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The strong scent of smoke burns my nose.
Cigar smoke, like the ones grandfather used to use. And him, that man. No, that monster… Even as I stir from my sleep, I know not to think of his name. I think of him only as one of the shadows in the dark I don’t want to remember.
It’s the smoke that conjures up the memory in my mind of the large Cuban cigar dangling between thick fingers.
I roll onto my back and turn my gaze to the man standing by my window, basking in the morning sunlight.
Vincent.
He’s standing there smoking a cigar. He’s wearing a tank top that shows off his massive biceps and thick tattooed forearms. His hair is ruffled like he just got of bed, but the alert look in his eyes suggests he’s been up for a while.
The sight of him startles me and makes my heart flutter at the same time. This is the first I’ve seen of him since Friday. I sit up straight away.
We’re staring at each other. Seconds pass, and I think back to last night. Normally, he would have said something to me by now, so I wonder if he knows I was watching him in that room before he closed the door.
He puts out the cigar and leaves it on the side plate Marguerite left me yesterday with cookies.
“We’re making an early start,” he announces. There’s an edge of annoyance in his voice that suggests I’m right. He might not have seen me, but he sensed my presence last night, and he’s not happy about it.
“Does that mean I get to ask you if I can call my father?” I’m pushing my luck, but I want to get in my request before something happens to piss him off.
“No. It doesn’t mean that. You won't be speaking to him today.”
“Why not? Why can’t I speak to him for a minute just to see if he’s okay?” I bite the inside of my lip, but then a dark thought hits me. What if he’s so adamant that I don’t speak to Dad because something bad happened? It’s not impossible.
Vincent is a mobster. He’s a mafia boss, and I’ve been here spreading my legs for him, trusting that he was going to keep his end of the deal.
“You hurt him, didn’t you?” I ask, unable to keep the shaking out of my voice.
“No.” He eyes me dangerously.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth if I have no proof?”
“Bellezza, it’s wise not to push me this morning. Not when I’m already pissed.”
I hold my tongue on my next words.
“Take your clothes off,” he husks, and I narrow my eyes.
“I didn't know we'd be starting the morning like this.”
He comes over to me and lowers to sit on the bed next to me. He reaches forward and fills his palm with my right breast, feeling me up through the silky camisole top Lydia bought for me.
He keeps eye contact when he moves away the cloth and lowers his mouth to suck on my nipple. It’s brief but effective. The pull between my thighs makes my pussy clench with the anticipation of having him inside me.
Heat climbs down my neck and spreads over my body as he continues to suck.
When he pulls away, it’s like that heat leaves my body.
There’s a devilish grin on his face. Today, it has an air of menace in it that shows he knows how helpless I am.
“As long as you’re here, you belong to me. Mine. If I want to start my day with your tits in my mouth and my cock in your pussy, I will.”
The crassness in his words makes my cheeks sting, and I have to remind myself of the strategy I came up with last night.
Do as I’m told. Do it to keep the peace with the hope that I get what I want, which is to get out of here.
He gives my breasts a gentle squeeze, and his smile widens. “Take your clothes off.
