Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

The next morning after Benito’s rejection, I sit at the dining table by the window, staring at my breakfast. I’m wrapped in a toweling gown, since Carla took away my green kimono for cleaning.

It won’t be as silky once it’s back. Nothing feels the same anymore.

I give up pushing around the eggs with my fork. My appetite has turned to shit. As I trace my fingers over the rim of the porcelain cup, my mind drifts to last night.

What will it take to fix us when Benito still controls everything? He gets to walk away and toss me aside like yesterday’s trash. I’m trapped here, clinging onto the last vestiges of his pity.

Sunlight bathes the honeymoon suite, but all I feel is the weight of last night’s silence. I can’t shake the image of Benito, fully dressed, walking out the door without a backward glance. The emptiness he left behind claws at my chest, making it near impossible to breathe.

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. Carla enters, carrying a garment draped over her arm.

“Good morning, Mrs. Montesano,” she says, her voice bright. She places a folded kimono on the bed. It’s a deep sapphire blue that shimmers in the sunlight.

My gaze drifts to the garment. It’s even more beautiful than the green one from last night, but I can’t muster the energy to care.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

“You don’t like it?” she asks.

“I do,” I reply, trying to inject my voice with warmth. “I just…”

My shoulders sag, dragged down by my stormy thoughts. What’s the point of getting excited about a gift from Benito when it’s not given with love?

Her smile falters again, but she picks up the breakfast tray, careful not to meet my eyes. “If you need anything, just call room service, alright?”

“Thanks, Carla,” I mutter.

As she turns to leave, something catches my eye—a piece of tissue paper, folded beneath my coffee cup. It wasn’t there before, and I know I didn’t leave it. Pulse quickening, I unfold it, revealing a single line written in hurried handwriting:

It’s not safe to talk here. If you need help, order ultra glide tampons.

Freezing, I stare down at the note. My mind races with rapid-fire questions. Carla must have slipped this to me while clearing the breakfast tray. But is she talking about hidden cameras? Panic prickles at the thought of someone watching.

I stand so quickly, the chair tumbles to the floor with a crash. Pulse pounding, I head for the bathroom and sit down on the toilet.

After tearing the paper into small pieces, I drop the scraps into the bowl and flush. As the remnants of the note swirl down the drain with a rush of water, one name rises to the surface.

Benito.

He must have installed cameras in this suite.

Carla means well, but I don’t need her help. Involving her in my relationship could make things worse. If I’m going to get Benito back—I need to face him.

Alone.

My thoughts sharpen with a sudden clarity. If there’s one thing I know about Benito, it’s that he’s cautious. He’s probably watching me right now, wondering if I’m cheating.

That’s something I can use to my advantage.

Steeling myself, I walk out of the bathroom and over to the mini bar, where housekeeping packed the black box of toys. I crack it open and remove the largest dildo from its cardboard casting. After tearing off its plastic wrapper with my teeth, I hold it like a club.

If Benito is watching, then I’ll give him a show.

I strip off the robe, letting it fall to the floor, and walk over to the bed. My body is still sensitive from last night, still aching for him in ways I’m not ready to admit.

Lying back on the bed, I close my eyes and trail my fingers down my belly, imagining it to be his lips. I spread my legs, letting the cool air brush against my heated skin.

Wetness already gathers in my pussy, and I rub my clit, imagining my fingertip is his tongue. The bundle of nerves swell under my touch, and I shiver.

“Benito,” I say out loud, my voice throaty.

With my other hand, I guide the dildo at my entrance, making sure to part my knees as far as they’ll go. Picturing Benito, sitting in some kind of control room, magnifying the image, I glide the silicone object deep in my pussy.

The pleasure is immediate, sharp and all-consuming. My back arches off the bed as I slide the toy in and out, my breath coming in soft pants. Crying out, I buck my hips in counterpoint to the dildo’s thrusts, wanting him to watch.

Faster, harder—I ride the edge of pleasure, feeling the tension coil in my belly, tighter and tighter until it snaps. My orgasm rips through my core, and I moan his name through the spasms.

Before I can catch my breath, the door creaks open. My heart skips a beat, but I don’t dare lift my head. Benito stands at the foot of the bed, his eyes dark, predatory, and furious.

“Speak of the devil,” I say with a groan.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His gaze flicks to the new silk kimono hanging on the closet door, untouched.

“You walked out on me last night without leaving me a forwarding number. We haven’t finished talking.”

He crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing. “So, this is how you start a conversation? Naked and waiting?”

“How else would I get your attention?” I sit up, drawing my knees to my chest, my confidence wavering.

Benito shakes his head, his lips tightening. He turns like he’s about to leave, and panic spikes through my chest. I can’t let him go—not again. I leap off the bed, my feet hitting the cold marble, and launch myself at his back.

The last time I did that, he stumbled forward. Admittedly, we were twelve. Now, he’s as immovable as an iceberg, except he’s still heading toward the door.

“Don’t tell me you’re walking away from this morning’s breeding,” I say, my legs wrapping around his broad back.

Benito stops.

Shoulders stiffening, a muscle on the side of his jaw ticks. With a snarl, he peels me off his back and sets me on the floor. But at least he isn’t moving. Instead, he glares down at me with those cold, calculating eyes that once shone with warmth .

I meet his gaze, forcing myself not to shiver.

“Return to the bed on all fours,” he orders.

“No. I want it face to face.” My fingers grab the waistband of his pants, and I tug him backward toward the bed. “We do this like a married couple.”

His eyes flash with fury, but he lets me drag him closer. When the backs of my knees hit the edge of the mattress, I place my hands on his shoulders and push him down to sit. He stares up at me, those hard eyes burning into mine, but I refuse to back down.

I kneel between his legs and gaze up into his stony features, reminding myself this is my Benito. Beneath that cold exterior is a man who doesn’t want to see me hurt. A man who wants me to bear his children. I just need to make more of an effort to draw out the love.

My fingers work to unbutton his fly, but his hand shoots out and seizes my wrist.

“Straddle me.”

My brow pinches. That’s the second time he’s stopped me from pulling out his cock. Is it scarred or is he shy? A lump forms in my throat as another possibility floats to the front of my mind. What if my affair with Bob Brisket has made Benito insecure?

Pushing back a surge of guilt, I rise to my feet, swinging a leg over his hips, followed by the next, and straddle his lap. My lips are so close to his that we’re sharing the same air, and I lean forward for a kiss.

“No.”

My stomach dips. I force my gaze to remain on his, even through the sting of yet another rejection.

Benito reaches between our bodies, unzips his fly, and pulls out his cock. Its tip rests against my inner thigh, long and thick and hard, radiating a surge of heat that makes me pant.

He holds my hips, positioning me just above his crown, and grips his length at its base. Anticipation sizzles between us like static electricity, making the muscles of my pussy convulse. Holding onto his shoulders, I lower myself down on his shaft, inch by thickening inch, until he’s fully sheathed.

The stretch is incredible, and I can’t help but moan. Benito remains poker faced, until my muscles clamp down on his length.

His eyes flicker with emotion, and I track every infinitesimal shift in his expression. He’s furious, I can feel it, but he won’t shove me off. At least not until he’s come.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” I whisper against his lips. “Ever since you proposed, I’ve wanted you. Fucking you is like winning the jackpot.”

His jaw tightens, as does his grip on my hip. He grinds into my pussy and snarls, “We’re married. You were always going to get sex.”

I lean in, pressing my forehead to his, my hands cupping his jaw and forcing our eyes to meet. “I don’t just want to be your wife. I want to be your best friend, the way we were before I ruined everything.”

His thrusts falter for a second, his breath coming out harsher, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. But he recovers, his eyes hardening once more as he grips my waist and drives into me with more force.

Ecstasy explodes across my core, drawing out a gasp. I throw my head backward, just as he finally begins to speak.

“You can’t fix this with words.” His voice is like gravel, rough and unforgiving.

“I know I betrayed you, but I want us back. I never stopped loving you.”

He scoffs, his hands tightening around my waist as he holds me steady, thrusting up into me with a controlled frenzy that leaves me breathless. “How can I believe a word you say?” His words are a snarl, his breath hot against my skin. “Less than forty-eight hours after you fucked another man?”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry.”noveldrama

He pounds up harder, his body tense beneath mine, as if trying to punish me for every word. But I don’t back down. I meet his gaze, my hands still cradling his face, my body trembling with every movement.

“I love how you make me feel,” I continue, my voice hoarse. “Even when you’re cold and cruel… you always make me feel alive.”

His breath quickens, and I see something flicker in his eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly, replaced by that familiar hard shell.

“What the hell do you want from me, Ginevra?” he grinds out, his body tight with tension.

“Remember who we were, what we had,” I whisper, running my trembling fingers over his chest. “That future we imagined when we were kids. I don’t care what it takes. I’ll fight for it. Fight for us.”

His eyes narrow, his grip tightening on my waist as he thrusts into me one last time, hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any promises. He just stares at me, his gaze burning with something I can’t quite name.

But I know I’ve gotten through to him. I can feel it in the way his body responds to mine, in the way his grip around my hips softens, so it’s no longer punishing.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

“Yours,” I whisper back, my heart pounding against his. “Always.”