Rosa

Chapter 14

Hot, steaming water continued to spray around them in the stall.

Rosa stared at Mr. Massera with a look of utter disbelief. His rejection stung like an insult. The feeling was foreign to her. She couldn't remember the last time any man had chosen to side with his brain over his cock during her advances.

This bastard.

This clever, observant bastard.

He always saw right through her plays.

Rosa's gaze also grew shrewd and sharp. She saw through him, too. His cool, calm demeanor seemed to mask a need to always be in control. This was a man with an iron-like will. He was controlling and calculating. Most men weren't born this way. They were made this way. A man with such qualities, Rosa reasoned, had to have survived some sort of tragedy and trauma. A man with such qualities had to possess some sort of ambitious agenda.

What was this supposed schoolteacher from Calabria hiding from her?

What did he seek to accomplish?

One way or another, Rosa intended to break down his walls and witness this man's true face with her own eyes.

Just to spite him.

She feigned a disappointed shrug. "Tant pis! If that is how you feel, mon beau, then I certainly will not stay where I am unwelcome."

Not wasting another breath on him, Rosa stepped out of the shower stall in a slow, leisurely manner.

Mr. Massera didn't try to stop her.

Bastard.

Still, Rosa felt his dark eyes boring into her as she grabbed a clean towel from a rack and started patting herself dry. She wielded the white terry cloth in a way that a burlesque dancer might use a feathered fan to captivate her audience, letting it play a subtle game of peekaboo with her curves.

With a soft, breathy sigh, Rosa dawdled around her chest, massaging the fullness of her breasts and rolling her nipples under the towel, before bending over to dry the length of her long, shapely legs. Down and up the right leg. Then, down and up the left leg.

Her knowing eyes never strayed far from his heated gaze.

She was punishing him, teasing him, and they both knew it.

Mr. Massera glowered at her movements as his shaft throbbed away like an angry steel rod. His jaw kept clenching and unclenching. Desire thrummed from him like a mounting storm. The muscles in his entire body were drawn rigid with the discomfort of unfulfilled lust.

She smirked and left the bathroom.

Outside, Rosa perched herself on the edge of the shabby mattress and waited for him to finish his shower. Minutes crept by. The man was taking a bit longer than expected.

She wondered if he might be himself jacking off right now?

Her thoughts took a turn towards wickedness and debauchery. The mental image of Mr. Massera fisting his cock in the throes of self-pleasure sent several hard, longing pulses of heat through her sex. Her senses burned with want. Rosa slipped into a pair of panties and climbed into bed, opting to go topless.

Absent-mindedly, Rosa's hands drifted towards her nipples and her clit. She began to play with herself while fantasizing about the beautiful bastard showering a few feet away. Rosa didn't want to fuck the man in real life, but she possessed no qualms about fucking him in her mind.

He dragged her into their five-star hotel room.

Fuck motels.

He threw her onto the bed and climbed on top of her, caging her smaller body beneath his larger frame.