Chapter 27 #3
Rolling my eyes, I pulled off the tie, feeling my hair drop to my back. Immediately, Remo slid a hand through the dark locks, his caress so contradicting to that cockhead pushing into my mouth. A second later, I had to rethink that notion.
“Open wider,” he grunted.
It was the only warning I got before he tangled that hand in my hair, gripping it so tight I winced while the other grasped my chin, squeezing hard.
He slammed his cock into my mouth, nearly knocking me on my ass.
The pierced tip hitting the back of my throat had me gagging.
I tried to pull back but he kept me in place.
Breathing through my nose, I adjusted my throat, swallowing around him as he started moving in a quick rhythm. His thrusts harsh and vigorous, the piercings hit my teeth and scraped the roof. It hurt but when I opened my eyes and looked up, the expression on his face fascinated me.
Eyes closed, head tilted back, mouth open in a hoarse groan, made me realize I was doing that to him, that I possessed a power over him that I could easily take back.
Encouraged by his reaction, I sucked one of his balls into my mouth, rolling it gently between my lips, combining licks of my tongue over the soft flesh while pumping his shaft.
“Jesus,” he rasped, looking down at me.
I alternated between his balls for few seconds then jerked him off with both hands, keeping the head suctioned between my lips and tongue.
“Fuck,” he cursed, thrusting savagely up into my grip, harder, faster.
I guessed he hated losing control because his grip on my hair tightened making my eyes water.
He threw back his head as he fucked my mouth, his girth growing thicker and harder, pushing further down my throat, until it hurt.
I dug my nails into his abdomen, scratching, trying to shove him back.
Instead, he dropped his head to look at me, one hand leaving my hair to pinch my nose.
Shocked, I tried to jerk back, but his other hand fisted my hair, keeping me in place.
I couldn’t breathe, yet somehow, the tingle between my thighs intensified, my nipples hardened.
Disgusted by my body’s reaction, all I could do was let him use me until he suddenly stopped thrusting but kept his cock deep in my throat.
His eyes dark with evident lust, roved over my face, waiting for me to fight him.
I didn’t, having learned to hold my breath for long periods when I’d go swimming for no apparent reason other than I like sitting at the bottom of the pool with nothing but the calming silence.
Head tilted to one side as if uncertain, he watched me. “Good girl.” He released my nose and pulled back slightly, allowing me to breathe for barely a second before he sank back in, fucking me harder and faster.
I gasped when he finally pulled out, my throat aching with his brutal intrusion. He fisted his dick, the tip flush against my lips. “Suck just the head.” I closed my lips around the head letting the tip of my tongue dip into the slit. “Fuck,” he groaned.
One more harsh thrust, and his cock swelled, his eyes rolling before he stilled. Thick, warm liquid hit the back of my throat. I tried not gag, tried to swallow but there was so much. It dribbled out the sides of my mouth, running down my chin and neck.
“Keep my cum in your mouth,” he breathed harshly. “Spit and I’ll make you lick up every fucking drop. Swallow and I’ll take your mouth for a second ride.” There was not a shred of mercy in those words.
Eyes wide, I dug my nails into his thighs, certain I’d draw blood.
Again, that dark brow merely went up, his dick twitching against my tongue.
He pulled out and grasped my jaw, keeping it open, staring at his cum swimming in my mouth.
My eyes widened when he brushed his thumb along the edges, catching the spilled cum and smearing it across my lips before sliding two fingers into mouth, literally playing with the liquid.
“Beautiful,” he murmured and I scowled. Eyes on me, teeth grazing his bottom lip, he forced his fingers to the back of my throat until I gagged. “Swallow, little fox.”
I let the liquid slide down my throat, my eyes watering from the need to hurl.
It took effort but I swallowed it all and when he released my jaw, I dropped to my ass, closed my eyes and sucked in lungsful of air.
My body shook, my hands trembled and against my wishes, my pussy ached, needing release.
But I ignored it all and when I could finally breath without wincing, I looked up. Hands at his side, Remo watched me. I couldn’t tell if it was awe of disgust but those darkened eyes hinted that I might’ve surprised him, notwithstanding how we began.
His gaze dropped to my neck. “You wear my mark well.” He touched the cut, smirking. “Mine.” A wealth of possession filled that single word, promising harm to anyone who challenged him.
“In your dreams,” I scoffed, glaring at him and unsure what possessed me to further cement a relationship I didn’t want with him. “One day, I’ll get even, Mr Rossi and you will fall for me. Hard.”
One dark brow shot up. Obviously, he enjoyed being challenged. “Your defiance,” he drawled as if testing how it sounded on his lips. “Is both intriguing and arousing. I’m hard at the thought of proving you wrong.” He stroked his already hardening cock.
With it right in my face, I had nowhere else to look and mentally kicked myself for provoking him again.
“Shall we go for round two? Maybe one of your other holes this time?”
Flabbergasted, I backed away until the wall at my rear forced me to faceplant into his cock. My hands shot out, grasping his taut thighs to keep my balance.
“That eager, are we?” He reached for me.
“Don’t touch me.” I tried pushing away from him. “You’re disgusting.”
He gripped my chin, forcing me to look up at him before he leaned down, bringing his face so close I could make out the black rings around those clear blue irises.
“Trust me when I say this, little fox. You will fuck me, soon and you will enjoy every disgusting thing I do to you. That includes begging to come while begging me to stop.”
“You’re a monster,” I choked, more out of exasperation than fear.
“I know?” His dark laugh sent goosebumps scurrying down my skin.
“If I were you, I’d watch were you’re going.
While I enjoyed these pretty lips.” He rubbed a thumb over my bottom lip, and I tried to jerk away but his hold tightened.
“Unless I say different, the next time we meet, I’m fucking all three holes, in which order, depends on my mood.
There were so many menacing threats etched into his words I didn’t know whether to scream or cry my frustration. “I hate you,” I grunted childishly.
His answering chuckle had me grinding my molars. “Then you’re going to enjoy a lot of hate fucking until your pussy’s tired of me. With the way I like to fuck though, that’s a definite never.”
Oh, my God.
Not waiting for my response, he shoved his cock back in his pants and turned his back on me.
Without thinking, I grabbed my discarded knife and threw it, my aim wild, unfocused.
The tip sank into the door frame, mere inches from Remo’s head as he was about to step out.
He stopped, stared at the still vibrating knife then glanced over his shoulder.
“Next time you throw a knife at me, little fox, make sure you draw blood. I’m certainly going to.” A wicked smile spread across his face, intensifying his threat. Then he was gone.
Only after hearing the outer door closing, did I stop glaring at the inner one and slowly stood, working the kinks out of my body with a few stretches.
His last words echoing in my head, I turned toward the sink.
Catching sight of my face in the mirror, I grimaced.
Thick mascara streaks painted my cheeks, dipping down to edge my pink swollen lips, the insides grazed raw by those piercings.
My hair was a tousled mess of sex hair. If only it were the satisfying kind, I’d walk around like that just to prove my gratification.
Before I could sufficiently react, I doubled over, retching violently. Repulsion churned in my stomach, for myself, for him, and this absurd situation. Tears spilled, hot and unchecked, streaking down my cheeks.
“No, Ishika,” I scolded, a minute later, aggressively swiping my cheeks. “That monster doesn’t deserve your tears.”
Angry with my lack of restraint, I cleaned the sink, washed my face, finger-brushed my hair into a ponytail and fixed my clothing.
I had no idea how my legs carried me out of the room, through the hospital corridors and onto the bus until I stepped off in front of the police station.
Only when I sat down opposite the uniformed man ready to take my statement, did hesitation burden my shoulders.
Is this the right decision?
The memory of the piercing obscurity in Remo’s eyes sent a chill up my spine, but I shook my head, not willing to acknowledge my body’s fear of the man.
“Would you like to begin?” the officer asked, his English underpinned by a thick Italian accent.
“I was sexually assaulted and–”
He raised a hand to stop me, his expression sympathetic. “Would you prefer a female office, signorina?”
I glanced around the room, noting all the men with a frown. “Is there one available?”
He reddened, his smile slight. “If you can wait about forty-five minutes, someone–”
I shook my head, already too tired to spend anything more than the next ten minutes here. “It’s fine.”
“Okay.” He nodded for me to go on.
Throughout my recount, he listened, made notes when necessary and remained silent whenever I sought a calming breath. I wouldn’t consider myself a damsel in distress type of woman, but rape wasn’t something to leave you unfeeling or a little scared.
“Do you know the man?” the officer asked. Slowly, I shook my head. “A description or name maybe?”
I gave him a description, annoyed with how well I remembered even the slightest detail. “His name is Remo Rossi.”
Startled, the officer’s pen slipped, extending the end on the last letter he wrote across two lines. His dark eyes snapped up to my face, his brow furrowed deeply. “Did you say—”
“Remo Rossi,” I repeated, anger already heating my neck, knowing what was coming.
“Signorina.” He set his pen down and linked his fingers on the table. “Do you have any idea who Mr. Rossi is?”
“A rapist?” I retorted.
He tsked, his eyes darting around the room. “I’d be very careful about—”
I shot up, my chair toppling over behind me, slapping my hands down on his table so hard, it attracted the attention of other people around us. “Are you an officer of the law or a lackey for criminals?”
He glanced around nervously. “Please, sit down,” he whispered. “The Rossi brothers are dangerous. They’re mafia, no one crosses them—”
“So what you’re saying is I should just go home and forget what that man did to me?” I gritted.
He nodded then looked up as a heavily mustached man I assumed to be the chief, approached us. “Is everything all right, Signorina?”
Before I could respond, the officer fired off in rapid Italian. The red flush to his neck telling me he probably regretted taking my statement. Both men looked at me, their expressions filled with unease.
Peeved, I straightened at the same time my gaze connected with the very monster I wanted caged.
A gaping pit of fear threatened to burst out of me when I realized he was studying every single expression crossing my face with unflinching interest. Then his lips parted in an irritatingly slow smile.
And the scariest part about it, was that it appeared unmistakably genuine.
I snuffed the flinch and looked away, squaring my shoulders. “Remo Rossi is a criminal and deserves to be jailed,” I yelled loud enough to hear shocked gasps.
When the two men in front of me swallowed repeatedly, their expressions nervous, I rolled my eyes, grabbed my purse and walked out, ignoring their desperate calls to wait.
How I made it back to the hospital and finished my shift without crumbling, I’d never know.