An Heiress in Venice by Tara Crescent

Author:Tara Crescent [Crescent, Tara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-09-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Enzo:

This time, she didn’t run. Once her bindings were undone, she stayed nestled in my arms and I held her and stroked her body. She was quiet for the longest time, then she stretched like a sleepy cat. “That was nice,” she said, blushing.

“Nice? Nice? I think I’m offended,” I teased her.

She blushed harder, and I chuckled and kissed her neck. I was used to providing after-care, and was accustomed to the greater feeling of intimacy that resulted after a session. But this was something else. This felt like togetherness.

I hadn’t felt this way for a very, very long time. And finally, after so many years, I was ready to allow myself to feel this connection with a woman. This woman, who nestled like a tired, contented kitten in my arms.

“Enzo,” she muttered in my chest. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, gattina.”

“How come you play at Casanova?” She sounded a little hesitant as she continued. “Is it because of the variety?”

“The variety of what?” I asked, before realizing what she meant. “No, Alice, I don’t need, nor do I want a stable of women.” I sighed. “It’s an old story,” I said.

She met my gaze. “I’d like to hear it,” she said. “Sir,” she added.

I laughed. “No Sir, please. That’s just for sex. Enzo will do just fine.” My arms tightened around her, and she moaned a little in appreciation, and nuzzled my neck.

“You already know I grew up in an orphanage,” I said. “Hellish place. When I was fifteen, I got lucky. A family came forward to foster me.” I shifted and swallowed. “I loved my foster parents, and they loved me. And then, when I was eighteen, their niece Maria came to live with them.”

She moved a little in my arms, and I forced myself to ease my grip on her. “It was about that time that I was discovering that I liked my sex on the kinky side. And Maria was attracted to me, and I to her, and we played together. Spanking, flogging, that kind of thing.”

“What happened?” Her voice was very quiet.

“Sometimes, she had marks. One day, my foster mother discovered them and confronted her. And she was too afraid to talk about the kink. So she told my mother that I’d been abusing her.”

I could feel her stiffen with horror. “Enzo,” she said softly, placing her hand in mine.

“It was quite a scene. My foster parents disowned me and threw me out. I was about to start university in Padua. Instead, I left Italy, wanting to leave the scandal behind.”

“They just threw you out? After three years? Without listening to what you had to say?”

I shrugged. “They picked blood, gattina. I cannot fault them for that.”

“Well, you should,” she said, her voice stubborn. “That was a terrible thing to do.”

“Can I continue the story?” I grinned, my heart warmed by her indignation. The old wound had lost its power to hurt many years ago, but I was incredibly touched that she was angry for me.

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