Vittorio
Vittorio was quickly warming to the melodic sound of Sharon’s laugh. He carried her up the several flights it took to get to his penthouse, her giggles echoing around the musty stairwell as she bounced on his shoulder. The rough concrete stairs felt out of place in a building as nice as this. But that was the nature of New York—beneath all the glimmer and glitz, uncaring dirt and grime.
When they reached the top floor, Vittorio set her back down on her feet. Her wispy blonde hair had begun to sneak free from her braids. She looked flustered but very alive with her flushed cheeks and bright, excited eyes.
His penthouse floor was only be accessible with a key that Vittorio took out of the front pocket of his pants.
“Home sweet home,” he said as the door swung inward, directly into his living room.
Sharon took in a sharp breath. “Oh my god,” she said.
Vittorio tried to look at his home the way she would be seeing it; the sleek white walls, the ornate plush rugs that patterned the rich wood floors, the wall of silver marble that divided the living room and kitchen. He’d grown used to it all, even grown a little bored of it, but Sharon definitely seemed impressed.
“You live here?” she asked, tentatively stepping into the big, open space.
“Some days, yes.” Vittorio said nonchalantly.
He noticed the careful way Sharon walked, how her little feet trod ever so lightly on the floor. Her posture was significantly relaxed compared to when they first met, just an hour before, and he was happy that he’d been able to calm her down. He thought of what she’d told him in the car, about her going to school at NYU and her small-town roots. He decided he definitely made the right choice by buying her. His rare protective instincts had taken over and it had paid off.
Plus, there was something irresistible about the way her full curves swayed with each dainty step. He felt himself stiffening the longer he stared at her.
“Wow!” Sharon gasped. She walked into the living room, with its high ceilings, and openly gawked at the ornate chandelier. Tiny lights dripped from the ceiling on tiny silver strands. The different lengths of the strands created a rippling effect across the ceiling, and made the lights look almost like moving water.
“Where did you ever find something like this?” she asked.
“Came with the house.” He told her honestly.
“Wow,” she repeated. “It’s beautiful.”
But Vittorio was blown away by how beautiful she was, as she stood there, brilliantly lit by a thousand dots of light, gazing up in wonder. Without a bit of makeup on her face, her smooth, porcelain skin glowed and her eyes shone. Her pink lips were full and dewy, her smile revealed a perfect row of glimmering white teeth. He had noticed before how gentle and angelic she looked, but it was brought to a new vibrancy without the fear.
He dropped his eyes to her poor forearms. Still stuck together at waist level, they were crisscrossed with angry red tape burns and the stiff plastic tie pinched and puckered the fair skin. She hadn’t complained, but it looked extremely uncomfortable.
“Let’s get you out of that.” Vittorio kicked his shoes off and made his way to the kitchen.
“Wow, your kitchen looks like it’s made of diamonds!” Sharon commented as she followed him.
Vittorio considered the granite countertop, a sheeny slab of silvery stone that his cleaning lady had polished to a brilliant shine. The floors were done in a strikingly similar shade of silver marble.
Where did I put those dumb scissors? Vittorio thought as he pulled open sleek gray drawers and rooted around inside them.
“Jeez, how many stovetops do you need?” Sharon asked.
She had apparently found his eight burner cook top. “I don’t need all of them. I actually only use one of them when I cook. I think it’s more for the typical penthouse people that do a lot of entertaining.”
“So, you cook, huh?” Sharon said, pondering. “Aren’t you just full of surprises?”
“That smart little mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble if you’re not careful,” Vittorio warned her flirtatiously as he traced a finger across her jaw.
He was starting to relish her sharp little intakes of breath each time he spoke to her provocatively or touched her flushed skin. Her naïveté and inexperience was even sexier than Vittorio imagined it would be.
After looking around in two drawers, Vittorio finally found his scissors on the third try.
“Come here,” he ordered.
Sharon shuffled over to him, extending her bound arms towards him. He slid one slender blade under the rigid tie and squeezed hard on the black plastic handles until the plastic snapped and broke. It clicked softly as it fell to the floor.
Sharon rubbed her forearms. “Thanks.” she said.
“That’s not the way I wanted you to be tied up.”
There it is, he thought as he watched her. As soon as he mentioned tying her up, she flinched and shifted a little, her perfect white teeth chewing gently on that full lower lip. She looked equal parts nervous and excited by his statement and she avoided his gaze like the coy little fox she didn’t know she was.
“You want to tie me up?” Sharon asked, peeking out at him shyly under her light lashes.
“Yes.” he assured her.
He returned her nervous gaze with his hungry one, an intense stare he knew made women weak in the knees. He tossed her zip tie in the trash and the scissors back into the drawer, all without breaking eye contact.
Her chest heaved with a fluttery breath, drawing his focus back down to the homely cups of her sensible yet hideous bra. She filled them out pretty generously and he imagined the two pert, pink little nipples that hid under the oppressive fabric.
He couldn’t wait to free them from their confines, but he had always been one to draw out the tease.
“Would you like a tour of the place?” Vittorio asked her.
“Yeah, uh, sure,” Sharon nodded, still recovering from Vittorio’s vicious flirting.
He really wasn’t being fair to the poor girl, and he loved it.
“Come.” He beckoned, leading her back into the living room, and she did as she was told.
“Is that couch as comfy as it looks?” Sharon walked right past him and Vittorio got a nice eyeful of her ass. It was full, shapely, and had just the right amount of wiggle to it. Her round cheeks greedily swallowed up the stretchy cotton of her heart-speckled panties. She plopped her sweet round butt on his plush white couch and kicked her feet up.
“Oh,” she closed her eyes and sighed. “It is as comfy as it looks!”
Sharon snuggled deeper into the plump cushions and Vittorio felt his pants growing tighter, more constrictive at the sight of her on her back like that. He was really going to enjoy her.
“What?” she asked, all wide-eyed and angel-faced.
“I’m going to ruin you,” he told her darkly.
“Oh,” Sharon said, her face freezing like a startled deer. A pink blush crept back up into her cheeks.
Vittorio smiled. “Not yet, though. First I have to finish showing you around.”
“How much more is there?” Sharon asked, bewildered.
Vittorio wasn’t sure if she was just eager or truly curious. “Plenty more, why?”
“Because I share a two-bedroom apartment with three roommates. My entire home could fit in this living room,” Sharon admitted.
Vittorio nodded. No wonder she seemed so awestruck. He had become so used to living in luxury, he had sort of forgotten that many people would never even experience the level of opulence that he lived in.
“Then this is going to blow you away.” He extended his hand and beckoned her to follow him. She sat up; rocking back and forth against the deep, soft couch before finally putting her feet on the thick, ornate rug lining the floor.
She followed behind him, eyes wide as he led her around the corner to a floor-to-ceiling window wall that led out to his terrace. Through the thick glass, he showed her his infinity pool that seemed to open right out into the New York skyline.
He loved the view; it made him feel like the Don that he was—towering over the city that belonged to him. The rest of the terrace was done up in dark wood, with memory foam loungers and a nicely set table. For the winter, though, the water was drained, and all the furniture had been packed up and stored away.
“It’s really something when the weather gets nice.” He said. “You’ll see this summer.”
“Will I?” Sharon asked him.
Vittorio still hadn’t quite told her that he was going to free her, just that he was going to fuck her. His plan was still to claim her body and let her go, but he was enjoying keeping her guessing.
He shrugged. “Perhaps.” he told her.
Her eyebrows crashed towards each other in a mix of confusion and just a dash of fear. He’d watched her get a little too comfortable after he brought her home; he wanted her back on her toes.
“Well,” Sharon said. “I’m sure it gets really pretty in the summer. I’ll have to get a nicer bikini. My current one is covered in pineapples wearing sunglasses.”
Is she fucking with me too? Vittorio wondered. Suddenly, though, he did want to see her in a silly pineapple-print bikini. He waved the thought away and led her down the hall.
“These are the bedrooms,” he said.
“Bedrooms, as in plural?” Sharon asked. “What do you need them all for? Isn’t it just you?”
“Always good to have extras.”
He pushed open the door to the first bedroom. It was pretty plain. He hadn’t really done much with it since he bought the place. His mother was the family decorator and she was never shy with her disappointment in what she called his “lack of any taste”.
In his opinion, the place was already a little flashy. He didn’t need unused bedrooms done up in the same Victorian-era style that Aria Contarini had preferred.
The walls were the same cool crisp white as they were everywhere. The floor was covered almost corner to corner with a giant yellow-and-white geometric patterned rug. The memory foam mattress was dressed up in plain white sheets.
“This one’s not very exciting,” he commented as Sharon peeked at it under his arm.
He realized then that he had never actually been with a girl so short. Pixie-like little Sharon didn’t even clear his shoulder. She was practically pocket sized. Vittorio found himself wondering what it would be like to pick her up in air while he fucked her. Would she moan? Would she scream? Would she beg him to go faster? Or would she just dig her nails into his back, unable to form a single word?
“Cool rug,” she said as he closed the door and walked down the hall to the next one.
Vittorio pushed open the second door onto a bigger, much nicer bedroom. The bed had high posts that tapered to skinny points as they reached towards the ceiling. The rug was taupe, thick classic shag, and angled mirrors made for an interesting eyepiece from the wall above the bed up and onto the ceiling.
“I bet you’ve seen some interesting things in those mirrors,” Sharon stammered.
That sweet nervousness was back, Vittorio realized. His mind wandered off then, to a fantasy land where he made those pretty blue eyes watch all the dirty things he did to her body.
“You probably can,” he agreed. “But this isn’t where we’re going.”
He closed the door and she followed him to the end of the hallway where there stood two double doors. Vittorio pushed those open and heard Sharon’s sharp intake of breath.
The master bedroom was the size of most New York apartments. It was certainly the size of her apartment. The entire back wall was one giant window that looked directly out to Manhattan. The city sparkled in all its nocturnal glory just beyond the spotless glass, almost as if they could walk right out into it. Unlike the white and silver that made up most of the rest of his place, Vittorio’s bedroom was done up in mostly blacks. It had a very masculine, very dominant feel to it all.
His California King bed sat on a platform, raised above the rest of the room. In the back left corner, sleek, modern leather couches were arranged around a chrome table. He liked to sit there on chilly mornings, have his Scotch alone and answer phone calls.
“Wow,” Sharon said, taking in the giant, seemingly endless room.
“Pretty neat, huh?” His big hands rested on her shoulders and she gasped.
“How do you ever get any sleep?” She asked him quietly. He could smell her nervousness. It was a light scent that went to his head and made him hungry for more.
“Like this,” Vittorio said. He picked up the tiny remote from the top of his impeccably made bed. He pointed it at the very top of the window and clicked a button. Slowly, a wide curtain began to drop from the ceiling with a slight mechanical buzzing. The thick, silky black fabric blocked out all the light as it eventually kissed the floor, leaving the pair in total darkness.
“It’s so dark… I can’t even see you.” Sharon exclaimed.
“Hold on,” Vittorio laughed. He took a few steps toward his master bathroom and flicked on the light in there. A bit of golden light crept into the master bedroom, just enough for him to see Sharon curiously peeking into the bathroom.
“Do you mind if I…?” She started. “I haven’t, um, gone since those guys picked me up.”
“Do what you need to do,” Vittorio told her.
She gave him a grateful expression and excused herself into the bathroom.
If she was impressed by the bedroom, wait until she sees the bathroom, Vittorio thought smugly. He realized it had been a while since he had let a woman come up here. But even then most women weren’t as openly appreciative of his place as this one was. He hated how snooty people could be, how ‘cool’ they felt they always had to play everything. Not Sharon, though. She wore every emotion unfiltered and she wore it beautifully.
Fuck, he realized. I’ll have to be careful with this one.