To Have & to Hurt by Morgan Bridges
Tristano
Violetta stares at me as though I’ve gone insane.
And I can’t disagree with the notion. Why the fuck am I threatening her in such a way? I could’ve said anything that wasn’t sexual in nature. Christ knows I don’t threaten my enemies in such a way.
My behavior has to be due to the fact I haven’t had a lover in months and have yet to take the time to find one. Even with the demand to satisfy my basic needs roaring in my head and the hardening of my cock, Violetta is not a candidate for me to fuck in order to assuage my sexual frustration.
Which brings me to another trail of thought I haven’t pursued.
“How old are you?” I ask. Her silence continues and that’s no surprise. But I don’t miss the way her eyes widen infinitesimally. Just that minuscule action raises my suspicions. “Right,” I say with an exhale to relieve some of my irritation. “I forgot you require ‘yes or no questions.’ Are you eighteen?”
She stares back at me as one does a threat or maybe even an opponent.
The blatant challenge swimming in her gaze has my cock twitching. I’m used to women doing what I say and without hesitation. It’s been this way all my life and I suspect it’s because of many things such as the power I wield from being the head of my family, my need for authority and order, and the personal rules I subject others to. Yet this young woman, who cannot begin to compete with me in terms of power, offers nothing but resistance at every turn.
I want nothing more than to take her over my knee.
The image has my cock doing more than twitching. It hardens to the point of pain and I clench my molars in vexation. While I don’t allow my body to control me, it’s difficult to reconcile my needs and wants.
And I want to do a number of things to Violetta.
Things some people would consider risqué.
I once heard Rafael comment, “There’s no accounting for taste, so I eat what the fuck I want.” Needless to say, he wasn’t referring to food. I adopted his sentiment a long time ago, which is probably the reason not all women find it enjoyable to be my lover. I don’t just push them to their limits and mine, I bend them until I’m teetering on the edge of no return. And if I plummet, I’m taking them with me, damning us both.
I shake my head to clear it of the licentious musings and refocus on the objective of this conversation. “Answer the question. Are you eighteen?”
Violetta slowly nods and a sense of relief washes through me. Although I’m not sure why. It doesn’t matter whether or not if she’s of age, since I can’t fuck her regardless. Perhaps it lessens the inappropriateness of the things I said not a moment ago.
“That will be all.” I jerk my chin toward the couch. “I suggest you rest while you can. It’s been a long night and you have to be exhausted by now.”
She doesn’t acknowledge what I said and rises to her feet, leaving me to stare at the swaying material of her dress as she walks down the narrow aisle. After Violetta sits next to Benito, he leans and whispers something in her ear. Does he think she’ll talk to him? Maybe confide in him?
My blood heats.
What the fuck is Benito saying to her?
I scrutinize her reaction and when it’s nothing more than a blank stare aimed at her lap, I relax. Inwardly I smirk. Violetta isn’t only standoffish with me. However, the longer I’m around her the more I want to provoke her into speaking. It’s an idiotic notion. Why not leave the woman alone and go about my business?
Because she doesn’t conform and it intrigues me, challenges me in a way most people—men and women—don’t.
I drag my gaze away from her to stare out the window. My thoughts are ricocheting in my mind, making my head throb, and I wrestle with the mental chaos until I’m able to subdue it. I learned that by going through each train of thought and straightening it out, there will be a sense of clarity when the exercise is finished.
However, my mind is a damn train wreck.
The possibility of my mother surfacing after all these years has undoubtedly thrown me, but then add the threat to Rafael’s life, plus the responsibility of Violetta? It’s a lot to compartmentalize.
Yet it’s nothing I can’t and won’t overcome. I’ve conquered everything else in my life thus far and see no reason that won’t continue.
The remaining hours on the flight drag and I find myself enjoying the quiet. It’s interrupted every so often when Benito mutters under his breath, but that’s nothing I can’t easily dismiss. What I can’t seem to ignore is Violetta. On numerous occasions I find myself looking in her direction. For what? I can’t answer that.
All I know is it keeps happening.
She’s abandoned the tablet for a pillow and blanket, and curled into a ball with her head resting on the back of the couch. On occasion our eyes will meet, seeing as she’s facing in my direction, and instead of looking away, Violetta meets my gaze. It’s become a silent battle of wills between us.
Me dominating, while waiting for her to submit and offer defeat.
Although she holds my stare longer than most, Violetta ends up averting her gaze. That’s normal. But what snatches my attention is how she does it. Instead of looking to the side or rolling her eyes, she drops her gaze.
This is an act of pure submission.
And nothing entices me more than bringing someone under my authority and teaching them my rules. Thinking about Violetta being that woman has had my cock harder than steel this entire flight.
I consider jacking off in the bathroom, but I’m not a person who gives into the whims of my body. It doesn’t control me. Strict and anal-retentive are the descriptors most people associate with me and they aren’t wrong. I am the master of myself and everything that entails, reigning in a self-control that affects all aspects of my life.
Once again, much to my irritation, I glance at Violetta. This time she’s asleep. Her face is relaxed and the mistrust, as well as the recalcitrance, are gone and leave behind a peaceful expression. She looks angelic and much younger than her eighteen years, which makes my attraction to her that much more inappropriate.
Regardless, I don’t stop myself from admiring the gentle slope of her neck, the long lashes that rest on her skin, and the glossy waves of her brownish-gold hair. Then I lower my gaze to the bodice of her dress and take in the generous swells of her breasts.
Violetta may look young, but she’s definitely proportioned like a woman.
The stewardess comes by, interrupting my perusal, to notify me the plane will be nearing its destination, and shortly after that Octavia appears. She settles into the seat across from me once again and crosses her legs.
“You may not believe me, but I’m just as curious as you to know why you were summoned.”
“I doubt that, señorita. That is the correct term, right?”
She inclines her head. “I’m not married and don’t see the point.”
“On that, we are agreed.” I pause a moment. “How old are you?”
“Señor Silvestri, aren’t you aware it’s rude to ask a woman her age?”
I snort. “You’re an extortionist, not a woman.”
Her grin is both feral and impish. “Why not both?”
“That’s an idea I can support wholeheartedly.”
“Interesting.” At me quirking a brow she says, “You must’ve come across someone like me or you wouldn’t be so quick to agree. You don’t trust women, hm?”
I tilt my head, keeping my expression neutral and my voice flat. “No.”
My mother disappeared when I was ten, and while I don’t have the abandonment issues that plague Rafael from time to time, I can’t say I walked away from that experience unscathed. Women are complicated and I don’t avoid them like Maximus or utilize them like Rafael. To me, women are…a necessary evil.
I need to fuck them and they feel the need to manipulate.
It’s a never-ending cycle.
And it’s the reason I don’t sleep with the same woman twice. Why would I give her the impression she means something when she clearly doesn’t? That’s not fair to her and would only cause problems for me. It’s why I make a point to let anyone know my expectations before I have sex with them. Some women don’t mind when I say that a relationship between us is non-existent and won’t ever become a reality. But when I say the types of things I want to do to them in bed?
Many of them do mind.
“When am I going to meet the individual responsible for all this?” I ask, waving my hand in a circle to indicate the plane.
Octavia shrugs and it sets my teeth on edge. “I’m not sure. Considering the lengths they went through to ensure your arrival, I’d assume sooner rather than later.”
“I’d prefer that.”
“Of course.”
The aircraft descends and its wheels lightly bump the landing strip, before taxiing and then coming to a complete stop. I immediately get to my feet and Benito does the same. A look of understanding passes between us. He’s been with me for many years and I trust him as much as my brothers, which is why words aren’t required. We are not here for anything business related, but that doesn’t mean danger isn’t a factor. He knows to be vigilant at all times and it’ll be the same for me.
I don’t ever let my guard down, even when I’m in my residence. As the authority figure of my family, as well as someone who holds a seat on the Wolf Pack’s council, there’s no shortage of people who’d love to see me dead.
Benito nods once at me and then turns toward Violetta. He leans down to rouse her, his fingers nearly touching her skin when my voice stops him.
“Wait. I’ll do it.”
He straightens and looks at me, as does Octavia. I pointedly ignore both of them. Lowering my voice, I say, “Watch my back.” Then I lightly grasp Violetta’s shoulder and shake it gently. “Signorina, wake up. We’ve arrived.”
She doesn’t do more than scrunch her face in resentment and fails to open her eyes, so I shake her again, repeating myself. Violetta grumbles loudly at me and rolls her shoulder to remove my hold.
After considering my options, I slide my hands underneath Violetta’s petite body and lift her into my arms, blanket and all. Whether or not to carry Violetta to the waiting vehicle outside is not worth fighting over.
Octavia’s men are the first to exit the plane, followed by Octavia, then myself, and the rear is brought up by Benito. The stairs are not a challenge since Violetta hardly weighs a thing and soon we’re all climbing into the idling SUV. Octavia’s men take the front seats, leaving Octavia and Benito to share the middle seats. I take the third row and lay Violetta across the leather seats, positioning her head to rest on my thigh so she can continue sleeping.
“How far is our destination?” I ask, brushing back a curl from Violetta’s cheek.
Octavia doesn’t turn around to answer. “No more than twenty-five minutes.”
After that silence permeates the vehicle and I survey my surroundings, analyzing the demographics, terrain, and any other details that I deem worthy to retain. All the while I stroke Violetta’s hair while she slumbers. In this position her breasts all but spill from the neckline of her dress, teasing me with their curves and soft skin.
I blow out a breath. Bringing her here with me may end up being the worst decision I’ve made in quite some time.
Or ever.