21. Lucy
Lucy
D onatella wasn’t exaggerating. Salvatore really is doing worse than the first time I saw him.
The doctor comes. He’s an older Spanish man who carries himself like an old-world royal. I hear him speak with Adriano after examining Salvatore, and the news isn’t good. “We’ll make him comfortable. If I’m right, there’s not a lot of time left.”
“It’s just so sudden.”
“This is how it happens. Very, very slowly, and then all at once. I’m sorry, Adriano. I really am.”
Then he leaves. I stay with Donatella and Salvatore for a little while longer, but the old man is agitated. He goes back to bed, and I slip out to make coffee.
I find Adriano in his office. His nose is buried in some kind of dossier, and he barely glances up when I put one of my teacups in front of him.
“Espresso?” he asks, sounding surprised. The little bone china cup looks tiny in his big hands. It’s very old, Victorian-era, with gold flowers. One of my favorite pieces.
“The way you like it.”
He drinks some and puts the papers down. For a second, there’s a brief smile on his face. “How’d you know?”
“I’ve seen you make it a few times now.”
“Didn’t realize you were watching.”
I don’t bother telling him that he’s all I can watch whenever he’s around. “Guess I’m picking up a few things.”
I go to sit in one of the guest chairs, but he pushes back from the desk and gestures at me.
“Come here.”
“I’m not really a lap kind of girl.”
“You are now. Come here, wife.”
My heart stutters. I lick my lips and think about disobeying him, but the look he’s giving me doesn’t leave any room for argument.
I go to him and sink down. The big man pulls me right into his lap, holding my hips as he pulls me against his chest.
I snuggle in close. I understand that he needs me right now. His father is dying, and there’s nothing he can do about it. The agony must be unbearable.
I feel so small as he tightens his grip.
“I haven’t been around much lately,” he says softly. He leans forward, his mouth nuzzling against my neck. “I’m going to change that.”
“I hope not on my account.”
“You don’t want your husband around?”
“My husband is a big scary brute.”
He laughs softly. His lips move up my throat. “You think I’m scary?”
“Terrifying, honestly.”
“Then why don’t you go running whenever I come into a room?”
“Too slow, I guess. You’ll catch me.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
A shiver runs down my spine. I’ve never pulsed like this for another person before. Each soft touch of his sinning mouth sends another thrill right into my core. The anticipation kills me. He’s so close, so big. He can crush me, break me, but he doesn’t.
He’s almost gentle. Until he’s not.
“Maybe I like being caught,” I admit, and he pulls back to look into my eyes.
I adjust myself, slipping around so my legs straddle him. I wrap my arms around his neck, staring into his eyes. Daring him to do more. Wanting him to push me, to find my limits, to break through them.
He smirks, and I nearly hate him for making me want him this badly.
I don’t even care that he’s using me right now.
Let him use me right up, so long as I get what I want in the process.
“You know what happens to good girls who find themselves with bad men,” he whispers, his thumb moving down to my cheek. He presses it against my lips.
“No. What?”
“They get ruined.” He slips his thumb into my mouth. “Suck.”
I lick the tip of his thumb before sucking it. He grunts, eyes shining with pure lust. It’s overwhelming and sticky in all the best ways. I grind down and feel him stiffening between my legs.
“Is that what you’re going to do to me?” I say as he pulls his thumb back and strokes it wetly down my throat. “Ruin me?”
“Yes, I am.” He slowly unbuttons my blouse with one hand while the other curls into my hair again. I love it when he tugs, just hard enough to hurt. “You should’ve gone running the second you saw me.”
“Did you want me to?”
“No, my little wife.” He finishes unbuttoning my blouse and pulls it open.
He licks his lips at the sight of my bra-covered breasts and leans forward to kiss me.
I gasp as his mouth moves down my chest. He reveals one stiff nipple and licks it.
“I would’ve chased you. I would’ve found you and taken you.
But this is better.” He sucks and nibbles.
I grind down against him, feeling him swell more and more.
“What were you thinking the night we first met?” I ask on a whim.
He kisses up toward my mouth. God, I want that kiss. I want it so much, only growing more the longer he delays.
“I was thinking you were very brave and very beautiful.”
“That’s all?”
“And you were the only woman I wanted in that entire club.”
“Liar. There were models.”
His grip tightens. His eyes harden. “Are you getting mouthy with me?”
“I’m just saying, that’s bullshit.”
“You don’t know anything about want , my little wife.” He leans in closer and nibbles at my throat.
I shimmy down against his hard cock. “I think I’m learning.”
“You will eventually,” he murmurs as he pulls my hair. “And if you ever call me a liar again, I’ll punish your filthy fucking mouth with my thick cock. Do you understand?”
I gasp in alarm. A thrill runs into my core. Spanking me is bad enough, but sliding his big dick into my throat? A sick part of me wants him to do it, too. I want him to grab my hair and push me down so I can hear that masculine growl of bliss as I gag and swallow him whole.
“Do you understand me, wife ?” he whispers. The emphasis he puts on that last word is like heaven. It’s like desire wrapped in velvet. I want to luxuriate in that word forever.
“No, I don’t think I do.” I stare at him and lick my lips. “Maybe you’ll have to show me.”
He leans forward and crushes his mouth against mine.
Oh, fuck.
I sink into the kiss. Heaven assaults me. Hell threatens to drag me down. I’d happily burn with the other sinners if it meant living a life like this. Right here in this monster’s arms. Adriano’s a killer. He’s a thief and a criminal. He’s brutality, monstrosity, everything I should hate.
And all I can do is want him.
His tongue invades my mouth. His taste floods my senses.
I cling to him, drowning for more. His growl of want is better than any drug.
The second I hear it, I need even more. I want a chorus of that noise.
I want to drill his pleasured moans straight into my brain. I could die listening to that sound.
I shimmy back and drop to my knees. His eyes are like fire as he unclasps his trousers with one hand and teases my mouth with his thumb.
I watch him, greedy and impatient. I lick at his nail and suck his fingers.
Finally, he lifts his hips, and I help him tug the pants loose, only to pull off his black boxer briefs too.
Then he’s there, thick with wanting. I take him in my hand, and god, he’s so fucking hard. His grip in my hair tightens as I open my mouth. A thin line of spit drips from my tongue and touches the tip of him, right in the little slit.
“You filthy girl,” he says, biting his lower lip. “You’re drooling for me.”
“I’m only anticipating my punishment.”
“You’re not supposed to like it.” He grips his cock at the root and moves my face down toward his tip. “But I’ll make an exception in your case.”
I open my mouth, whimpering as he slides into my lips.
Salty and sweet. I lick the precum and let him guide me down deeper.
There’s that moan again: low and throaty, like a wolf in heat.
I moan as my spit slides down his shaft and gets him messy.
Deeper and deeper, and it finally makes me gag, but I’m determined to hear that sound again.
I suck him, pulling back, going with his fist as he guides me.
It’s filthy. It’s all kinds of wrong. But none of that matters to the pure orchestral bliss of his growls, moans, and gasps.
I suck faster, gagging, choking on his thick cock just like he wanted me to, stroking him with my hands as they get all messy and wet.
I pull back suddenly, gasping for air, and stare into his eyes.
“I don’t feel punished yet,” I say, grinning wickedly.
His eyes flash darkly. “You want more?”
“I want you to show me how bad I’ve been.”
It’s like something finally clicks. I watch the leash slip away, and something dark takes hold.
For a second, I wonder if maybe I’ve made a horrible mistake.
But it’s too late. He moves so fast, like liquid grace, and suddenly he’s dragging me across the room to the couch against the far wall.
He pins me face-down, one pillow jammed against my ear, his enormous weight behind me as he deftly wraps his belt around my wrists and binds them behind my back.
I gasp in shock as he wrenches off my pants and rips off my panties, shoving my face tighter into the cushion as he roughly teases my pussy with his fingers.
“Look at you, filthy fucking girl,” he says, groaning with pleasure as he dips his fingers into my pussy.
I gasp, arching into him, my heart racing.
I’m bound and controlled, completely dominated and at his mercy.
I don’t know how far he’s going to take this, and a sick part of me wants to find out exactly where the lines are.
Or if there even are any lines at all.
“You’re dripping onto my palm like honey from a hive.
” He grips my ass and dips his face down.
He buries his mouth on my pussy from behind, licking me.
It’s fucking filthy and incredible. “I learned something in life the hard way,” he whispers as he grips the belt at my wrists and plunges his fingers inside me again.
“You can’t hate what you don’t love, at least a little bit.
And right now, I want to worship you and make you fucking shatter.
I want to break you, so you know how much I need you. ”
“Then do it,” I moan.
He slips his fingers from my pussy and spanks my bare ass hard. It’s a loud crack, leaving a red welt and wet marks from my own arousal. Then he buries those fingers in my mouth, making me suck them clean before lifting my hips up in the air.
His cock fills me to the brim in one hard thrust.
I gasp, arching. My brain stutters and breaks for one incredible instant.
All my life hangs in the balance of that moment.
All my regrets and failures melt away in the rough embrace of this monster as he fucks me like an animal, taking me from behind, slamming into me over and over as he whispers in my ears, telling me how beautiful I am and how that makes him want to ruin me even more.
I take him, pushing back along his shaft, willing myself to break.
He pulls my hair and wraps one thick hand around my throat, pressing just hard enough to let me know it’s there.
I feel him filling, stretching me, breaking me, his hard body like the fear of a thunderstorm.
I can’t look away as he slams me down against the couch and fills me hard, the sweet lightness of his unhinged and unfiltered moans filling my brain like pure heroin, and that’s what finally wrecks me.
It’s his pleasure and his want, how badly he needs me, how he’s slowly losing control too.
“Adriano,” I gasp, guiding my ass back against him harder. “Oh, my fucking god, Adriano.”
“Husband,” he says, grabbing my hair. “Call me your husband.”
“Fuck me, husband,” I whimper, my eyes rolling back. “I’m so close.”
“Then come for me, you filthy fucking girl. Come for me, my beautiful slut, my sinner, come on my big dick and fucking thank me when you’re done.”
I shatter, gasping, skin flushed, fingers digging into the belt around my wrists, his name on my lips until I can’t even make those sounds anymore, and he doesn’t relent.
God, he doesn’t slow down; he takes me and takes me, and it’s only when he fills me with his thick warmth that I finally come back down too.
“Fuck,” he says, husky and sweet. I’m grinning like a maniac. My ears are ringing. I can barely think.
“Yeah, fuck.”
Gingerly, tenderly, he takes off the belt.
He kisses my wrists where the leather left red marks.
I might have a welt, and I don’t care. He strokes me, his lips pressing to my shoulder, my collarbone, my chin, and my cheek, and finally my lips.
“Wife,” he says possessively. “Such a good girl. So fucking beautiful. God, you do such a good job. You’re so fucking perfect. ”
I curl into him as he praises me. It’s almost as good as the sex. His arms wrap around my body, and he tugs me close.
“Do me a favor,” I say, feeling very small and vulnerable. “Carry me upstairs and put me in bed.”
His arms tighten their grip as he lifts me. “Done.”
I cling to him as he takes me up the stairs and into our room.
He puts me down gently into bed and wraps the blankets around me, fussing with the pillow to make sure it’s perfect.
Then he gets undressed and climbs into bed beside me, pulling me close against his big, strong body, and I sink down into him.
I let the warmth and comfort take me. I feel like he ripped me in half, and now he’s slowly stitching me back together.
Where the breaks were, I’m filled with concrete and iron.
Stronger and better than before.