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“I’m sorry, Sir.” Every word I say is punctuated with a moan. My breaths have turned into hitched gasps.
“It seems to me like you want to be punished.” Matteo spanks me one more time, making me cry out.
How many more times will he do that? I don’t know if I’m anticipating it out of apprehension or desire now. Everything blends together—the pleasure, the pain.
My head spins as Matteo fucks me harder and faster, his fingers digging into my hips, not even stopping when he spanks me again. I stick my ass higher in the air, pushing myself back as far as I can, offering myself to him.
“You’ll walk around with your pussy and ass sore because of me tomorrow,” Matteo says in between frantic breaths. “You’ll feel me inside you as you go about your day. You’ll get wet thinking about me, even when it’s inappropriate, but you won’t be able to help yourself.”
I grasp the bedsheets with my fingers as I lose control of my body, shaking and shuddering as Matteo fills me up with his cock and butt plug. I shatter, my pussy clenching around him.
Matteo keeps fucking me with no mercy, floating me from one orgasm to the next until I’m just a shaking heap of submissive goo on the bed.
When I finally come down from my peak, Matteo is no longer inside me, and his cum is leaking out of me, dripping down my thighs. I was so wrapped up in my climax I was no longer aware of what was going on.
Matteo caresses my skin as he removes my restraints one by one, whispering unintelligible words as his touch heals me. He makes me feel loved, treasured, even after all the dirty, depraved things he’s done to me.
“You’re beautiful,” he says when he takes off my blindfold and lies down next to me. As he strokes my hair, I let my mind float to the clouds. I hear his voice from a great distance. “Is it okay if I stay over?”
A smile tugs up my lips. Why shouldn’t he stay over? Why wouldn’t I want him with me all the time? “Sure.”
Matteo
“What is this I hear about you getting someone to clean up your house?” Dad asks from the other end of the phone line.
Grace’s bedroom door closes with a soft click. She’s asleep now, and I don’t want to wake her up just because my dad is calling. The poor woman looks like she hasn’t had a good night’s rest in years.
“Jesus, Dad. Why are you so interested in what I do with my house?” I turn on the light in the living room and pace the floor.
“It’s unusual, and you know I pay attention to unusual things.” His voice is gruff as usual. “I wasn’t spying on you, if that’s what you’re implying. It’s just that your mom mentioned it during dinner, and we haven’t spoken in a while.”
It has been weeks since I left home. It took me a while to find Grace, but the wait has been worth it.
“Are you coming home soon?” he asks.
That depends on how long it takes for Grace to agree to come home with me. “Yeah. Give me a little more time.”
“You’ve spent enough time away from home,” he says. “You know we’re in the midst of a war. You can’t just take off whenever you want.”
“We’ve always been in the midst of a war.” I’ll have to admit that things got way worse when Grace disappeared, though.
An exasperated sigh. “Look, I didn’t call you just to tell you I know about the cleaning lady in your house. I have bad news.”
My muscles tense. I’d almost forgotten what this feels like.
I’ve been spending so much time, either playing the family man with Grace or thinking about playing the family man with Grace, that I’d almost lost sight of what I really am. What my family needs me to be.
“What bad news?” I ask, all business.
Dread coils in my stomach, infusing me with the strength I need to be the shark, the human killing machine, the avenging force to be feared.
“It’s Franco,” comes my father’s voice. “He got hurt. It’s bad.”
Fuck. Franco is one of my most trusted men. The quiet guy who I could always rely on to do his job right. One of the few I’d trust with my life.
It was Franco who dragged me and Hector to the club that night I landed back in town. He saw Grace too that night. I remember the three of us freaking out over what a coincidence it was that Grace was the woman I was to marry.
Franco isn’t just a foot soldier or a bodyguard. He’s a friend.
“How bad?”
“He’s in a coma. They still don’t know if he’s going to make it through the night,” my dad says.
