Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Vince
I run my hand through Luna’s silky hair, her head on my chest as I inhale deeply.
Ahh. Apricots and attitude and the intoxicating smell of our sex.
I shouldn’t have kept her up all night, but try telling that to my dick, my fingers, and my tongue. My dick is the appendage most interested at the moment as I pull back the covers, admiring her naked body. She’s a fucking knockout. From her voluptuous breasts to those long legs I had wrapped around my head not an hour earlier, I can’t get enough.
Snaking my hand down, I gently trace her swollen pussy lips with the pads of my fingers. She hasn’t shaved since our first time together, and her pubic hair is starting to grow back out. Strawberry blonde. So fucking delicious; I want to devour every inch of her .
I examine her other lips, so plump, tempting me to steal a kiss. But I won’t. Even this creep has limits.
“Why are you staring at me?” Luna says with sleep in her voice, eyes remaining closed.
“I’m deciding how I’m going to fuck you,” I admit.
Her eyes snap open. “Haven’t you fucked me every way imaginable?”
I click my tongue. “We need to work on your imagination.”
Positioning Luna on her back, I straddle her, wrapping my hand around my dick and giving it a few pumps. She watches with curiosity as I press her tits together, massaging them.
“Mmm,” she says, licking her lips, and jizz leaks from my head, running down my shaft. How I have any bodily fluids left is a testament to how far gone my dick is for this girl.
“Such pretty tits. They’ll look even prettier covered in my cum.”
She whimpers as I thrust forward, sliding my dick between her cleavage. Pushing her tits closer together, I create a nice, tight space for me to fuck. Not as deliciously tight as her cunt, but nothing compares to Luna’s perfect cunt.
“How am I going to come?” Luna asks, eyes heavy with desire.
“Greedy little thing,” I chastise. “Daddy’s going to come, I’m going to feed you, and then your sweet little cunt is going to feed me.”
“Mmm, yes.” She moans, her body writhing so beautifully beneath me.
I whisper filthy words in Italian as I fuck her tits, the delicious smell of our sex permeating the room. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.” I switch over to English, and her face flushes at the compliment. “And what do you say?”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“See, you can be a good girl. ”
Luna flips me off, and I snap my teeth at her finger. She yelps in surprise, jerking her hand down.
I laugh, fucking her tits as my orgasm builds higher and higher. My balls tingle as I grab my dick in my hand, jerking it roughly. “Fuck, Luna, I’m coming.” I grunt as hot ribbons of cum land on her tits and stomach.
Taking a moment to catch my breath, I roll off her and trace my fingers through my handiwork. I want to burn this image into my memory: Luna in my bed, desire and annoyance in her eyes, covered so beautifully in my cum.
“I seem to remember a promise of you feeding me,” she sasses.
I feed her my finger covered in cum, and she eagerly laps it up. Before I get hard— again —I hop up and walk to the bathroom, returning with a wet rag. Her eyes drift closed as I gently clean my cum from her soft skin. “I’m going to make breakfast. Sleep,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head before I walk out.
First order of business is coffee, as I’m fucking exhausted…and I’ve never been happier about it.
Next, I whisk eggs for an omelet, adding a pinch of salt, pepper, and chopped parsley. Getting that in the pan, I rummage through the fridge. Pane, Burro e Marmellata , it is.
While the bread toasts, I check on the omelet, grading some parmesan reggiano on top before giving it a flip. Working fast, I grab the bread, slathering butter and a dollop of apricot jam on top.
A ridiculous smile spreads across my face.
I begin plating, and even though it pains me, I grab a soda and pop the top, pouring it over a glass of ice.
Carrying the tray to my bedroom, I find the bed empty. Sitting the tray down, I check the bathroom; also empty.
“Luna,” I call, walking across the hall to her room. Trying the handle, the door’s locked. I knock loudly. “Luna, come back to bed. Breakfast’s ready. ”
“I’m not hungry.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Open the damn door.”
“Go away.”
Cursing, I hustle to my room, returning with the key. Unlocking the door, I find Luna on the floor, holding a bloody towel to her wrist.
I squat down beside her, jerking the towel away to find old her scars have been cut open, a bloody razor blade on the floor next to her.
Silently, I rise and march to my room, returning with my belt. Jerking her up by her arm, she doesn’t try to fight me.
“I warned you, Luna, if you ever cut yourself again, I’d teach you what real pain feels like. Face down on the bed. This isn’t going to feel good.”
She silently complies, which isn’t Luna at all.
I feel so fucking out of control because I don’t know what’s wrong, let alone how to fix it. Jerking her back up, I give her shoulders a little shake. “Tell me why you cut yourself!”
“I didn’t get into the Chess Hall,” she whispers, tears spilling from her eyes and down her cheeks. “And Coach Petrov isn’t going to coach me.”
I grab her phone, reading the email.
We regret to inform you, your application to the Chess Hall has been declined. Please know membership is extremely competitive…
Closing that out, I pull up the email from the coach. My offer to coach you is unfortunately rescinded. Wishing you luck in your chess career.
“Get ready, we’re going to Newark.”
Luna
“Why are we going to Newark?” I stare out the window.
“To see my boss.”
“Fabio?” I say, confused.
“No. The boss.”
My eyes go wide. “Vince, I’m sorry?—”
He holds up his hand, silencing me.
I glance down to the bandage on my wrist, shame and regret washing over me as my mind spins like a hamster wheel. Why are we going to see Romeo Parisi? Have I become too much of a headache, even for Vince? But then why would he get the boss involved?
I’m a nervous wreck by the time we arrive in Newark. Vince rolls down his window, pressing the call button on the security gate. “Vince and Luna, here to see the boss.”
I gulp, wiping my sweaty hands on my skirt.
The gate swings open, and we proceed down a long driveway, reaching a lovely house. Not an opulent mansion that I was expecting, but still nicer than any house I’ve ever visited.
“Vince, please tell me what we’re doing here,” I beg, but he ignores me.
A man is there to greet us when we park and exit the vehicle. He’s holding the leash to a monstrous doberman, and I inch closer to Vince. “Morning. I need all electronics,” the man says.
“Luna, your phone.” I hand it to Vince, who passes it to the man along with his phone, and the man runs some kind of wand over them, and then us before we’re cleared.
An old woman in a velour tracksuit and sneakers appears at the door, saying something to Vince in Italian as she opens her arms. They embrace in a hug, and she turns her attention to me. “This your girl?” she asks Vince while taking me in .
I glance to Vince, curious how he’ll answer.
“This is Luna,” he simply says. “This is Nonna,” Vince tells me.
“Hello,” I say.
“She Italian?”
“Yes,” Vince answers for me.
Nonna claps excitedly before she wraps her arms around me, kissing both my cheeks. “Come eat.”
“Nonna, we have business first,” Vince says.
She waves her hand with annoyance. “Always business.”
I follow Vince inside and down the hall, stopping at an imposing door. Vince knocks.
“Enter,” a cold voice calls.
Vince holds open the door for me, and I step inside an office, with Romeo Parisi behind a desk. This is the first I’ve seen the boss, and he’s scarier than I imagined. He’s a large man, with hard eyes and an ever harder expression.
But thank God Nicky’s here, seated on his desk. She cranes her neck, smiling reassuringly at me.
She hops down, giving Romeo a kiss; my God, this woman has balls of steel. Walking from behind the desk, she addresses me. “Hey, Luna. Come with me. Vince.” She nods.
“Nicky, thank you.”
I don’t understand what’s happening, but I follow her up the stairs of the house. She holds open a door for me, and I enter a bedroom that’s been turned into a makeshift hospital room. “Have a seat,” she says, gesturing to the exam table tucked away in the corner.
“Is Romeo going to kill me?”
“Why on earth would Romeo kill you?” Nicky raises an eyebrow.
“I don’t know. I cut myself, and Vince brought me to the boss…”
“Vince brought you to see me while he meets with the boss. Let me wash my hands before we begin.” She disappears into the bathroom, returning with her hands held up in the air.
Putting on gloves, she says, “I’m going to take a look at your wrist.”
I nod, and she peels the bandage off, examining the cuts. “None of these need stitches. You know what you’re doing as far as depth; that wasn’t a compliment, by the way.”
“I get that I’m fucked up?—”
“You’re not fucked up, and don’t talk about yourself that way,” she scolds me.
I snort, glancing down to my wounds. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Let me preface this by saying I’m not a mental health professional, but for better or worse, all family matters have to remain in the family, so here goes. You learned self-harm as a coping mechanism, I’m guessing early in life.”
“Twelve,” I admit.
“At twelve-years old, it made you feel better, or at least distracted you, from what was going on at home,” she says, and I nod. “And the habitual pattern was formed: when feelings became too big and life became chaotic, relief could be found in cutting. There’s no judgment; again, it made sense at the time.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I say, never really examining the why’s of it.
Nicky nods. “Now that you’re out of that situation, you no longer need this coping mechanism, but unfortunately, the habitual pattern didn’t get the memo.”
I sigh. “Yes.”
“So we work on breaking this pattern. Vince told me a bit of your history the first time I treated you. Sounds like you survived a really shitty situation. Be proud.”
“Vince said something like that. But it’s hard to be proud when I see what I’ve done to myself. All I feel is shame and embarrassment,” I admit .
“Luna, I’m not going to pretend I understand what you’re going through. All I can offer is to learn with you and help you along the way. I’m game if you are.”
I square my chin. “I’m game.”
We proceed with a physical, where I’m measured and weighed, poked and prodded, and asked a series of questions.
“Are you having suicidal thoughts?”
“No. The only person I think about killing is Vince,” I admit.
She snorts a laugh. “I can relate. I’ve had my fair share of homicidal thoughts directed at a certain Parisi family man.”
“You are like the bravest woman in the world,” I say in awe. “The boss is so scary.”
“Not the bravest; maybe the luckiest.” She smiles softly.
“You believe in luck?”
“Of course. Don’t you?”
“I don’t know what I believe in,” I admit.
“Believe in yourself. That’s a good place to start.”
Nicky ties off my arm, and I cast my eyes at the floor; I’ve already watched myself bleed today. “Your blood work results will be back in forty-eight hours,” she says, removing the needle and placing the vial on a tray. She presses a cotton ball on the pinprick before bandaging the bend of my arm. “I want you back here, anyway, because by then, I’ll have the Cognitive Behavioral Therapy workbook you and I are going to work through together, two times a week.”
“But—”
“No buts. Do you need a pregnancy test?” she asks, removing her gloves and tossing them in a biohazard bin.
My cheeks turn the color of the vials.
“As soon as I saw you and Vince, I knew you two were together. Like PIV together,” she says, and I burst out laughing. “Romeo’s not going to kill you, but I might kill Vince?—”
“No!” I shake my head. “I’m sure it looks sus to outsiders, but I swear Vince didn’t take advantage of me. I sort of took advantage of him,” I admit.
“What’s ‘sus’ is he was your guardian?—”
“For like a minute.” I cross my arms. “Vince and I are both consenting adults. That’s it.”
“Oh, honey, that’s not just it .”
“What do you mean?”
She pats my hand with a knowing smile. “I’ll let you figure it out.”