Chapter 12 Charlie
I drag myself into the dining room, every muscle screaming from the hell Carlo put me through. Mattia’s mocking laugh slices through the thick air like a knife. “Who fucked you hard, Red?”
I snap back, flipping him the bird with zero remorse. “Carlo.” Do I really look that bad?
Luciano’s piercing blue eyes lock onto me, danger lurking behind them, the kind that should make my skin crawl but instead it’s starting to have the opposite effect. “You mad you didn’t get to punish me?” I can’t help but tease him.
His growl rumbles low, thick with promise. “C’è ancora un sacco di tempo stasera.” There’s still plenty of time tonight.
Wetness pools as I clench my thighs, imagining every ruthless way Luciano could punish me. But I shove the feeling down, forcing myself to switch gears.
“So, what did everyone get up to today?” I ask casually. I dig into my food, quite hungry since the workout.
Mattia grins like a kid showing off. “I stalked some seedy old bastard.”
Gabriele shrugs, clearly uninterested. “Nothing you’d find interesting.”
Carlo and Stefano eat in silence tonight.
“Good chat, everyone,” I mock.
Stefano’s head snaps towards Luciano, once again trying to ignore my presence. “Con lei tutto deve essere divertente e difficile?” Does everything have to be amusingly hard with her?
Luciano glares at Stefano, but I’m not having it tonight.
He needs to be put into his place. “Oh, assolutamente. Perché semplificarti la vita quando puoi avere un posto in prima fila nella mia vita incasinata, stronzo?” Oh, absolutely.
Why make life easy when you can have front-row seats to my fucked-up life, asshole?
The tension thickens in the air as Stefano scrapes his chair back and storms out of the dining room. The remaining brothers look at me in complete shock, except for Mattia. I guess they didn’t see that coming. A smirk crosses my lips. Another win for Charlie.
I mutter to no one in particular, “Cosa gli è entrato nel culo stasera?” What’s crawled up his ass tonight?
“He doesn’t trust you,” Gabriele says, blunt as ever and not fazed by me talking in Italian as well.
“Yeah, no shit.” My eyes scan the room and lock onto Luciano’s unreadable face.
“You didn’t tell us you could speak Italian, Red.” Mattia raises his eyebrows at me, but I know he knew by the way he looked at me at the first dinner. This must be for show for his brothers.
“My dad made me take lessons from a young age. He was persistent on me speaking Italian fluently.” As I tell them this, a memory flashes.
“Again, Charlotte,” Dad demands on our drive home, making me recite everything I learnt at today’s lesson.
“Uno, due, tre, quattro, cinque, sei, sette, otto, nove, diec.” One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
“Ciao, mi chiamo Charlotte.” Hello, my name is Charlotte.
“Come posso aiutarla?” How can I help you?
“Hai sbagliato persona.” You have the wrong person.
We have just started to progress from individual words to sentences. Dad makes me go twice a week to learn Italian, and he sits in the back of the room and watches me intently.
“Why do I have to learn Italian? No one else my age is,” I try to argue with him. He’s becoming more agitated as I grow older.
“Because I said so. Keep going,” he says. After every lesson, it’s the same conversation and the same answer. I stare out the window as we pass suburbia, slowly reciting today’s lesson until nothing makes sense anymore.
“Charlie, helloooo?” Mattia is waving his hands in front of my face, snapping me back to reality.
“What?”
“I said, don’t you think it’s strange your dad made you learn Italian?”
“I always thought it was weird growing up, but now I guess it makes perfect sense,” I say, pushing the food around my plate.
I need a distraction away from this conversation, away from the harsh truth that Dad must have been preparing me just in case someone from my mother’s side ever found me.
I turn to Luciano. “What’s on the agenda tomorrow? ”
“I’m going out in the morning, but you have shooting practice with Mattia in the afternoon,” Luciano says between bites.
“Where are you going?” I prod at him, sipping the wine from my glass.
“Eat your dinner,” he grunts.
Fuck it, I think to myself. Let’s see how long it takes to crack his stoic mask and punish me. I need to distract myself from the thought of shooting a gun tomorrow. Slowly, I trail my foot up his leg underneath the table. His eyebrows shoot up, but his eyes stay down, refusing to meet my eyes.
Next, I “accidentally” let my fork slip out of my hand and it falls under the table.
I climb underneath, but Luciano barely notices, too caught up in his own dark thoughts.
Before he can react, I sink my teeth down hard on his dick through his pants.
His hand yanks my hair back so violently that my head bangs against the underside of the table.
“You okay under there, Red?” Mattia asks. It’s innocent, but he’s wearing a teasing grin when I resurface.
“Yeah, just dropped my fork,” I mutter, rubbing the throbbing spot on my scalp as I sit back into my chair. A smirk crosses Luciano’s lips.
“There were plenty of spare forks on the table, Charlie,” Gabriele states. Mattia and I try to stifle our laughter. Luciano’s eyes flicker with that fire I’m starting to know all too well.
Dessert arrives, and I decide its time to turn up the heat. I moan softly, licking my spoon with exaggerated delight while locking eyes with him. “Mm, this hits the spot.” He downs his whiskey in one sharp gulp but still doesn’t break.
I “accidentally” drop a dollop of melted ice cream between my tits. “Oh shit,” I whisper, feigning surprise as I scoop it up with my fingers and suck it clean. Luciano’s jaw tightens, teeth clenched. He’s starting to struggle with his resistance now.
I stay seated and sip on my wine. One by one, the brothers drift away until it’s just us, the air now thick around us with sexual tension.
Luciano stands and hovers over me. He slowly unbuttons his shirt revealing every sculpted muscle.
My eyes wander over his tattoos, which now make sense—his dedication to the Cosa Nostra, to the Carlisi family, my family.
His eyes lock onto me. “You want to be punished, Principessa?” His voice is rough, sharp, dripping with threat and something darker. His eyes turn a darker shade.
Before I can answer, his fingers lace through my hair and he yanks my head up hard, forcing me to meet his dark gaze. “Kneel,” he snarls at me.
My eyes flicker to the door. Anyone could walk past and see us. There’s a slight hesitation in my voice when I say, “The door’s open.”
He tightens his grip on my hair, leaning closer to me until his breath is hot against my ear. “I want everyone to know that you are mine,” he growls, his words scorching my skin and starting a fire within me.
“Kneel,” he commands again. This time he uses his Don voice, loud and filled with danger.
With his grip still in my hair, he pushes me down slightly towards the floor, and I obey, sinking to my knees in front of him.
My heart pounds with a mix of fear and fierce desire.
I’m not normally this reckless, but there’s something about Luciano that drives me wild.
His hand reaches down, undoing his belt and pants, and I gasp as his cock, thick and extremely large, springs free.
A dark chuckle rumbles from him, approval heavy in the air like he knows he’s hung like a fucking horse.
I’ve felt it against me, but seeing it with my own two eyes makes it seem a hell of a lot bigger.
His fingers trail over my lips, prying them open before slipping his thumb inside my mouth. I start sucking his finger. “Who’s been a naughty girl?” he asks, eyes blazing.
“I have,” I whisper, leaning into his touch, craving more of him.
“What do we do with naughty girls?” His hand clamps around my jaw, locking my gaze on him.
“We punish,” I breathe through ragged pants, my pulse starting to race with anticipation.
He rubs the head of his cock against my lips, and I dart out my tongue and lick the tip, tasting the salty drop of his precum. A deep moan vibrates through him. I reach out, wrapping my hand around his cock, the sheer size of him making me wet.
A demonic smirk crosses his face as he strips off his belt. “Hands behind your back.” I do as I’m told and put my hands behind me as he bends down and binds my wrists tightly with his belt, the roughness sending a shiver down my spine.
I watch as Luciano walks back in front of me. I open my mouth inviting him in before he shoves his cock deep down my throat. I don’t gag, I never have. His eyes widen in sudden realization. “You were made for me,” he breathes, pushing my head further down on him.
I suck hard, matching his brutal thrusts, my mouth a slave to his rhythm. Saliva drips down my chin as I tease my teeth along his shaft. He grunts his approval, telling me he likes a bit of pain.
“Is my naughty girl thirsty?” he asks, husky.
I nod, sucking his cock in further.
“Open wider,” he demands. I stretch my mouth as far as I can around his cock, desperate to please him.
He lifts his whiskey glass, pouring the amber liquid down the top of his cock, the warmth trickling into my mouth as he thrusts hard at the same time as I swallow—the burn from the whiskey and his cock a perfect blend of pleasure and pain.
He quickens his thrusts while his cock pulses in my throat until he comes. “Swallow,” he orders, pulling out of my mouth. I lick my lips, savoring any missed drops of him. I enjoy being submissive under his fierce control.
He unties my hands and pulls me up so I’m standing in front of him. He leans in and whispers in my ear, “Go upstairs and fuck yourself with your purple vibrator. I want to hear you scream my name.”
My breath stalls in my throat for a second.
How the hell did he know what color my vibrator was?
I slowly back away, glancing at him as I walk out the dining room.
His pants are still undone, his cock standing tall, ready for round two.
His eyes are roaming over me like he’s a predator about to prance on his prey.
I’m near the end of the hallway when I have this feeling to look back, where I see Luciano standing at the doorway watching me, his shirt still unbuttoned, chest bare and eyes watching me.
I turn back around and walk quicker to my room, slamming the door shut.
I rush over to my bedside table and open the second drawer. Yep, it’s still sitting there.
I start pacing around my room. I walk into my bathroom and walk-in closet, opening every drawer and cupboard. Everything seems to be in place still, nothing is missing. Am I going crazy? Maybe it was just a good guess?