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“I have plenty of value,” I snap. “Even if he hasn’t responded yet, he will.” I’m sure of it. He needs me for the deal with Pavone. I know for a fact that Pavone doesn’t want my sister.
At least, I’m pretty sure.
“I’ll have much less value if you let your men rape me.”
Now Angelo bursts into laughter. “How would he even know? He’s not selling you as a pure maiden, is he? Will Pavone check the sheets on your wedding night?” He closes the distance between us and draws a hand up my thigh, stopping just short of the open zipper. “One man, five men, one hundred men… It’s not going to make a difference to Pavone, in the end.”
“My father gouged a man’s eyes out for even looking at me wrong,” I retort, trying to hang on to my last strings of defiance, trying not to let myself panic. “You don’t want me telling him you let your men have me like I’m some common whore.”
“Hey, Angel, move a bit to the right. You’re blocking her face,” Saint orders.
I have to turn this situation around quickly before it goes against me. Daddy isn’t here to save me, and threats of his behavior aren’t doing shit to discourage them. There’s a part of me that remembers I don’t evenwantto go back to him, but it’s the best defense I have. But not the only line of defense.
Which means it’s up to me, and I only have one thing to leverage.
“I’ll fuck you,” I blurt out. I touch my cheek where Angelo had hit me, silently cursing him out, but I don’t say the words aloud. “All three of you.”
Angelo’s hand on my thigh tightens for a second. “We can fuck you anyway. Tie you down and gag you while we pound into your loose cunt.”
“Or we can just knock you out and have our fun that way,” Saint says, smirking as he fiddles with the camera. “I’ll even make you come, just like I did last time.”
Last time?
Sons of fucking bitches. No wonder I’d woken up with stiff panties. They’d jacked off on me, and apparently they’d gone the extra mile when I’d been unconscious the last time. My skin crawls. What exactly did they do to me?
“We don’t need your consent to fuck you,” Saint says, jabbing a finger in my direction.
“But it would be a better fuck if you had it,” I tell him, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. “I’ll suck you. I’ll give you my ass. I’ll lie there and play dead if that’s what you want. I’d rather you three than… everyone.”
Angelo instantly says, “Pass. I can find loose whores in any strip club.”
Fuck, I thought Angelo would be the easiest of them to persuade. He wasn’t subtle in how much he wanted me, but I’d miscalculated how much of it was his fucking virginity kink.
“Oh, come on,” Saint wheedles, heading out from behind the camera and grabbing my hair, pulling my face up to look at him. He leans down and kisses me hard, and I reflexively open up and kiss him back. He groans. “Yeah. She’s offering, Angel. We don’t have to go to a nasty strip club to find some STD-ridden slut. We have a perfectly good little whore right here, and we don’t even have to pay.”
I don’t know what I can say to encourage them more. Angelo still looks pissed off, and Victor… I instinctively lean closer to Saint to escape Victor’s piercing gaze. He’s creeping me out.
Victor reaches into his pocket. I’m worried it’ll be a knife or a gun, but he tosses something on the floor between Saint and Angelo.
It’s a whole pack of condoms. Their threat obviously wasn’t an empty one.
“You have no idea how diseased Lucia is or isn’t.”
It’s demeaning as hell to have these men discuss me like I’m some piece of property, but if I protest now, I’ll undo the small chance I have of not being gang raped.
Victor sets his cool gaze on me. “Let’s see how serious your offer is. I want you to fuck Angelo and Santino right now.”
This can’t be real. I can’t be offering myself to three men to get out of having to fuck God knows how many. But it’s on my terms. I cling to that fact like it’s a lifeline. At least this way, it’s my choice.
And really, it’s not like Angelo and Saint, Santino, whatever his name is, are ugly. I’d rather fuck one of them than Pavone any day, even if the man is almost as attractive as the two of them. These two are terrible, but Pavone is much, much worse.
“All right,” I say, much more calmly than I feel. “How do you want me?” I lick my lips, trying to look sultry, but my heart is threatening to hammer out of my chest. I’m terrified, but I have to do this.
“Oh, dibs!” Saint immediately pulls on my hair and forces my head up so he can kiss me again. I fight against the instinct to struggle. At least Saint is a halfway decent kisser, and I can relax into the familiar act. I should remember this for the future too: Saint likes kissing. The sensation of his tongue piercing on my palate is interesting—a bit ticklish, but not bad.
His other hand is gentle as it creeps underneath my—his—shirt. He settles it against the underside of my breast and begins rubbing my nipple with his thumb.
This is okay. It’s sort of nice, maybe, right up until the mattress dips and Angelo’s thick arms grab my shoulders and pull me away from Saint.
