He reaches for me now, but I step back, just out of reach. His hands fall to his knees, frustration tightening his jaw.
"Patience, Antonio," I say, my voice husky.
"I'm not a patient man," he growls, but he stays where he is, watching, waiting.
He deserves a little torture.
I smile and turn my back to him. I look over my shoulder and give him a wicked look as I slowly pull the zipper down.
"Tease," he accuses.
"Only a little," I say.
He growls again as the dress loosens.
"How are you feeling about this dress now?" I look over my shoulder again, bite my lip as I push one strap off my shoulder.
"Hating it more and more every second," he says, the words strained. "Get it off. Now."
"Now, when you said the floor of your bedroom..." I push the other strap off my shoulder but hold it against my chest. The back dips to give him a tantalizing view. "Is this what you had inmind?"
"Elsa," he warns. "I've never been much on spanking, but we're getting there."
A small sound escapes me at the image, my clit pulsing in response.
"Be careful, I might like that," I say.
"Drop it. Now," he says sternly.
The tone has a fresh pool gathering between my legs.
The dress puddles at my feet, but I don't turn around just yet. I can feel his eyes on me, my back, my legs, my ass.
"Bend over for me," he says, his voice hoarse.
My eyes widen, genuinely shocked. "Antonio."
"You started this game,dolcezza. Now play it. Bend. Over."
And so I do.
I bend at the waist, slowly, giving him the view he asked for. A sharp inhale tells me he's appreciating it.
"Perfetto," he breathes. "I'm going to enjoy that. Now turn around."
I do, slowly, and stand before him completely bare.
His eyes sweep over me, hot and possessive. He pushes up and stalks toward me, all that pent-up energy coiling in him.
When he reaches me, he doesn't touch me. He circles me, predatorily, like he's appraising a prize, and I have to fight the urge to cover myself. I stand my ground, chinhigh.
When he's in front of me again, he stops.
"You're even more perfect than I imagined," he murmurs. "Sei tutta la mia."
"What does that mean?" I whisper.
"You are all mine," he says, his hands moving to my waist and pulling me flush against him. The fabric of his pants is rough against my sensitive skin.