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The words land as though Salvatore is a marksman, each one striking me right in the belly, where my lust pulses like a new heartbeat—a new beast that he’s woken up and set free inside me.
“Your body, your mind, your tight little virgin cunt—they’re mine. You are mine. I decide what you feel, how you feel it. I don’t even want your own fingers between your legs without my permission. I’ll show you how you should be taken care of.”
The fantasy is overwhelming as it plays out behind my eyelids.
I feel myself nodding, drinking in his words.
“Good girl.” I feel stupid and weak for the slightest scrap of his praise, hungering to please him. He releases my hands, but I stay sprawled beneath him, weak and numb.
Salvatore pulls out his phone again. He hushes me before I can start begging and pleading again. He turns the screen so I can see. My naked picture is there, half-hidden behind a text prompt: Delete? Yes / No. He lets me watch as his thumb taps the confirmation, and the picture vanishes.
I breathe a sigh.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He smirks—that dangerous, scarred smile. “I’m not beyond reasoning with,” he says, but there’s a low teasing in the undercurrent of his words, like he knows something that I don’t.
He sets the phone next to my head, where it rings faintly, already connected to a call.
Salvatore’s expression gives me nothing. I pick up the phone—and see the name Gio Lovera. My father.
My stunned eyes flick to his. His smile doesn’t waver.
I haven’t talked to my father in months, and this is going to be our reunion.
Before I can react, the line connects. My father’s angry, sleep-addled voice fills the line.
“What?” he asks, biting out the word. “You have some goddamn nerve, Sal—”
“Papa, it’s me,” I interrupt.
A beat of quiet confusion passes.
“Tess?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, trying to figure out how to explain myself.
“Tessa, where are you?” He’s completely awake now, putting the pieces together. Outrage wavers in his voice, but I hear concern too. I wonder if he really means it, if he’s actually scared for me or just for his own pride.
Salvatore locks eyes with me, his stare dark and devious. He lowers himself to my body, buries his face between my breasts. My breath catches in my throat, eyes roaming around Salvatore’s dark bedroom as if not seeing him will make it easier to pretend this isn’t happening.
“Tessa?” my father asks again, more urgently.
“I’m here,” I say, around a swallow. “I’m at the Mori estate.”
Salvatore trails his lips over the flat valley of my stomach, making his way over the arch of my hipbones. Lower and lower, the destination inevitable.
“He brought me here,” I say, working to keep my voice level. “I’m sorry, I—”
Salvatore’s head buries between my thighs. He wraps his mouth around my clit and sucks against the soft mound nestled between my legs. With my father on the phone, asking desperate questions against my ear, Salvatore Mori eats my pussy out. I bite hard against my gasp, teeth clenched.
“I didn’t mean to,” I whine.
“That fucking maniac—” my father snarls. He sounds more like an animal than a man.
Something in the background of the call shatters as Salvatore feathers his tongue against my sensitive nub, his hand sprawled on my low belly to keep me down.
“Has he hurt you?” My father demands.
