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I know he likes seeing me like this, I know his cock is hard, his desire racing just like mine. He just holds me as I regain my breath.
“When are you going to get it over with?” I whisper into the dark around us. “We both know you’re going to take it. What are you waiting for?”
Salvatore chuckles deeply against my shoulder, as if he knows something I don’t.
“I’m waiting for you to be ready.”
“Oh.”
I didn’t expect that, thrown off balance by the admission.
“It’s not kindness,” he clarifies. I should have known better than to think it was. His hand moves down again, and for the first time, Salvatore pushes two thick fingers inside of me. I cry out as he stretches me with them, the ache sweet and painful. I instinctively push his hand away, too over-spent, the orgasm leaving me raw and sensitive.
He shows me his fingertips, where they shine from having them buried them in me.
“You’re not ready to take a cock yet. Not mine, anyway.”
I’m not sure what that means, but I know better than to assume it has anything to do with me. I’m on Salvatore’s infinite time now. Sexual purgatory. Whenever he decides it will happen, it will.
“Are you getting desperate for it already?” he asks, low and teasing. “Do you want me to break you and fill up your cunt that badly?”
I don’t answer him, but between my legs, the soft, treacherous throbbing does.
8
Contessa
Even kidnapping can become routine.
I pass the days with Ava, who helps me spend Salvatore’s money on expensive shoes and luxury makeup and other bullshit I try to use to ruin his credit score. No matter what I’ve asked for, she’s yet to turn down a single request. Apparently, Salvatore really does mean it: as long as it doesn’t violate his rules, I can have whatever I want. If only I knew what to ask for.
I have a growing collection of books to pass the time, and they even give us a squat, old-school TV with a thick body and round screen that sometimes gives a static shock if you touch it.
Ava and I fondly name it The Beast. It gets only a handful of channels and is mostly good for filling the silence with background noise.
Out of all the things Ava brings me, the most important one—besides panties—is art supplies.
If I have to pass the endless hours, I may as well pass them by doing something I’m passionate about. I’m allowed paint and soft pencils, though Ava has to sharpen them for me each night. My art makes me feel like myself, even if it doesn’t make the hours any shorter.
At night, Salvatore and I have dinner.
For dessert, Salvatore has me.
Routine.
Until today, at 3:00 PM, several hours before he’s supposed to arrive, Salvatore opens my door and informs me that there’s going to be a family dinner, and that I need to be dressed for the occasion.
He adds, “wear this,” and leaves a small box on the dresser.
The door closes before I have time to question or argue.
In the box, I find an engagement ring. The sheer size of it stuns me before the implication can, my eyes blowing wide—as if that is the only way to see all of it at once. I can’t imagine the cost, the pristine, thick diamond set against simple, delicate coils of white gold.
And Salvatore has left it here, with me.
It burns in my hands. I know it’s a prop, just a message. Something to appease the family.
No matter how beautiful it is, I don’t want to play along and act complicit in any of this. I put it back in the box. The shine catches my eye even from across the room, so I go back and snap the lid shut for good measure.
