Chapter Four - Camillo
The woman placing her hand within mine looked like a princess. Like Snow White, her pale skin, ruby red lips, and raven tresses made me ache for her in a way I’d never experienced before. The innocence she exuded through her white lace dress tugged at my body, pulling me toward her like a magnet to her smooth metal gaze. I wanted to devour her and not come up for hours. The way she was silently studying me, debating on whether or not to take my hand, thundered my heart in my chest.
All I needed was her consent and I’d whisk her away into a world she’d never even dreamed of.
She was a natural submissive that much was for sure. The way she held still for my gaze while I studied her was enough to prove that to me. We walked up a back set of stairs that wound to the top of the warehouse, straight into the room that sat across the hallway from my office. I opened the door and ushered her in, leaving the pair clad only in buckles out in the hallway, guarding my door. I watched her take in the room, the darkness of it falling around her pale curves as her hand danced along the thick wooden bedpost she would soon be against.
She turned toward me, her silent stare hooking back onto my lips. I stalked toward her, my movements rooting her in her spot as I reached my finger out gently to touch her cheek. I traced her jawline, feeling the softness of her body against my touch. Then, I trickled my fingertip down her neck, grazing her pulse point as I headed for her chest.
She allowed me unfettered access to the beautiful valley between her breasts before she took in a sharp gasp of air.
I looked up into her face and saw that telltale flush creep across her cheeks. A flush that had given away so many women before her. Except she didn’t try to hide it. She didn’t attempt to fight it.
Nor did she stop my finger from traveling down her body before naturally falling away.
She reminded me of a songbird that would stop in the tree outside my childhood home in Italy. The white bird, with its icy blue eyes, would sing a beautiful song, so clear and innocent. That bird always found a way of lifting my spirits during the worst times of my childhood. The song it sang would sink its talons into my heart, like this woman had somehow sunken hers into me as well.
“In the swamp in secluded recesses, a shy and hidden bird is warbling a song.”
I muttered the line as my eyes slowly grazed back up her body. Her picturesque beauty was something I could never have conjured in my wildest dreams. She was too pure for the sordid surroundings that encompassed her. Too innocent for the devious thoughts that existed in my head.
Her eyes widened as the line fell from my lips and I couldn’t help but be shocked when she responded.
“You read Yeats,” she said.
Even her voice reminded me of the songbird. Light and lilting, with low notes that rounded out such a full and heart-wrenching sound.
My little songbird, displayed to me for the taking.
I nodded. I read Yeats and other famous poets and philosophers as a little boy. Books of poetry were the only ones I had access to, with my father being the control freak that he was. When he enlisted me to hunt down my mother’s killers, the beautiful words would jump off the page, blocking out the horrid shrieks of the men I’d delivered to their maker.
This young woman wasn’t just a pretty face. She was intelligent as well. Her following me would be the best decision she’d made all evening. No man in that room could handle the beauty, grace, and intelligence that encompassed the woman standing before me. No man understood how to strum the strings of a woman who expected so much good from the world around her.
“My friends are out there,” she said.
“They will wait,” I said.
I reached over to the switch on the wall and slowly brightened the dim lighting of the room. She looked around and gasped, taking in the walls and the space that surrounded the bed she’d anchored herself to. I could tell she was staring at the expanse of it all. I’d taken up almost half of the hidden upstairs of this warehouse for my own personal pleasures.
It was like a sound stage with small vignettes. One corner was outfitted as my own personal stone dungeon; another was a sumptuous sitting area with ropes that were hidden beneath the opulent fabrics. There was another area that had a sunken in tub large enough for ten people and beside it was a massive, glass-encased shower. She had already become familiar with the expansive four-poster bed, but the light revealed beside it a sitting area that was designed with a modern black and white motif, complete with leather furnishings.
I watched her while she slowly walked around, taking it all in as the flawlessness of her skin finally broke. Goosebumps were raging across her arms and her stomach, carrying with it a healthy flush I would pull from her time and time again before the night was over.
I could tell she was taking things in for the first time. That everything she was seeing was new for her. She was a true innocent, something that twitched my cock and made it grow beneath my tailored trousers. I’d amused myself with women for years. Women who just wanted a little taste, and women who were so submissive, they wanted to be humiliated. I’d satiate my appetite with them for an evening before casting them out, never fully whetting my palate the way I wanted.
I’d never considered anything serious until this very moment and I knew, then and there, I would seduce her. I wanted her, more than I could stand. Her long legs and her flat, toned stomach. Her supple breasts aching for my lips and her long black hair begging to be wrapped up in my fist.
She turned and looked back at me with curious wonder in her eyes and the undercurrent wafting between us was unmistakable. Her eyes ran down my body, drinking me in, the way I had just done with her, and I couldn’t help the smirk that rose upon my cheeks.
She was wanton and I was ready to make her mine. This woman was special and I intended to treat her as such.
I just had to find out why first.
I walked over to her and held out my hand, silently asking for her consent once again. She took my hand without a second thought, and I slowly led her over to the sitting area by the bed. I held my arm out for her, allowing her to steady herself in her heels as she sat onto the full-leather chair, then I pulled up the ottoman and sat with my back straight.
I rolled my shoulders back and drew in a deep breath, expanding my chest as her eyes took in my every movement.
Then, I asked the one question that would start off a night I would never forget.
“Why are you here?”