“Do you like what Daddy is doing to you?”
“Y-yes.”
He chuckled darkly, removed his hand from my body, and began to undress himself, never breaking eye contact with me.
All I could do was lay there in pure greedy longing.
Not knowing how sex would feel with Gianni but craving him just the same.
An arrogant smirk danced on his lips, and it should not have been as seductive as it was.
More heat pooled between my thighs.
He snatched off his tuxedo jacket and he didn’t bother with unbuttoning his shirt. Instead, he ripped it open, sending buttons all over the place, the bed, the floor.
Next, he flung the shirt across the room carelessly and started undoing his pants.
But I was. . .taken aback. . .like. . .caught in a hypnotic trance that I didn’t think anybody would ever be able to wake me up from.
Dear God. He’s so fucking beautiful.
I gasped at the sight of his bare torso, all the rippling of massive muscles and bullet scars here and there.
He’d fought wars with that body and won.
Where there weren’t just scars, there were dark tattoos covering his skin and drawn by an artist that had long gone mad. It was all dark black roses and skulls.
As Gianni stripped off his trousers and kicked them aside, he exposed more scars crisscrossing his body.
They were all silent tales of more battles.
His legs were beefy tree trunks covered in corded muscle. I could fucking hump them and cum.
But his cock.
It was big. . .
Too fucking big.
Oh no. That won’t. . .fit. . .
What had I gotten myself into?
Vito had told me that he was a monster, but never did that bastard say that he had a fucking cock that appeared thicker and longer than an arm.
And it jutted out before me.
Hard and throbbing.
The physical manifestation of his insatiable hunger.
In seconds, he was back over me, and I was terrified out of my mind.
I shook my head. “No. No. It won’t fit.”
“What?”
“It will not fit. This isn’t happening.”
