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“No,” I lie, trying to keep at least this last truth to myself, but he won't let me, of course he won't let me.
“Lie to me again, Gabriella, and I will punish you. Did they hurt you?” He repeats the question, forcing me to submit to his will.
“Yes,” I confess and, even after everything, pleasing Vittorio increases my pleasure to the point where I feel my pussy contract, announcing that I'm about to cum again. He remains silent, letting this truth echo between us as his hips work tirelessly with the sole goal of destroying me.
“Then have no doubt, my girl, they will pay for this.” And with that statement, my body and soul surrender, totally and completely, once again to the Don.
His hips move back completely, and one of his hands leaves my skin. I watch, drunk with him, as Vittorio cums all over my pussy, reaffirming with his cum what his words said.
He unties the knots at my ankles before throwing himself back onto the bed and, shortly after, pulling me onto his body, controlling my limbs with the same expertise with which he manipulates my will. We stare at each other, panting, until he breaks the silence.
“I didn't publish those photos, Gabriella.” I blink, caught completely off guard by the statement, and I'm even more surprised when a laugh scratches Vittorio's throat. “I would never share so much of you voluntarily,” he murmurs, as if that part wasn't dedicated to my ears. “I burned every damn newspaper, every damn magazine, Gabriella, and made whoever was responsible for them pay. Why?” His hand reaches my hair, freeing my face from the curtain of dark strands that stood between it and the Don's eyes.
“Because I'm yours,” I repeat and my heart accelerates without caring that, with his chest pressed against mine, Vittorio will be able to feel it.
“Because you are mine.”
***
“I didn't know you drew,” Vittorio says when my eyes are almost closing, a little after the middle of the day.
His hands run up and down my back, rocking me in a caress that almost works like a lullaby. I barely even got out of bed today and I'm already ready to sleep again.
Last night wasn't exactly a good night's sleep. The hours that passed between my arrival atSignoraAnna's tea party and the moment I finally slept were intense in every second. I kept asking myself, again and again, how I would deal with Vittorio after all that.
That he didn't arrive at his usual time was both a frustration and a relief. I missed him, his touch, his body, his smell, all of him, and I reproached myself for that. I shouldn't want him so much.
That's why, when I woke up, hours ago, and noticed his presence in my room, I pretended I was still asleep. I was hoping he would get tired and just leave. It was likely that the next time I came out of my room I still wouldn't know how to face him, but at least I would’ve gained a few hours.
Obviously, the Don refused to follow any script other than the one he wrote himself. Everything Vittorio has told me about recent events has rented an entire apartment in my head and refuses to cut me any slack, even now, when my eyes are heavy with exhaustion.
My heart shouldn't see his lack of participation in the photo episode as permission to feel comfortable with this crazy dependence it's developed on Vittorio, but he stares at me, and I don't know how to stop him from doing that.
“It helps me pass the time,” I reply and yawn.
“It seems like more than a hobby to me. You are good!” I force my eyes open to look at him, feeling the need to see the expression Vittorio has on his face when he says these words. When my gaze fixes on his face, I find nothing to contradict them.
“Thank you,” I murmur softly.
“You are welcome.”
CHAPTER 51
________
Gabriella Matos
“Is this really necessary?” I ask, feeling my entire body sweat, especially the palms of my hands. The feeling I have is that the knee-length navy blue dress is clinging to my body with every movement I make. “She won't like this, sir.” Apprehension gnaws on my stomach as if it were a delicious sweet cookie.
“Yes, it is. And no, she won't like it. That's why it's necessary,” Vittorio confirms my certainty, holding my hand as he leads us down the stairs.
“Maybe...” I dare to suggest, stopping my steps, and he turns to me.
“Are you telling me no?” The fire in his eyes makes me clench my thighs, even though I'm completely sore after we've spent the whole day in bed.
The question is not asked randomly, Vittorio knows exactly what impact these words would have on my body and mind. There's this game that neither of us ever admitted we were playing, but it started on the night of theVendemmia. He gives me orders; I obey without questioning or thinking about it and I love it. I just love the fact that I never tell him no, and it's the determination to remain undefeated that moves my lips.
“I'm not, sir.”
