AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Let me know if you fall off and break your necks. I have to get back to the other two before they manage to scheme up something I won't like."
Left alone to deal with his escaped pet, Bobby made his way back up to the room he had chosen as his own. He wished he'd chosen the basement. Much harder to crawl out onto the roof if you're in the basement.
He hoped she'd reconsidered fucking about on the roof and come in of her own accord, but she had not. The room was still empty, and the curtains were still open, fluttering rebelliously in the breeze.
Bobby stuck his head out the window. There she was, sitting damn near at the edge of the roof as if she was considering leaping off.
"Don't kill yourself!"
"I'm not going to. You were threatening to kill me, though, remember?"
Bobby gritted his teeth.
"Come down!"
Gemma looked over at him and then looked away again. The wind was blowing through her curls in a wild way, making them obscure her face from time to time, but not the reckless grin which only widened when she saw how annoyed he was.
Bobby cursed to himself and then out loud for good measure.
"Get the fuck off the roof!"
"No! You get the fuck off the roof!"
He wasn't on the roof. Yet. But he could already tell he was going to end up there. Hunting down this loose female prisoner was his job.
"I don't like heights. I swear to god, if you make me get up there, I'm going to make you regret the day you were born." He didn't have to try to snarl threateningly. He was pissed the fuck off.
"Oh god, Bobby. It's 2021. Everybody regrets the day they were born."
Fucking hell. How could someone be so cheerful and so fucking dark at the same time?
He didn't know. He didn't care. He just wanted her off the fucking roof before she fell off it in some silly girly way, probably laughing about how fun it was to fall from things.
He was going to have to go out there.
Resolving not to look down, he clambered out the window and spider-crawled his way across the roof toward her. The only saving grace of the whole shitty situation was that she didn't try to run. He managed to grab her by the hair, and by the arm, in case she fell, and her hair turned out not to be load-bearing. The last thing he needed was a captive squished on the drive. That would piss Angelo off.
Gemma wriggled the whole time and made complaining sounds in the way women did when they felt they were being handled too roughly but really weren't being handled nearly roughly enough.
He dragged her through the window bodily and tossed her on the carpet. He was panting with the effort of hefting her around, hissing through gritted teeth, furious that he'd had to risk life and limb to get this goddamn brat who didn't matter at all.
He was not the only one winded. Gemma was also out of breath and caught off guard by the physicality of his rescue. She got onto her hands and knees in an effort to get up, which suited him fine. He grabbed her by the hair at the back of her neck again, whipped her skirt up, and set to whipping her ass in turn.
His hand met her underwear-clad ass twice before he yanked her panties up into the crevice of her cheeks and exposed both of her cheeks. She made some gasping scream he barely paid any attention to and focused on slapping her ass until it was bright red.
"Don't. You. Ever. Do. That. Again," he hissed, spanking her hard with every word.
He did not know what to make of this. He did not know what to think of himself, disciplining some wriggling, wailing brat for acting recklessly. He was Bobby Vitali, the terror of New York and most vicious captive of Angelo Vitali. He was the troublemaker. The rebel. The one who got seven shades of hell beaten out of him. He did not spank naughty girls to teach them a lesson. Except now, he did.
"Ow," Gemma pouted, rubbing her ass. She had a big, round, soft behind. The kind that was made for punishing. Up until recently, Bobby hadn't really considered women as well, anything. Then one woman had blown their shared world open, and left him curious, if not exactly craving female company.
"You don't know the shit that can happen to you here," he said, standing over her, his legs long and statue-like above her collapsed form. She was still on the ground, sort of slumped like Rubens painting. "That was nothing. You keep acting up, and it will be the beginning."
"What do you care? Aren't you the big, bad torturer? Don't you get extra points if I fall off a roof? Maybe Angelo will be impressed with how brutal and cruel you are?"
