CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Eleonora
I look up to the star-filled sky taking a deep breath. The night breeze brushes against my skin, cool and soothing, but it does nothing to calm the storm inside me.
His cum is still leaking slowly down my thighs, soaking into the fabric of my panties with every shift of my legs. My ass is tender and raw from his spanking, the sting flaring every time my dress moves against it.
I had no idea I was into spanking until now. I like the reminder of his hands on me. I like knowing I’m marked by him.
I press my thighs together, feeling the soreness between my legs, the delicious ache where he was buried so deep inside me earlier.
I should hate him. He kidnapped me. He’s using me as leverage against my father. He’s everything I’m supposed to fear.
And yet I let him fuck me. I begged him to. I came so hard I saw stars, screaming his name while he spilled inside me.
I shake my head, gripping the banister tighter.
Am I having Stockholm syndrome? I’ve read about it. Victims falling for their captors. It has to be that. There’s no other explanation for why I’m standing here, aching for the man who stole me.
The breeze picks up, lifting strands of the blonde wig. I close my eyes for a second, trying to steady my breathing.
The moment is broken, as an arrogant voice cuts through the night behind me.
“My, my… aren't you beautiful?”
I know that voice, I've heard it one too many times not to recognize it.
I slowly turn around to find Andrea Gallo standing there, mask pushed up slightly on his forehead, a smug smile curling his lips as his eyes rake over me.
Gallo’s mask is more decoration than disguise, sitting high on his forehead like he couldn’t be bothered.
As if to prove my point, he reaches up and removes it completely, revealing that arrogant face I’ve seen in too many family meetings. I can't believe I was going to marry this man. Guess I have Nico to thank for saving me.
Does he recognize me? I doubt it. With the wig and mask, there's no way. I fight to keep my expression neutral, swallowing the fear rising in my throat.
I dart a quick glance toward where Nico was standing just moments ago. He’s now a few feet away, and in deep in conversation with someone, his back partially turned. His men, the ones who were hovering nearby, are nowhere in sight.
“Care for one of these?” Gallo is holding a pack of cigarettes to me.
I shake my head. “I don’t smoke.”
“Ah, my mistake.” He pockets the cigarettes, and steps closer. His eyes drag slowly down my body. “That mask looks exquisite on you. And the dress… you wear it beautifully.”
“Thank you,” I reply stiffly, forcing a polite smile.
He moves even closer, reaching out as if to touch my hair. I step back quickly.
“Don’t,” I say, sharper than I intended.
He chuckles, low and amused. “What’s wrong? Are you here with someone?”
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. “My boyfriend, and he doesn't like it when other men are too close for comfort.”
I nod subtly in Nico’s direction. Gallo follows my gaze, studying him for a moment.
“Hmm, I see,” he murmurs. “How long have you two been together?”
“Six months,” I blurt out without thinking.
