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Every thrust into her pussy is a testament to my ownership, a declaration of my claim over her. I whisper into her ear that she is unequivocally mine, now and forever. Christine only moans, pushing back for more as I touch every inch of her that I can reach.
“One of these days, I’m going to leave a permanent mark on you,” I tell her. “In the form of a child growing inside you. When your belly is swollen with my baby, every man will know that you are a kept woman—that you belong to me.”
Christine’s hands on the wall turn into fists. “Nic,” she pleads warily. “I’m on birth control.”
I surge into her, filling her once more. The water washes away my seed, but she can feel it inside her. I pump back and forth until every last drop has been spilled into her. “Not for long,” I purr into her ear. “I told you what having sex with me meant.” The sooner she’s carrying my child, the sweeter the victory of having her.
As she pulls away from me and turns around, harsh, angry tears spill down her cheeks. “This isn’t fair,” Christine whimpers.
“Life isn’t fair, sweetheart.” I lean forward to lick away the tears, tasting fresh water and salty bitterness. A smile plays on my lips as I close the gap between us. “Cheer up, buttercup. Daddy’s going to take care of you from now on. You, your sweet little pussy, and the new family we’re going to create. I promise that you have my full attention from here on out.”
Chapter 23
Christine
Ifell asleep in Niccolo’s bed last night. I don’t remember why.
His menacing words in the shower sent shivers down my spine, causing my bones to rattle like a warning. I drifted into a fitful slumber, fingers tracing the outline of the Nexplanon rod buried in my arm, desperately trying to recall when it was implanted. The uncertainty gnawed at me as I struggled to remember if it needed to be replaced in three months or fifteen—keenly aware of the vast difference between the two timelines and the consequences that would follow if I remembered incorrectly.
But in truth, I couldn’t have pried myself from Niccolo’s clutches even if I wanted to.
It’s something I could never confess to my stepfather, or anyone else for that matter, but last night was the first time someone else had ever made me experience an orgasm. All these years, I’ve been taking care of myself and convincing myself that it’s fine for high school boys not to know how to please a woman. But last night, while Niccolo’s face was buried between my legs in the Red Dawg bathroom, it dawned on me that there are menout there who want their partners to feel just as much pleasure as they do.
Even if I didn’t want to go back home with Niccolo, I would have. It was like being trapped under a spell. I’d had two orgasms in that bathroom, and my pussy was leading me around on a leash, willing to follow the Devil into the dark if it meant getting a third.
But his threat holds a palpable sense of terror. I want to have children one day, maybe even with Niccolo, but I can’t consider having them before I finish college. I have years of studying ahead of me, over a decade of schooling if my stepfather’s route to get his Ph. D can be replicated. Having a child now would make that exponentially harder.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The sound of pounding jolts me from my reverie.
Niccolo shoots up, his hair in disarray. “So help me God if that’s Dante,” he swears.
My eyes bulge in alarm, and my stomach turns over. “Your brother can’t find me here.” I start scrambling out of the bed, taking the sheet with me to wrap around my naked body.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Another round of knocks forces a curse from Niccolo’s lips as he climbs out of bed. “Pounding on the door like they’re the damn police,” he mumbles. “I’ll call the fucking cops on them. I don’t care if they’re my brothers.”
Oh, god. I can’t have the entire Terlizzi clan finding me here. “I have to get dressed.” I can already feel Dante’s steely, scrutinizing gaze and Salvatore’s smug, all-knowing smirk. “I’llhide in my room. I don’t have to come out. No one even has to know I’m here.”
I look up to catch Niccolo rolling his eyes and mumbling in Italian under his breath. “It’s fine,dolcezza,” he says after a moment. “Eventually, they’re going to know about us.”
Not if there’s nothing to find out. If I leave today, change my name, and move to a different country, I’ll never have to see Niccolo again or tell the Terlizzis anything. It may seem a bit extreme, but it’s definitely a rational choice.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
“Go get dressed,” he recommends in a sharp tone. “I’ll come get you whenever my brothers leave.”
I hurry to my room down the hall from his. Luckily, it’s in the opposite direction of the main staircase. The stained glass front door is pretty to look at but entirely see-through if someone puts their face right up to it.
Niccolo is yelling as he makes his way toward the door. “I’m coming! Jesus. Cut that shit out.” But the banging only gets louder.
As I fling the sheet to the floor and search for clothes, I hear voices downstairs. I look out my bedroom window as I pull on a shirt and see a dark blue convertible in the driveway that doesn’t belong to one of Niccolo’s brothers. Who shows up at someone’s door at 8:00 am on a Saturday?
The voices increase in volume as I wiggle into a pair of jeans I left behind when I left for Blackmore. “God, these are snug,” I groan. The Freshman Fifteen is real, and I am a victim.
“Fanculo, Terlizzi.” I’m chilled to the bone by the sudden shout. The Italian‘fuck you’echoes through the house and sends a shiver through my body. “I’ll fucking murder you and bury you in your own backyard. Do you hear me?”
