, you’re trying to kill me. It will always be intense between us,” I vow.
