Taming Domenico

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 7

DOMENICO

“I swear to God, if you haven’t gained weight, I’m going to f*****g disown you,” Luca’s voice crackled through the phone speaker.

I snorted, leaning back in my chair. “And yet, I’m still the pretty one.”

“In your dreams,” he replied. “I’ve got cheekbones for days and an ass that could make saints sin.”

I laughed—really laughed—and for a second, I forgot about everything.

“Where are you?” I asked, already guessing the answer.

“Korea now,” he said.

“You’re enjoying yourself too much,” I muttered.

“Guilty,” he said cheerfully. “The guy begged, you know? Actual tears. You’d have loved it. Very poetic.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m charming.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“Pot, meet kettle.”

My lips curved. Luca and Matteo were the only person in the world who could speak to me like this and get away with it. People feared me. Avoided me. Called me cold, heartless, emotionless.

And the bastard had been in my life since I had memory. His mother and mine were best friends. His mom was more of a mom than mine was.

“I brought in someone,” I said slowly. “For revenge.”

“A woman?”

“Yes.”

Silence again.

“Is she hot?”

I hesitated.

He burst out laughing. “Dio, she’s hot. I can hear it in your voice.”

“She’s a mess,” I said, shifting in my chair. “A broken, furious, reckless mess.”

“Ah,” he sighed. “Your type.”

“She’s got a sharp mouth. Never knows when to shut the f**k up.”

“And that turns you on, doesn’t it?” he teased.

I didn’t answer.

“Jesus, you’re predictable. You always fall for the ones with a vendetta and an attitude problem.”

I clenched my jaw. “Luca—”

“I’ll meet her when I get back,” he cut in. “Can’t wait.”

I hung up before he could say more. Bastard would just keep digging.

I dropped the phone onto my desk and leaned back, letting out a slow breath. The house was quiet. Matteo had probably gone off to harass someone. The staff stayed out of my way. And Maureen…

Maureen was probably in her room, stewing in silence.

My mind drifted to her.

Her skin—deep, rich brown that made my mouth dry. Full lips that didn’t know how to stay shut. Sharp tongue. Sharper eyes. Her confidence wasn’t refined yet. It was raw, still blooming. But I could see it. Feel it.

And then there was the blood.

Her first mission. The way she held the gun. The way she walked away from a body with a look of purpose in her eyes. She wasn’t shaken. She was high on it.

It should have worried me. It didn’t.

It made my c**k hard.

I cursed under my breath.

“Fanculo,” I growled, pushing away from the desk. The ache between my legs had been building all night. I’d ignored it at dinner. Ignored it while talking to Luca.

But now?

Now I was alone.

And all I could see was her.

In that tight black outfit from earlier. Her thighs wrapped around someone’s waist—my waist. Her mouth open, moaning my name. Her hands clawing at my back.

Her kneeling before me, eyes defiant, daring me to make her submit.

My c**k twitched painfully against my pants.

I swore again, ripping the button open and dragging the zipper down. My hand wrapped around my length, already hard, already leaking. I groaned as I started stroking—slow at first, dragging my palm over the head, imagining her tongue there.

She’d be a brat. I could tell.

Wouldn’t beg.

Wouldn’t ask.

She’d fight me with those sharp eyes, even while taking my c**k in her throat.

My hips bucked into my hand.

“f**k,” I hissed.

I could see her now—blood on her face, sweat glistening on her collarbone, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as I slammed into her.

“You wanted this, piccola,” I muttered through gritted teeth. “You asked for it.”

My muscles tightened.

My grip turned brutal.

The orgasm hit like a bullet—fast, sharp, devastating. I came with a low, angry groan, spilling hot across my hand. My eyes slammed shut as I imagined her watching me, biting her lip, eyes wide.

It took a full minute for my breathing to slow.

I sat there in silence, chest heaving, the room spinning just slightly.

Then I opened my eyes and stared at the mess on my hand.

Pathetic.

I never lost control. Not like this.

I’d f****d women. Used them. Left them.

But I didn’t obsess.

And Maureen? She was quickly becoming an obsession I couldn’t afford.

She’s nothing, I told myself. Just a girl with a vendetta and a pretty face. Replaceable.

But even as I thought it, my mind screamed liar.

Because no one else made me lose my f*****g mind.

No one else made me come like a goddamn animal just from a memory.

And tomorrow morning at

five a.m., I’d be training her.

Touching her.

Commanding her.

Watching her sweat under my gaze.

I was already hard again.

Dio, help me.