His: Tony: The Sabatini Family by Fiona Murphy (sneezy the snowman read aloud TXT) 📕

all of me. He tastes of black cherries and sin, of smoke and a million things I’ve never known before.

Tony pulls his mouth from mine, and I gasp from the loss. I only now realize there’s another man talking. I’m working so hard to breathe, though, I can’t hear anything above my frantic panting.

“Get the fuck out of here. I’ll be right there. Send Carmine to my office until she’s in my room.” Tony growls.

“What?” I mumble as he tries to pull away, my arms are locked around his neck. He’s sitting me down on the table. No, that’s too far from him.

His touch is gentle as he slides his hands up and down my arms once, twice, before grasping them and tugging them down. “I have to go, piccolina.”

My eyes are wide as I look up at him in disbelief.

Soft for the first time, his eyes run over me, and I shiver at the way they make me feel oddly safe yet hot and melty at the same time. “If I had a choice, it would be to stay here and be buried deep inside you already. I’ll give you what you want, have no doubt about that. First, business needs to be taken care of.”

The suit jacket from the back of the chair is wrapped around me. “Keep this on, so Carmine and Joseph don’t see you. No one sees your body but me. Go upstairs and wait for me. My room is directly across from the one you were in.”

I blink, and he’s walking away. Seconds later, I hear the front door close behind him. In a daze, I look around at the mess of broken glass and plates. Crap, I’m not wearing shoes. There doesn’t appear to be anywhere safe for me to put my feet to make it out of the kitchen without hurting myself.

Sighing, I give in and yell for Carmine about a half dozen times. Finally, the guy who drove my car appears in the doorway of the kitchen, eyeing me warily. “What?”

“There’s broken glass and stuff on the floor. I need shoes.”

He looks at the floor and frowns, then back up at me. It’s obvious he’s not sure what to do.

“Or you can clean it up? I don’t really care either way, but there is too much crap on the floor for me to take a chance.”

Frowning again, he nods and goes toward the pantry. He comes back with a broom and a dustpan and starts sweeping everything up. As he bends down, I swear it was never a plan, which is probably why it fails badly. I spot the empty bottle of wine at my side and his head is right there. Without thinking, I slam the bottle on the back of his head. Unlike in the movies, nothing happens that I think will. I try to jump off the table, and I land on a piece of glass and cry out as I fall on my face. Carmine grabs my ankle and drags me toward him.

The fucker hefts me over his shoulder and carts me upstairs. He tosses me on the bed, and before I know what’s happening, he’s tying me to the corner bedpost with a silk tie.

“Ouch, you fucker. I’m bleeding here.” Fuck, he tied it way too damn tight.

“Yeah, well, so am I.” Taking his hand away from the back of his head, I wince at the sight of the blood.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I don’t even know why I tried to do it.”

“Tell it to Tony when he gets home. He’s going to kick my ass for you getting the drop on me and seeing your tits.”

Oh god, I only now feel the suit jacket is wide open. Before I have time to be embarrassed, he slams the door behind him as he leaves. Shit. I’m in so much trouble. Tony is going to be so pissed off at me.

Weirdly, I’m not truly afraid...okay, I am not looking forward to him being cold and angry, but I don’t have any actual fear of Tony. What in the hell is the matter with me?

Rationally, I know he has to kill me. Even with the hot as fuck moment in the kitchen and his promise to give me what I asked for. In the end, Tony Sabatini is going to kill me. At the same time, my instinct—everything in me—screams I’m safe with him.

I don’t know. Maybe this is all some weird waking dream from the whole planning thing. I should be pee-my-pants freaked out right now, but I’m not. Although it is fucking annoying the way the damn jacket is open and my breasts are hanging out. And, of course, I’m pointed right at the camera.

Holy shit. Am I actually wet at the thought of Tony seeing me naked on the camera? Oh lord, I am. There might have been two stories that remind me of this, I had found myself reading faster than the others. The idea of giving up control to Tony, to have him take over, is causing me to squirm on the bed with aching need. I can’t fight it anymore. A part of my fascination with him is the raw power he exudes. Tony Sabatini is in charge, absolutely, without question. So why shouldn’t I give up to him and not fight it—fight him?

Up until today, I had desperately sought to control my world and everything in it. And I’m so fucking tired of it. It was all for nothing anyway. It didn’t matter how many hours I spent meal prepping and shopping and making sure everything was perfect. In the end, it all fell apart. I have no doubt nothing is allowed to fall apart without Tony Sabatini’s say-so. There is an odd appeal to having Tony be the one in control over everything now.

A groan escapes me. I really have to pee. I start calling for Carmine, but he never comes. Jerk.

Okay, I maybe deserve it.

Where is Tony? Is he