Chapter 9 #3
Her hushed cries went on for several minutes, and I was powerless but to stay still and listen.
Guilt churned in the pit of my gut until the sniffles came to a stop.
When I thought she was asleep, I shifted on my side to stare in the dark at where she was hidden, pulling the sheet down to catch a glimpse of her face.
Her eyes were closed, but I wasn’t sure if she was actually asleep when soft murmurings left her mouth. Maybe she was dreaming. I listened intently, trying to make sense of her ramblings.
“Asshole,” she whispered. No doubt that was aimed at me. “I tried…” My brows furrowed as I moved closer, wondering what the fuck she was blabbering about. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for, Jailbait?” I said softly, stroking a strand of hair out of her face when curiosity got the better of me.
Her eyes didn’t open as she rolled onto her back, and as I hovered over her, I could see she was definitely asleep as her muttering continued. “Failed him…my fault. Papa told me.”
“What did he tell you?” I cooed, hoping she’d spill Georgio’s secrets.
She hummed before forming a semi-coherent reply. “Seduce Milo, or…”
“Or…” I pressed, frustration getting the better of me.
She fidgeted, her head nuzzling against the pillow. “Papa…wants proof.”
My brows furrowed. What the fuck? Did I hear that right? Fucking Bianchi wanted proof that she’d seduced me?
Motherfucker.
“What will happen if he doesn’t get proof, Jailbait?”
I didn’t think she’d answer. She lay still for several long seconds before she hummed again. “Rafe…he’ll…hurt Rafe.”
Fuck my life.
Bianchi was one fucked up cunt.
I rolled onto my back, glaring up at the canopy long after Sofia’s mutterings faded away, replaced by deep, relaxed breaths. I didn’t know why I was so bothered. If Bianchi wanted to hurt his son, that was on him. Yet, with memories of my father beating me, I couldn’t switch my brain off.
Minutes ticked by. Maybe even an hour, and all I could do was replay the muttered words my new wife had spoken.
The longer I lay staring at the canopy with the memory of the fear and panic in Rafe’s eyes when Georgio found him earlier, the more I knew I couldn’t just ignore the predicament I’d found myself in.
Instead of getting the last joint from my jacket pocket and smoking it to silence the chaotic thoughts in my head, I settled on a plan of action, jumping out of bed before I could change my mind.
Rummaging through my clothes, I found my switchblade that I always kept with me and moved back over to the bed.
I flicked on the little lamp on the table and yanked the covers off Sofia, unable to stop my gaze from drifting over her body, and once again, my cock paid far more attention than I would have liked.
She was still wearing those damn panties, her legs spread just wide enough for me to see her cunt peeking out. Not thinking twice, I cut the material of her panties and tore them away from her body. She shifted slightly, her legs widening, but she didn’t wake.
Thank fuck.
It would have taken a lot of explaining why I was hovering over her with a knife in one hand, her ripped panties in the other, and my cock tenting my boxers.
I moved onto my knees, settling between her legs, and tearing my gaze away from her glistening pussy.
With the switchblade held firmly in one hand, I opened my palm and sliced the knife across it, pressing deeply enough to open the flesh, but not enough to cause me too much damage.
A curse left me at the slight burn, and blood bubbled up through the gash.
Tossing the blade aside, I leaned down between Sofia’s legs and swiped my palm against the bedsheets, smearing my blood.
Once I was done, I squeezed the wound, and more blood seeped out.
I pressed my palm against the inside of Sofia’s thighs, my cock taking notice of how close my fingers were to her pussy.
Sitting back on my haunches, I admired the mess, my cock straining with the need for relief. The mess almost looked perfect, but something was missing. Something I knew I had to do to make my plan work.
Tugging my boxers down, my cock sprang free. I wrapped my bloodied hand around the shaft, the piercing at the top of my cock glistening under the dim light from the pre-cum already gathered there.
And for the first time in over a year, I moved my hand up and down my length, my eyes glued on the pretty pussy in front of me, begging me to slam into it.
Of course, I resisted. Even if it wasn’t Sofia sprawled out in front of me, I wasn’t a fucking rapist. I liked my women willing participants. I liked to hear their moans and groans as I drove into them and brought them to an intense climax.
As my movements quickened, I closed my eyes, allowing make-believe images to dance in my head of what it would feel like to slam into Sofia’s tight hole.
To feel my cock tear through her barrier and coat my shaft in her blood.
I imagined her brows furrowed and her teeth biting her lip as I pounded into her, the two of us groaning as we chased our release.
My balls tightened. I hadn’t come in so long, and it was taking me less than a few minutes to reach that point of no return. With another few strokes, my cock exploded, thick come flying from the tip and landing in the bloody patch, while several streaks coated Sofia’s pussy and thighs.
Drained, I leaned back and admired the mess I had made, ignoring the ridiculous notion that one day, the blood staining the sheets really would be from me claiming Sofia’s perfect pussy.