AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When his fingers trail higher up to my clit, I go stock still. If he decides to pinch me there—
Those fingers remain gentle though, rubbing in slow circles. My mind is so confused, but my body is happy. My thighs start to feel even stickier, and I unconsciously start grinding into his hand.
I stop when I realize what I’m doing, but my face is burning even hotter. Flashbacks of the last time taunt me, and I can practically hear Elena’s voice pleading in my ear.
“I want to go outside,” I blurt out, straightening and trying not to sound as breathless as I feel.
His movements stop, and he looks me in the eyes. “Outside? Why would I let you go out? You’ve proven yourself quite untrustworthy.”
Because I desperately need him to stop touching me. Because I desperately need to get beyond these four walls, away from that fucking mattress and away from all of this. I need a break, just for a little while, or I’m going to start screaming.
“You can babysit me,” I retort. “You’re good at watching me, after all.”
“I can watch you here, too,” Victor responds. He starts massaging my clit again, and I gasp sharply.
My knees buckle, and it takes me a moment to gather my thoughts. “I can give you information,” I tell him.
His hand stills, which is both a blessing and a curse. I’m so close. But I don’t want to come. I don’t want to give him that satisfaction.
“What kind of information?” Victor asks.
“About my father. Surely you have questions,” I say, trying to hold myself together. I’m quivering, torn between this negotiation and wanting to justcomealready. “I can answer them.”
He laughs and moves his hand away entirely, much to my relief—and dismay. “You expect me to believe thatyouhave any relevant information? I hate your father, but I don’t believe he’d ever trust any woman, not even his daughter, with business.”
At that, I roll my eyes. “Do you really think it’s that clear-cut? That I’m so stupid he’d have totellme anything? I have eyes and ears. I can put things together. He doesn’t have to trust me for me to know valuable information.”
Victor puts more space between us, and for a few seconds I feel entirely unmoored, my legs too unsteady to stand on their own. But I get it together. I won’t let him see me collapse just because of his hands.
He reaches into his pocket and says, “Fine. Put this on, first.”
I don’t know what I was expecting. A shirt? Skirt? Panties?
It’s none of those.
Victor is holding up a fucking pink dog collar.
“You want me to put…thaton?” I ask, dumbfounded. Surely he doesn’t actually expect me to wear a collar at all, let alone to put one around my own neck.
Even though Victor’s pants are tented, he looks calmer than earlier. “You want me to trust that you have relevant information and take you outside? Then put it on.”
I don’t know why a collar is supposed to make him trust me more, but I snatch it from his grasp and quickly secure it around my throat. “There? That better? That make you trust me now that I look like a poodle?”
“Of course not. I just wanted to see you put it on.” He reaches into his other pocket, and this time he pulls a leash out. He lifts it toward me. “Clip this onto the collar.”
For a moment, I see red. Of course he just wanted to see me put it on, and now he wants me to add a leash to the collar? What kind of fantasies is he hiding in that head of his? “Is this your kink?” I ask, even as I take it and clip it on, glaring at him all the while.
He gives the collar a brief tug, forcing me to lean in his direction. “Well? What information do you have for me?”
“Outside first,” I say firmly. If I’m going to be humiliated, I want to at least be embarrassed under the sun. A few days ago, I’d have wanted to die before being paraded about in front of the guards wearing nothing at all. But I’m going so stir crazy that I’m willing to be seen like this if it means getting sun on my face and some space away from here.
Without another word, Victor heads for the door. I worry that he’s going to leave me here after all, but he tugs the leash again, and this time I either have to heel for him or I choke. I follow him out the door, almost giddy with excitement to breathe fresh new air.
He leads me up the stairs, and I try to pretend the guards aren’t staring. They’ve seen it before, and none of them would dare touch me after what happened to Freddie.
That doesn’t stop them from looking, though, and I’m completely self-conscious knowing Angelo and Victor have left their marks on me. Are the guards looking closely enough to see? Do they think I’m being beaten? I can’t decide which is worse, the idea that they’re marking me on purpose or that I’m doing something to earn getting hit.
They’re probably used to the latter. I’ve seen how mafia men are, and they aren’t always shy about pulling their punches—with men or with women.
