Chapter 6 Fear And Desire

• Vittoria remained still, as if her own body betrayed her, refusing to react. Fear pulsed in her eyes, silent and fierce, as she tracked the slow glide of the blade along her dress.
• Each inch of exposed skin burned like fire, not from the metal but from the way Vincenzo watched her, as if he already possessed her without a single touch.
• “Tell me, bella,” Vincenzo murmured, stepping back, his gaze locked on hers without so much as a blink. “Are you afraid?”
• “No,” Vittoria replied, lifting her chin with defiance, refusing to betray even a hint of weakness, though chaos blazed around her.
• Vincenzo smiled—not a rushed or lecherous grin, but a restrained, silent gesture, as if beholding something he believed was his right.
• His eyes traced every revealed curve, lingering on the soft lines of her body, now clad only in delicate lingerie.
• To him, it was like admiring a masterpiece crafted solely for his touch, ready to be claimed with the same authority a king seizes his throne.
• He brought the knife to his lips, gripping it between his teeth with casual ease. His posture was relaxed, as if he had all the time in the world.
• Vincenzo didn’t rush. He knew precisely the effect he wielded and savored every second of it.
• With a careless motion, he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the nearest armchair, claiming the space with effortless dominance.
• Then, without warning, he gripped his shirt and tore it open. The sound of ripping fabric and buttons scattering across the floor shattered the silence like a spark of raw desire.
• Vittoria flinched subtly, her muscles tensing, but her eyes stayed locked on his. There was something in the way he watched her, as if he’d stripped her bare long before the dress fell.
• His exposed chest, the burning intensity of his gaze, the crooked smile dancing on his lips—all of it screamed danger and pleasure in equal measure.
• Vincenzo slid the knife from between his teeth with a slow, deliberate motion. The smile lingered on his lips, sharp and provocative.
• Unhurried, he began twirling the blade between his fingers with deft precision, as if merely toying with it—a silent, dangerous game where he set the rules, and she was the prize.
• “Did Enzo ever get this far?” Vincenzo asked, his voice husky, thick with control. “Has he ever seen you like this? So exposed, so at his mercy?” His gaze roamed her body like an uninvited caress. “Or did you always know, deep down, that you could only ever be mine?”
• He tilted his head, his lips curving into a cold, predatory smile, dangerously seductive.
• “What does it matter?” Vittoria shot back, her voice trembling, betrayed by the nerves she tried to conceal.
• She propped herself up on her elbows, her body still taut, but her eyes locked on his, defying him with what little resolve she had left.
• “Don’t answer me with a question,” Vincenzo chided, leaning over her until his lips nearly brushed hers, his warm breath mingling with hers in the charged air. “Answer mine.” His voice was low, commanding, carrying an unquestionable authority as he traced the cold blade along her cheek—not a threat, but a subtle reminder of who held the power.
• “No,” Vittoria replied, her voice barely audible but laced with restrained defiance. “He never touched me.” She held his gaze, a silent act of resistance.
• “Bene,” Vincenzo murmured, his eyes drifting slowly over her body with the hunger of a man who already knew the taste. “Then it’s time to remind you how much your skin can burn when it’s not driven by fear.” His voice was rough, lingering, as if each syllable reached the places she fought to hide.
• Without waiting for a response, Vincenzo closed the distance between them. His lips claimed hers in a brutal kiss, more a demand than an invitation, as if staking his claim on what he believed was his.
• But before he could deepen it, Vittoria reacted. With a surge of anger, she bit his lower lip hard, drawing a faint taste of blood and shattering his control for a fleeting moment.
• Vincenzo pulled back just enough, his eyes narrowing, his breath heavy against hers. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
• He raised a hand, slowly wiping the cut with his thumb, then brought it to his lips. His tongue grazed the blood, savoring the defiance as if it were a delicacy.
• “Careful, bella,” Vincenzo warned, his voice low and dangerously calm. “I like it when it hurts.”
• Once again, before she could react, Vincenzo claimed control. The cold blade glided over her skin, slow, precise, almost reverent.
• It traced a dangerous path, igniting shivers as Vittoria’s body betrayed her, responding with sensations she refused to acknowledge.
• Each brush of the metal sparked a fresh, deep tremor, as if he knew precisely where to blur the line between fear and desire.
• “Stop,” she demanded, but her voice came out soft, a whisper caught between anger and the desire he relentlessly coaxed from her.
• Her gaze tried to hold its defiance, but her ragged breaths and the heat beneath her skin gave her away. Vittoria despised the power he wielded—and even more, how her body responded to it.
• Vincenzo’s smile widened, wicked and satisfied, as he continued sliding the blade along her sensitive skin.
• The metal’s touch sent waves of shivers, and despite her efforts to stay resolute, Vittoria’s body betrayed her. Her muscles tensed, her breath faltered, and her lips parted uncontrollably.
• He paused at the delicate strap of her panties, slowly twisting the blade’s tip against the fabric, as if savoring the anticipation more than the act itself.
• Vittoria bit her lower lip, desperately trying to stifle a moan—and failed.
• The shame of her involuntary response mingled with the heat pulsing between her thighs.
• The blade continued its journey, trailing down her thigh to her ankle, leaving a wake of tension and desire.
• Vincenzo pulled back slowly, as if time were his to command, and knelt before the bed.
• With one hand, he grasped her ankle. With the other, he removed her heel with the same calm as he might disarm a weapon.
• “Do you know what’s truly changed over these years, principessa?” Vincenzo asked, his voice husky as he held her ankle. “You’ve grown more beautiful. Bolder. And, from what I see, even more irresistible.”
• He leaned in and kissed the arch of her foot, his tongue grazing her sensitive skin lightly before his lips closed in a gesture as intimate as if it were indecent.
• “And now that I’ve tasted you again, I won’t stop until I find the part of you that begs most for my mouth.”
• “Vincenzo, please, stop…” Vittoria pleaded, her voice trembling.
• “Asking me to stop, cara mia…” Vincenzo remarked, his voice silken, a caress too warm to ignore. “But that’s not what your body just told me.”
• His fingers traced her leg with calculated slowness, grazing her sensitive skin, drinking in every subtle reaction.
• With the tip of the blade, he began gliding gently along the arch of her foot, charting a dangerous path up to her ankle.
• The touch was light, almost delicate, but the cold metal made Vittoria’s body respond. A sudden shiver raced up her spine, and she held her breath, suspended between fear and a desire she loathed to feel.
• “You can say ‘no’ with your mouth, Vittoria,” Vincenzo whispered, his tone laced with provocation. “But your skin? Your skin screams yes, every time I touch it.”
• And then, giving her no time to respond, he gripped her foot firmly and rested it on his knees. His gaze stayed locked on hers, calm and cruelly serene.
• With a swift motion, he slid the blade along the sole of her foot. This time, the metal didn’t just threaten—it cut.
• It was subtle, precise, but enough to draw blood.