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Chapter Eight
Thalia
My head is spinning like a carousel. Salvatore may be injured, but he’s still much stronger than me. I want to walk away, but I’m trapped against the counter. This is just a game to him; I’m certain of that.
I’m a nobody, an ordinary girl with no money and no way out of this life I’m currently stuck in. He’s a mafia guy, a member of the fearedFaugnofamily. To him, I’m a toy, a temporary distraction before he walks out of here.
I know he finds me attractive. I’m not blind; I’ve seen the way he looks at me with heat in his eyes. I can also feel the hard evidence of that attraction pressed against my ass. If Cara was here, she’d slap me around the head and tell me to stop overthinking things and fuck him already. Guys like Salvatore don’t come around very often. Our lives are too different and we’d have never crossed paths ordinarily.
A sensible woman would probably take everything he’s offering, but despite my laissez faire attitude 99% of the time, I’m afraid. He scares the shit out of me. He’s too handsome,too sexy, tooeverything. If I let him get under my skin, I might never recover. How terrible it would be to always have to compare other men to him. I’m pretty sure no other man I sleep with will ever come close. The rest of my miserable life will be a massive disappointment.
“You’re overthinking this,” he whispers in my ear, his lips trailing a fiery path along the soft skin just below my ear.
Fuck, now he can read my mind!
“Nope, I was justthinkingthat the counter needs cleaning.”
“Liar.”
“And the sink could do with a scrub too,” I babble. I always talk too much when I’m nervous. It’s one of my less appealing traits.
“Ti scoperò, tesoro, e lo adorerai,” he tells me in a low, husky voice. I have no clue what it means but it is sexy-as-fuck.
My resistance falters. I know it is stupid to even consider having sex with Salvatore, but I can’t quite bring myself to push him away. I need this. I needhim. It has been too long since I had sex with a guy. Lester was the last one, and to say the experience was memorable would be a complete lie.
“Scommetto che la tua fica è bagnata per me, pronta per il mio grosso cazzo.”
His left hand moves down from my neck, brushing over my breasts. A small whimper escapes and he rumbles his approval. His erection feels impossibly hard against my backside - and also very large. Which is kind of worrying. The three guys I’ve fucked in my relatively short life have all been average (I’m being generous here). Judging by the thick, hard ridge nudging my ass cheeks, Salvatore is definitely not average.
The thought of being split open by his huge cock makes me hot and scared all at the same time. My pussy weeps withneed and my thin cotton panties are soaked with arousal. Can he smell me? I feel like he probably can.
God, will he want to go down on me? I should have done some landscaping. I hope he prefers his women au-naturel. I trim but I don’t wax. Can’t afford it for one thing, and for another, that shit is fucking painful.
Thick fingers dip under the waistband of my shorts and I freeze. Salvatore feels me tense up and he nuzzles my neck.
“Calm down,tesoro,I’m not going to hurt you.” His lips tease my neck while his fingers slip lower and delve inside my panties. “Fuck, you’re soaking,” he growls. When he brushes over my clit, I nearly collapse. “That’s it,” he croons. “Let me make you feel good.” If I wasn’t pressed up against the counter right now, I’d be a puddle on the floor. My legs can barely support my weight.
It’s clear Salvatore knows what he’s doing. He’s the virtuoso and I’m his instrument. Together, we will make glorious music.
His fingers drag through my slick folds and dip inside my hole, pressing against the spongy walls of my pussy and bringing long-neglected nerve endings back to life in a maelstrom of pleasure. The intrusion and sense of divine fullness force a moan from my lips.
This is too much. I can’t breathe. Literally. My chest feels so tight I’m genuinely concerned I’m having a heart attack. I suppose there are worse ways to die. Death by finger fucking. It has a certain ring to it.
Of course, he doesn’t stop there. Two fat fingers leisurely fuck my pussy while his thumb draws lazy circles around my clit. The tension builds inexorably, ramping higher and higher. I know it’s only a matter of time before I explode into a million tiny atoms, a cloudburst of sparks in the inky sky.
My breasts ache. There’s a low, unfulfilled need deep in my core. The kitchen fades away until all my senses are focused on what Salvatore is doing to my body.
“Please…” I beg, unsure of what I’m asking for. Do I want to come? Or am I praying for forgiveness before I submit to the dark side? My voice is so throaty and desperate that I don’t recognize myself. This version of me is a complete slut. Frankly, I’m ashamed of her. She’s a thirsty bitch.
“I’m going to make you come and then I will fuck you,piccola.”
All I can do is whimper and shiver against his muscular chest. His bandaged arm curls around me while his free hand brings me to orgasm. It takes less than a minute of expert ministrations before I’m falling apart, sobbing.
“That’s my good girl, now you’re ready for my cock.”
Until now, I was unaware I had a praise kink. His filthy words push me higher and I fly for a few more blissful moments before gently floating back to earth.
By the time my head is back in the game, Salvatore is kissing me. His teeth nip my lips, drawing blood. This is probably a good time to walk away but I can’t move. I want more. A lot more. I wanthim.
