Rosa

Chapter 37

Amber eyes sparking with lust, Rosa echoed, "Now?"

In response, he gave her a definitive smirk.

Then, Cristiano dropped a kiss on her shoulder and asked in hushed tones, "Where is the gift I bought you?"

Gift?

Oh!

Did he mean—

Realization of what he might be suggesting drew a delicious pulse of heat between her legs.

Was she ready, though, to give herself to the bastard, fully, for a whole fucking week?

Would Cristiano push her to her limits?

Rosa didn't know what to expect from him, but curiosity and desire fueled her courage, her recklessness.

"In my luggage," she replied.

Cristiano watched Rosa. His devil-black gaze remained steady on her face.

He ordered quietly, "Bring it to me."

Slowly, she rose from his lap. Rosa strode over to her suitcase, unzipped it, and rummaged through her belongings until she found the, hum, particular item he had requested. The small, black egg-shaped device fit snugly in the palm of her hand.

She brought it back to Cristiano.

He held out his palm.

Approval shone in Cristiano's eyes as Rosa dropped the toy into his hand. He nodded towards the empty chair beside him.

"Now, sit."

The Afrodita saleswoman's words came back to taunt her.

This model is one of my favorites.

It can be controlled through a phone.

You are a lucky woman.

I believe your man is about to show you a very good time.

Anticipation ran high, bursting through her veins, as she lowered herself into the adjacent leather seat with a graceful sliding motion. Like a lady, Rosa crossed her legs as she sat down.

"Lift your skirt," he instructed through a hooded gaze, "and spread your legs."

Indignation flared slightly.

She understood Cristiano was supposed to be charge at the moment, but—

Who did this bastard think he was?

Ordering her around as though she was his whore?

Yet, something innately depraved and inwardly naughty compelled her to obey him. Because Rosa knew that they would be taking turns at this little game. She decided to start keeping score. Tit for tat, tally after tally, she would remember every moment of this power play between them and pay him back tenfold once he handed over the reins next week.

Once it was her week, karma was going to be a bitch.

Or an angel.

It would all depend on how he treated her this week.

Their gazes locked.

A combative mix of desire and tension seethed in the air.

Not breaking eye contact from Cristiano, Rosa's chin jutted out in defiance, but her hands, ever so hypocritically, moved to the hem of her bright orange-red vermillion-dyed skirt. Centimeter by centimeter, she drew the light, airy fabric up her bare thighs.