Angelo

It took me a long time to go up to bed after Rosalia walked out of the office.


I didn't trust myself not to go to her room. She wanted me—I could feel it in every trembling line of her body, the way she shuddered when I touched her hip. I saw how wet she was, and it made me feel half-insane.

I can't want her. I can't have her. I shouldn't. But it's harder and harder each day when she makes it so clear that she wants to break my resolve, and my only defenses are my own principles and my belief that she's not thinking clearly. That later—much later—when she could, she would regret the choice.

Instead, I'm relegated to another night of self-pleasure in my office before I even dare head upstairs. It's almost more frustrating than pleasurable at this point—more of a necessity than something I'm actually enjoying. But I can't justify leaving Rosalia alone here, even with security, to go out and find someone to pass an evening with—I'd never be able to live with myself if something happened to her because I wanted to go out and get laid. And more than that, though I don't want to admit it, no one else would give me what I want. No one else would beher, and I'm beginning to feel consumed with what feels like a forbidden desire for her and her alone.


Once she's married, it will be different,I remind myself.She'll be even more off-limits then, and you can go back to New York. Time and distance will fix it, and the desire will fade.But at the present moment, sitting in the dark of my office with my fist around my cock and the memory of Rosalia moaning when I slipped and saidgood girl, it doesn't feel like it will fade.

It feels like it's only going to get so much worse.


I don't feel much better in the morning. I slept restlessly, my dreams full of Rosalia in lewd, erotic positions that leave me hard as a rock and flooded with guilt when I wake, my hand resignedly wrapping around myself again to ease the frustrated arousal before I get up and start my day.

I haven't come in my own hand so much since I was a fucking teenager, I think, with no little resentment—towards myself and my lack of control over my own desire, not her—as I dress and head downstairs to breakfast. Rosalia is already at the table, wearing a prim, ruffled-front white blouse that makes her look all the more innocent, even though she's wearing a bit more makeup than usual and a rosy lipstick that accentuates the fullness of her mouth, and instantly makes me think about the possibility of having it wrapped around my cock.

Breakfast is silent. She picks at her food as usual, but I can't make myself instruct her to eat more. I'm beginning to see more and more that she's aroused by my authority, by being told what to do and then praised for it, and that's all the more dangerous for me. It makes her all the more perfect for what I would want, if—

No. There is noif.I repeat that to myself until I can retreat to my office, drawing the curtains so there's no chance of glimpsing her out at the pool in her bikini again, and I have lunch brought to my desk. I work through dinner, hoping to put enough space between us that the memory of last night can fade a little, but an hour or so after dinner, I hear a knock at the office door.

I let out a slow sigh, knowing who it is. I could ignore it—ignoreher, but that would almost certainly cause more problems than it would fix. 'Come in," I finally call out, swiveling a little in my chair to face the door as Rosalia steps in, still wearing the wide-legged black dress pants and ruffled shirt she had on this morning.

It doesn't stop me from remembering how beautiful she looked, how perfect, leaned over my desk in her evening dress with the silk bunched in her fist, her bare ass reddened and on display for me.

That was a punishment,I remind myself.Not one for play, either. Arealpunishment. Not for your arousal or hers, regardless of the result.

'Is there something you need?" I try to keep my tone as distant and formal as I can, try to ignore the way that she shifts when she sits down in the leather chair across from my desk, reminding me how tender and sore her ass must be and why.

'I know you're going to argue with me," Rosalia says softly, and I see that stubborn set to her jaw that tells me she has something in mind, and she wants me to listen. 'But I think you're being foolish."

'Oh?" I frown at her. 'I'm not sure I appreciate your tone. Did you already forget last night's lesson?" I keep my voice hard, cold, even though it's difficult with her. I want her to remember it as a punishment, not as something she enjoyed. Because if she does—

'That's exactly my point." Her chin tips up a little, and I see the quick flutter of her pulse in her throat, a light flush spreading across her neck. If I unzipped her trousers right now, slipped my fingers inside, and touched her panties, they'd be damp. I know they would be, and the thought of it makes my cock twitch eagerly despite myself. 'As embarrassed as I was—I had a certain…reactionto it. I don't really understand it, not yet, but you could teach me. And I think you want that. Iknowit affected you the same way, too. You just don't want to admit it."

The last is said defiantly, as if she's daring me to try to tell her otherwise. If I did, it would be a lie. I don't want to lie to her, but neither do I want to agree with her that I'm turned on by what happened last night, and make her point for her.

'It doesn't matter," I finally tell her, settling on that. 'You need to focus on who it is that you want to choose to—"

'That's mypoint." Rosalia cuts me off, and there's a light in her eyes that's daring me to punish her again for it. I feel that aching twitch in my groin again, and I cling to my self-control with everything I have.

Not only does she crave what you do, but she's also a bit of a brat on top of it.It's as if she were made for my desires, and innocent as she is, I could teach her to understand those desires even more, to be as perfect for me as I could possibly want.

If only I could do that and still live with myself afterward.

'Why am I marrying someone else?" Her tone turns demanding, her eyes narrowed. 'I know you keep saying I'm too young—but what if I don't want to marry someone who's basically a boy? Someone who will try to mimic what he thinks a man is by controlling me? Someone who doesn't know how to please me—" She bites her lip, her lashes fluttering down in a way that I don't think is intentionally seductive, but makes me ache all over nonetheless. 'And you can't keep saying it's because we're technically stepsiblings. That's bullshit, and you know it—"

'Rosalia." I cut her off. 'I should punish you just for speaking to me that way. You need to learn manners—"

'Do it." There's that stubborn light in her eyes again, and a glimmer of heat there, too. 'I'll enjoy it, though. I enjoyed it last night. And when I went upstairs—"

'Enough!" I slap my hand down on my desk, startling her. If she tells me what she did when she went upstairs, how she might have touched herself—I won't be able to stand it. I'll bend her over the desk and take her in ways not only inappropriate for our relationship, but for how she should lose her virginity, too. 'Rosalia, all of that aside, the answer is still no."

'Why?" There's that hint of a pout again. 'This doesn't make sense—"

I grit my teeth. 'Because what I would want from a wife—the things that would keep me satisfied enough to not stray from a woman's bed, the way you want…those are things I shouldn't ask of you. That I shouldn't teach you."

'What things?"She glares at me. 'How can you decide for me that I wouldn't want it? You don't know what I think about. What I'm curious about. You don't know how I felt last night while you—"

'I do." My jaw hurts from how tightly it's clenched. 'I know exactly how you felt. And I refuse to take advantage of those desires to turn you into what I would want. It would be easy, Rosalia, but I'm not sure it would be your choice. And I—"

'You can't know that." She swallows hard, and she's beginning to look defeated. It should make me feel relieved, but it doesn't.

'You need to let this go, Rosalia. I've made my decision. I'm sorry if you're not happy with the choices laid out in front of you, but I'm doing my best to ensure that you have a choice at all. Rizzo would have you married to Andre Romano, and I know that's not what you want. It's not what I want for you. So instead—"

I try to ignore the aching in my groin, shuffling through the papers that I've been looking at instead, attempting to turn the conversation in a different direction. 'I've organized a list of individual dates for you with the candidates, based on who I think you were most compatible with, but if you don't agree with my observations—"

It's hard to even say it. I hate the thought of her with any of these men, the idea that any of them might be allowed to touch her. I think of her soft, breathy moan last night, and want to strangle the life out of any other man who managed to drag that sound from her pretty lips.

Rosalia is quiet for a long moment. She looks at the sheet pensively, and I can see that she's thinking of something. I'm half-afraid to ask what.

'Fine," she says at last. 'I don't care what order you put them in—Carlos and the Graziano brothers were the least offensive of the bunch, but I don't want to marry any of them. And Ineverwant to see Andre again, if I can help it. But if I don't fight you on this, and if I agree to never bring up you marrying me instead again, you have to do something for me."

Her tone is so absolutely serious that I stare at her for a moment, half disbelieving. 'Rosalia, this isn't up for discussion—"

Her chin tilts up again. 'It is," she says flatly. 'Because you can make me do this, but I can make it miserable for us both. I can make it infuriating. Any of them will still marry me, because they don't wantme; they want the money and influence that comes with making me their wife. You can punish me again for it, but I don't think you will because I enjoy it, and you're too afraid to lose control—"

'Rosalia." My patience is wearing thin, and while she's technically right, that doesn't mean I'm enjoying being lectured by a girl who is meant to bemyward. 'What is it that you want?"

'I want what you promised me." Her eyes don't leave mine for a second, even as her cheeks flush, and I can see that flutter of her pulse beating harder in her throat. 'I want another lesson. But I want you toshowme."

My own heart thuds in my chest, my cock twitching with renewed and entirely inappropriate interest. 'What do you mean?" I ask carefully, but I suspect I already know.

'I want to see how you touch yourself." Her face is flushed, but to her credit, she doesn't flinch, even though I can tell she's embarrassed. 'I want you to show me howyouwould want to be touched. The places that feel good. I want you to show me how I would touch my husband, enough that I'll know exactly how to please him. So I can make him feel good enough that he'll want to please me, too." Her lips press tightly together. 'I don't want to just lie there and pretend that I like it. I want it to begood. So show me what men like. Show me whatyouwould like."

God. It feels as if I can't spend even a few moments in her presence without being so turned on that it's nearly painful. The prospect of what she's asking is both alluring and something that I know that I should not, without a doubt, agree to.

'Whoever you marry, they wouldn't be happy to know that I—"

'They won't know." Rosalia glares at me stubbornly. 'You're not going to touchme, Angelo. You're not going to damage my precious innocence in any way." There's a sarcastic tone in her voice that makes me want to get up, pull her into my lap, and damage that innocence in so many different ways, after I've reddened her ass for the way she's spoken to me since she walked in. 'You're just going to demonstrate. I won't touch you, either. I'll still be just aspureas any of those boys could possibly want—but with a little more knowledge."

Deep down, I know my acquiescence is less because I think her argument is sound and more because the idea of jerking off in front of Rosalia, even if it's still only my hand pleasuring myself, sounds so much better than the lonely pleasure I'm going to indulge in after she leaves otherwise. Because it turns me on, because I want it, and because fighting my own desires has become utterly exhausting, even if I know this is one more step down a slippery slope that could send us both tumbling into something we can't take back.

'If I agree," I say slowly, 'you won't bring up marriage between us again? This will be the last conversation we have about it?"

Rosalia nods. I don't know if she's agreeing because she knows it's a lost cause, or because she is hoping that what she's proposed will turn into something else—something more like what she wants—but either way, it would mean not having to fight her on this.

'If you're lying to me—" I pause. 'If you don't keep your word, Rosalia, I will choose someone for you. Immediately. You will have no more say in the matter. Is that understood?"

She nods again, more slowly this time. I can see the light quiver in her lower lip and the anticipation in her face. 'I understand," she whispers softly.

'I mean it." I need her to understand, unequivocally, that I do. 'Thatwillbe the consequence."

'I know." She bites her lip. 'Here? Do you want to—"

Her eagerness is more arousing than it should be. 'No." I shake my head. If I'm going to demonstrate this to Rosalia, it's not going to be in my office.Especiallynot here, where I can remember seeing her bent over my desk so prettily. 'We'll go up to the library again."

It should feel awkward when I meet her up there. Itshouldfeel uncomfortable, shifting the wing chair so that I'm facing her as she curls up on the chaise again, watching me with a curious, frank interest in her eyes that almost makes me feel as if I'm on display. It should all be uncomfortable.

But instead, I'm already half-hard. This feeds into my desires so perfectly, this role of teaching her, showing her exactly where I would want to be touched, licked, sucked by her pretty mouth. If she were mine, this lesson would go very differently.

But she's not, I remind myself as I sink into the chair, facing her.

'Are you going to take your clothes off?" Rosalia's eyes sparkle with teasing mischief, and I glare at her, trying not to think about the idea that shewantsto see me naked.

'No," I tell her flatly. 'You don't need to see all of me for this. Just my—" I clear my throat, forcing the word out, even though it feels as if I shouldn't be saying it to her. There's noifabout it, actually—I just shouldn't be. 'Just my cock."

Her teeth sink deeper into her lip when I saycock, that flush at her throat creeping up, her gaze dropping to my lap. There's that curiosity still in her eyes, and she looks at me for a moment before glancing back up to my face. 'What would you want me to do, if I were the one touching you right now?"

'If—" I take a slow breath, clinging to my self-control with what now feels like the very skin of my teeth. Imagining her doing these things to me will come so close to undoing me, and I have to separate myself from it somehow. 'If I wanted a woman to do this to me," I correct, trying so very hard to make it not abouther, 'I would tell her to get on her knees. Right here." I spread my legs a little wider, gesturing to the space between them. 'And if I were instructing her, I would tell her to undo my belt."

As I say it, I reach for the buckle, thumbing it open smoothly. Rosalia's gaze is fixed on my hand, her breath coming a little faster now with nervous anticipation. 'And then I would tell her to take down my zipper and slip her fingers inside. Likely, I'd already be hard, but I like for a woman to go slowly. I'd tell her to ease my cock out, to be a good girl, and make sure it was nice and hard for her mouth."

Fuck. The last comes out before I can stop it, and I know that within moments, I've slipped too easily into the role of teaching her. She just needs to know the mechanics, not what you would fucking say, I chastise myself as I drag down my zipper. I can't miss what those words have done to Rosalia, the way she's breathing harder now, her hands pressed into her lap, her cheeks rosy with arousal. If I told her to do just that right now, she would. She would get on her knees for me and follow every instruction.

My fingers slip inside my slacks, touching the hard line of my cock in my boxer briefs, and I hesitate. It's not too late to back out, to go ahead and have the inevitable fight with Rosalia over my refusal, and send her to bed. This will mean my cock is the first she ever sees—and that shouldn't thrill me the way it does. It shouldn't make me throb; my balls are already tight and aching. It shouldn't make me want to come for her, so my orgasm can be the first she sees, too.

I'm already rock-hard. I hear Rosalia's soft gasp when I slip my cock free, the warm air of the room ghosting over the wet tip, pre-cum already dripping down my shaft. Her eyes go large and round, and she stares at my cock in a way that makes it throb visibly, my arousal already far closer to the edge than it should be from displaying myself like this to her.

'It's so big," she whispers, and I let out a choked laugh.

'Make sure you tell a man that whether it's true or not, and you're well on your way to him doing whatever you ask." I wrap my fingers around the shaft, pressing my fingers into the base for a moment to ease my arousal a bit.

'What are you doing?" Rosalia leans forward, her tongue tracing along her lower lip, and my cock throbs again, more pre-cum pearling at the tip. 'What's that?" Her voice is curious, inquisitive, and I suck in a slow breath, worried that the intensity of all of this will tip me over the edge too soon.

'This is what happens when I get aroused." I brush my thumb over the glistening head, letting her watch as some of the fluid drips down the shaft.

'Oh." Her teeth sink into her lip again. 'I think—there's something similar when I—"

'Yes." I bite the word out, utterly unable to listen to her describe her own arousal without either coming on the spot—which would be embarrassing—or crossing the room and pinning her back on that chaise. My fingers brush over the tip again, swollen and hot against my fingertips. 'This is the most—sensitive spot."Fuck. My toes curl, my thigh muscles so tight I'm afraid they might cramp with the effort it's taking not to come. Rosalia's eager eyes on me, following my hand, her rosy lips damp as her tongue flicks out to brush against the edge of her full lower lip—it's almost too much. I swallow hard, my jaw clenching as I brush a finger against the soft flesh just beneath the tip.

'Here," I murmur. 'If you brush your finger or flick your tongue right here—it feels incredible. Your mouth especially—if you have your lips wrapped around a man's cock and flutter your tongue just here—" I brush my finger over it again, my cock throbbing in my fist as more pre-cum leaks down the shaft.

She wants to touch me. I can see it in her face, in the heat glimmering in her eyes, the way she's leaning forward on the chaise. All I would need to do is say the word, and she would be on her knees in front of me, her sweet, hot mouth wrapped around me, ready to swallow the cum that's on the verge of bursting out of me. I squeeze the base of my cock again, trying to slow down the pace of my oncoming orgasm, but it's difficult.

'And if I just want to use my hand?" Rosalia asks softly, her voice a little strangled, too, as if she's just as aroused by this. God, I want to know how wet she is. I can almost feel it on my fingers, that slick, messy heat that I'd find if I slipped my hand into her panties.

'Everyone is different." I clench my jaw again, breathing slowly, trying to hold back. 'But this is what I prefer." I begin to stroke, long, slow strokes, my palm rubbing over the damp head with each pass, down into the very base of my cock as I bring my fist down. 'The same movement, over and over. Unless you want to tease, to draw it out, and then you can mix it up."

'Do you like that?" Rosalia draws her lower lip between her teeth again. 'Being teased?"

'It doesn't matter what I like," I grind out. I'm so desperately close, and as much as I know I shouldn't be so close to coming this hard from stroking myself in front of a woman at my age. As much experience as I have, I'm almost past caring. I need to fucking come, and I don't know how much more patience I have left in me for this. 'This is a—general—lesson. Fuck—"

I hiss the last word between my teeth without meaning to as Rosalia leans forward, her hands on the edge of the chaise, her tongue sliding over her lower lip again. All I can think of is how easily I could bend her over it, how quickly those pants could be around her ankles, her panties pulled aside so I could thrust into her. She's soaking wet. You know she is. She would be so hot, so tight, so fucking good—

'If you have any other questions—ah—" I stroke again, pressing my fingers just below the tip, squeezing out another drop of pre-cum, and Rosalia lets out a small, quick breath that feels as if it jolts straight through my cock when I hear it. 'I'm going to come in a minute, and I won't be able to—"

'Do I do the same thing with my mouth?" Her lips part, her eyes still bright and curious. 'That—rhythm? How hard do I suck—"

'Shit." My cock throbs, and I'm going to come. I can't stop it, unless—

I jerk my hand away. For one second, I think I've ruined my own orgasm, that I'm going to explode anyway. My cock jerks and twitches, glistening in the light, the veins thick and standing out along the shaft. I feel the urge recede, the smallest bit, but I know it won't be for long once I start to touch myself again.

'Everyone is different," I repeat, trying to focus, to think through the impossible fog of lust. 'But a hand and mouth together is good. It might take some—practice. Start slowly and build up the pace, and when you can tell he's close, then keep a steady rhythm. Lips and tongue and fingers. It will take you time, but you'll get the hang of it. And then, in time, if you can take it all the way down your throat—"

My cock throbs again, warningly, at the idea of Rosalia deep-throating me. I swallow hard as her eyes widen even more.

'My throat? But how would I even—"

'Practice." I can't stand it any longer. I wrap my hand around my aching shaft again, knowing how close I am to the point of no return. 'Most men will want to come in your mouth—or somewhere else. But if you don't want—"

'Where else?" Rosalia looks at me curiously, and I know this is it. I won't get this sentence out without picturing what I'm about to say, and I'll lose control.

'On—you. Your face, your breasts, your—"

Her mouth opens slightly, but I don't see disgust on her face; I see arousal. She stares at me as I groan, my cock swelling and throbbing in my fist. 'I'm going to—oh, fuck—"

I'm not sure I've ever come so hard in my life. The intensity of it washes over me like a tidal wave, one hand gripping the side of the chair as a burst of hot cum splashes over my fist, dripping over my fingers. I hear Rosalia's surprised gasp, the sound trailing off into something that sounds very much like a moan, and that only intensifies the sensation, spurt after spurt splashing over my fingers and hand as I tilt my head back, unable to do anything other than give myself over to the intense, overwhelming pleasure.

Rosalia is breathing hard. I can hear her as I stroke my hand slowly over my cock, slick with cum, drawing out the last swells of pleasure before I take my hand away. When I open my eyes, she's staring at me with a glassy-eyed look that tells me she's turned on almost to the point of begging me to touch her—and if she weren't so innocent, she might.

She's a little less innocent, now.

Guilt follows the euphoria of my orgasm, so close and hot on its heels that one has barely faded before the other arrives. I reach unsteadily for the handkerchief I'd put in my pocket, one I'd intended to use to minimize the mess and forgotten all about, wiping my hand off on it before unsteadily tucking my softening cock back into my trousers. 'Remember what you promised," I tell her flatly, my voice going cold. I see the way she flinches at the sound, and that brings another kind of guilt, but she has to know this is the end of it. If she doesn't, if she tries to ask for more—I don't know if I can stop myself from touching her. I want to find out just how wet she is, to taste her, to teach her what it means to feel that kind of pleasure. It's taking everything in me not to think about whether or not she'll touch herself after I leave.

'I know." Her voice wavers slightly. 'I—"

I shake my head, standing up. 'I'm going to bed, Rosalia. Tomorrow night, you'll have a date with one of the Graziano brothers. Think about your future and which of those men you want to share it with. Your decision will matter very soon."

I see the way her shoulders slump slightly as she nods, but she doesn't say anything else. And when I walk out of the library, still vibrating with the aftershocks of pleasure, it takes everything in me to remind myself that it's for the best.

I've made the right decision. Now, I just have to see it through.