Chapter 8
“Get out.”Giancarlo’s tone brokered no argument.
I scrambled for the door, my trembling fingers slipping a few times before I could pull it successfully and got out of the car. The door closed behind me. I walked around the car and stood there. What was I supposed to do now?
Giancarlo’s window rolled down as he continued to stare forward. “The passcode for the door is 1312. Let yourself in.”
The window started to roll up, and I stepped forward. “Wait.”
“What?”
I shouldn’t ask for anything. It’s only going to make him more upset with me.I shook my head and took a step back. Giancarlo didn’t need me ruining his life or getting in the way. It was the one thing I knew I was born to do.
His weighted gaze finally landed on me again. Giancarlo jerked his head toward the house, and I turned on my heels, running up the steps. The doorknob turned with no issues once I typed in the code, and I mentally shook my head.
Before the door could close, the engine revved, and the sound of tires peeling off the pavement resonated. I turned just to watch the taillights of Giancarlo’s car disappear down the road.
The door shut, and I leaned against the thick wood. Everything around me was foreign but familiar in the way it was empty. My stomach knotted. I pushed off the door in search of something to do.
* * *
Nighttime rolled aroundbefore I knew it. I’d looked at and explored every unlocked room in the house. Giancarlo lived like someone out of a magazine; it made the house feel empty in a way.
I made mac and cheese and stared at my bowl as it turned cold. I knew when someone wasn’t coming home. I was used to it. There had been countless dinners that had gone cold, or nights I went hungry because I was out of food.
My head rested on the cool surface of the table as I waited for Giancarlo to return. Time ticked by as the ever-pressing silence weighed down on me, a constant reminder I was alone. There was a lot I could deal with. Being sold, fine. Being yelled at and beaten? I could take that and keep pushing forward. What I couldn’t handle was the endless silence of being alone.
Panic crept up my back, sinking its claws into me the longer I sat there in silence. I jumped up. A shout worked its way up my throat. The sound bounced off the walls, momentarily erasing the ever-pressing quiet. Any noise was better than nothing. I found the radio in the kitchen and turned it on. I used to do this all the time when I stayed with my dad. This was no different.
It’s fine. Besides, it’s better this way.I needed to learn to live on my own. Without anyone. The world tilted, and I aimlessly grabbed at the chair to catch myself. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on the voices coming from the radio.
“I’m not alone.”
For all I knew, Giancarlo would be back tomorrow. There was nothing to panic about. He wasn’t anything like my father. He’d go for a few days, weeks, sometimes months on end, leaving me at home with nothing or no one. Even thinking about that man made my skin crawl and my spine go ramrod straight.
Day two rolled around, and I jumped out of bed smiling. I ran down to the kitchen, expecting to see Giancarlo. When I was greeted with more silence, I turned the tv on in the living room and took in slow, shallow breaths.
I slapped my cheeks and decided right then and there that I’d work on my life once I was free. One thing I wasn’t great at was cooking. My dad never let me cook much. He said if I became too good at it, I might as well cut my dick off and become a girl.
Giancarlo was fantastic at cooking, and he had a dick. I rummaged through the kitchen and found a cookbook. I flipped through it and chose at random. It couldn’t be too hard to learn.
I’d probably have a dish finished and ready to present to Giancarlo when he returned. Maybe it would put him in a better mood.
Day three I spent on the couch and watched every movie I could. I stared at the screen until my eyes burned, and the captions on the bottom of the screen blurred together.
Day four, a knock at the door had me dropping the spatula in my hand, the pancake forgotten as I ran toward the door. My fingers fumbled with the damn lock as I moved as quickly as possible. I yanked it open, a smile plastered on my face.
“Finally, you’re ba—” My mouth snapped shut at the delivery guy standing at the door.
“I need you to sign for this.”
I grabbed the pen automatically and let the disappointment settle in the pit of my stomach. He handed over the package, nodded at me, and left.
I stared outside for a while. I couldn’t help myself as I stepped forward and looked both ways. I held my breath as I listened out for Giancarlo’s car. The cold New York air nipped at my exposed flesh as time ticked by. There was no sign of Giancarlo coming back.
“Where are you?”
Movement to my left made me step further out of the house. I froze on the spot as fear slithered down my spine. There were men in the shadows. Their gazes flickered to Giancarlo’s house. I back-pedaled and slammed the door shut. The lock flipped, and I raced over to the window to see if they were visible from there. One was across the street. He had a newspaper in his hands, but his gaze was on the house.
My hands trembled as I yanked the drapes closed and backed away. It had to be all in my head. I was probably conjuring up crap being left all by myself. My father always said I had an overactive imagination.
I shook out my hands and decided to busy myself until Giancarlo got home. There was a layer of dust on everything. Guess I may as well tidy up. Who wouldn’t want to come home to a clean house?
I forced all my thoughts of loneliness and want out of my head. Instead, I focused on my tasks.
Day five rolled around. There was nothing left to clean, nothing left to distract me. The ceiling gave me no answers, and the thought of getting up to make food made me feel sick to my stomach.
My hand traveled down my torso and wrapped around my cock. Pleasure rippled through me, but it was nothing compared to Giancarlo’s hand.
Or his ass.
Against my will, my mind went to him, and my hand instantly tightened around my cock. I moaned as I stroked my length, picturing Giancarlo doing it instead. He’d tease me about it, and he’d say something obscene about my cock being too freaking big.
My back arched as I chased my hand, but it wasn’t enough. It felt good, but I was suspended in pleasure instead of the mind-numbing ecstasy I’d felt at Giancarlo’s hands.
I shook my head. No, I needed to think of something else. I released my cock and slid off the bed. The tv remote called to me, and I flipped through the channels. Giancarlo had a few porn channels. At first, I’d been too nervous to explore them, but with him being gone for so long, I needed to do something.
Two men appeared on the screen. The smaller of the two was on his knees, sucking the other guy’s cock. The moans that left him were muffled, but the other guy seemed to love it. He rocked forward and placed his hand on the back of the twink’s head.
I watched them intently and wrapped my hand around my length as I fell back into bed, following the twink on the screen. His cock was smaller than mine, but it had to be the same, right?
He rubbed his palm over the head of his cock, and I did the same. My toes curled. I moaned as I did it again.
I played with myself very much like the guy on the screen, except when he bent over and his partner played with his hole. I stopped moving. My breath hitched at the way his face morphed into one of pure pleasure.
His moans echoed around the room. I switched from watching the one who looked most like me to the bigger guy behind him. His fingers worked in and out of the twink with such confidence.
I glanced at my fingers, staring at them before I gazed at the tv. Giancarlo felt so tight around my fingers, sucking me in deeper. My fingers tingled from the memory, and I groaned as need rocked through me. I’d been nothing more than a clumsy mess when I’d been between Giancarlo’s legs, but I wanted to do it again.
My cock ached as I wrapped my hand around my length once more. I rolled around and stroked my cock. The sounds of the tv bled away as my memory took over. Giancarlo under me, the warmth of his flesh, the way he squeezed around my cock.
A cry broke free as my hips jutted forward. My hand failed compared to Giancarlo’s hole, but the fires of desire continued to lap up my spine.
“Please,” I moaned. I wanted Giancarlo there. He”d be able to get rid of this ache inside of me.
My head hit the bed as my arm caved under my weight. My breathing was erratic, not enough air getting to my lungs as I pumped wildly into my hand.
The promise of bliss was right there, taunting me. I whimpered in need as I picked up the pace wanting nothing more than to cum.
Giancarlo’s dark gaze came to mind, and the way his muscles bunched under me flashed before my eyes. My hand tightened. Before I knew it, I was barreling down a tunnel of bliss.
Cum shot out of my cock, soaking into the bedding under me. I stroked my cock through it all before letting my hand fall to the side. I dropped down and groaned.
It hadn’t felt nearly as good. There was no burning need to go again and again until I passed out as it’d been with Giancarlo. I rolled over onto my back and lifted my hand to stare at the sticky mess left behind. A shiver wracked down my spine. My hand dropped.
In the end, the porn hadn’t done much for me. I turned it off as the crescendoing moans grated on my nerves. I’d much rather hear Giancarlo’s deep groans.
On day six, the fridge was empty. My adventures with cooking proved to be a terrible choice. I’d gone through everything in the kitchen, and now I was left with scraps. What little I had made a decent soup. It was probably more thanks to Giancarlo’s spice cabinet than my actual cooking skills.
Masturbating had been fun, but I wasn’t in any rush to do it again. For some reason, it made me feel even lonelier than before. I sat in front of the door and waited until the sun disappeared.
I forced myself to my feet and headed to the room Giancarlo had given me. I plopped down, hoping that tomorrow would be better.
Day seven, my stomach cramped in hunger, and dragged my ass near the front door again. There was nothing else for me to do. The tv was on, but even that wasn’t enough for me. I wrapped a blanket around me as I waited for Giancarlo to come home.
Not having my father breathing down my neck was heaven, but I always missed him when he was gone for too long. Now was no different. I didn’t know Giancarlo all that well, but I wanted him to come home already. It was better than being isolated.
I sat on the floor in front of the door staring at it as my stomach twisted into knots. How many more days will he be gone?What if he never comes back for me?
My lungs burned as I gasped, trying to drag in air. No matter how hard I tried, it didn’t feel like enough. My eyes watered, and I buried my face deeper into my arms.
Please come home.