I leave the dining room and spot that flash of red as she turns a corner into a dark room. Following her quietly, I slip into the room behind her and find her standing next to the curtain, her hands against the wall, her shoulders shaking.
“Allow me to walk to your car, principessa,” I say softly into the dark room.
She spins around, her eyes flashing at me, her hands up as though she's going to claw my eyes out. For some reason, I'm excited about the idea. I reach out, snapping her elbows down to her sides and holding her still as she thrashes back and forth. “Oh, you think you can fight me? You must be insane. We like insane.”
“Get your hands off me!” she hisses.
I hold her still, careful not to bruise or hurt her in any way. You have to be cautious with someone so delicate, they can break so easily. And I don't want to break her, I just don't want her leaving scratch marks across my skin that her father will notice when I go back to the dining room.
“Let me go! Let me go!”
“Keep struggling, Marie,” I say, drawing her close enough that I can smell the sweat at the base of her neck. She snaps her teeth at me like she's going to bite me. “Keep struggling. I like it.”
“You're disgusting,” she hisses.
I nod and shrug. “So I'm disgusting, so what? We still own you, Marie. You understand that?”
“You don't own anything,” she snarls. “When Daddy finds out how your… What you just said —”
“And then what? What do you think will change?”
“He’ll… He’ll…” she sputters, searching for words and thrashing back and forth every time I ease up even a little. “He’ll call it off!”
I roll my eyes, though I don’t think she can see me in the dark. “He won’t, and I’m afraid you already know that,” I explain gently.
“This is… This is insane!”
“Yes,” I agree with a laugh. “Isn’t it?”
“Let me go!” she hisses, twisting and struggling all over again. I pull her toward me to suppress her thrashing, though now she’s rolling her backside back and forth over my cock again and I’m getting hard enough to poke through the top of my trousers.
I sort of wish she’d been like this last night instead of so pliable, so wanting. A little resistance can be fun too.
“I can’t let you go, Princess!” I chuckle. “You were given to us, fair and square as you say.”
“Us?” she repeats, aghast. “What do you mean... us?”
“Oh I think you know,” I murmur in her ear.
Pausing for a moment, her breath finally comes out in a long, whimpering sigh. “No,” she whispers. “No, Alek. That’s not possible. No!”
I shrug, relishing the way her pulse throbs against my fingertips. She feels so alive in my hands, like I can see through her to her heart. Strangely, I want to cage her against me, to preserve this vivid, throbbing sensation.
“But, it is possible. Your father may not realize it, but Roman and I… well, we share everything, of course.”
“No!” she insists, though I can hear the conviction in her voice faltering. “He’ll never agree to it! When Daddy finds out—”
“— When your daddy finds out what kind of real girl you really are?” I tease. I release her and she backs away, facing me with her hands out and searching like she wants something to grasp. Even in the darkness, I can see her panting, her skin flushed and shiny. To tell the truth, I like her like this. I'd heard about Italian girls being fiery, and apparently this is the truth.
“Go on, tell him,” she snarls. "I dare you. He would never believe you anyway.”
Clucking my tongue, I have to shake my head. “What a little princess you are. Look at you, I bet you never fought for anything your whole life, right? What a spoiled brat! You should learn some manners.”
Her mouth drops open, forming that perfect O again. I really like it when she does that, and my cock jumps in my pants. I'd love to get my dick between those lips, if only to shut her up for a minute.
“You don't know anything about me!”
“I know everything I need to know, Princess,” I say, coming close to her again. She's breathing so fast that the front of her dress brushes against my chest every time she inhales. She's trembling, sure, but she's not running away. Not yet.
“I hate you,” she breathed.
“Well I own you,” I remind her, whispering it right into her ear. I can hear her heartbeat almost, that salty fear smell.
She's like a rabbit or some other frightened small animal. And yet, she hasn't run away. That's intriguing. Even here, standing right in front of her where she should be terrified, and probably is, she's either too brave or too stupid to simply run.