Chapter 9 #3
Tony grips my shoulders, flipping me onto my back so quick and sudden that it leaves me breathless.
His head dips into the curve of my neck, and his hands glide over the thin straps of my dress, sliding them down my arms. His palms cup my breasts gently, and with his index finger, he circles the already hardened peak of one.
“These perfect tits are so fucking delicious,” he murmurs.
His lips trail down my skin until they reach my chest. While one hand kneads the softness of one breast, his mouth envelops the other, his warm tongue stroking the sensitive bud as he sucks. His other hand slides down, slipping under my dress and panties until his fingers find my wet pussy.
A jolt of pleasure shoots through me, making my back arch and my fingers clutch the sheets beneath me. My moans escape unbidden, soft yet raw, as his expert touch stokes a fire I didn’t know could burn this fiercely.
His fingers part me, one sliding through my slick folds.
My thighs press into the mattress. My hands clutch his shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle beneath his skin.
The cool wetness on my nipples against my burning skin drives me crazy, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.
His lips move lower, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses in their wake, and he pinches each nipple in turn, drawing gasps from deep within me.
When his lips reach my navel, he straightens, kneeling between my legs with an intensity in his gaze that steals my breath. His hands grip the edges of my dress, and in one motion, he pulls it off along with my panties, tossing them aside.
He takes himself in hand, stroking his length slowly while his hungry eyes hold mine. His free hand grips my hips, tugging me closer until our bodies align perfectly. The soft, velvet head of his cock glides over my slick folds, teasing, torturing.
A wicked smirk curls his lips as I arch my back and bite down on my lip, desperate to stifle the moans threatening to spill out. But when he begins tapping his rigid length against my clit in firm, rhythmic strokes, a loud moan escapes me, unrestrained, raw.
I arch my back, silently begging him to fill me, to quench this unbearable ache. Yet he holds back. It’s maddening. I need him, desperately, but it seems he has other plans.
He continues to torment me with controlled pleasure, driving me to the brink with careful precision. Just as my frustration peaks, he reaches out, pulling a condom from the pocket of his discarded pants on the bed. Finally, he’s going to give me what I want.
But instead of tearing it open, he twirls the condom packet between his fingers and holds it up. “There’s a car parked downstairs,” he says. “Tonight, you’re running away with me.”
I’m so intoxicated by pleasure that his words barely register. Instead, I lift my hips, my voice breathy as I ask, “What do you want me to do?”
“You’re coming with me to Chicago.”
The rush of hormones fades, snapping me back to reality. My eyes fly open as clarity replaces the fog. “You’ve got to be joking.”
He shakes his head slowly. What kind of game is he playing?
“Why would I ever do that?” I ask.
His tone is laced with venom, raw and dripping with hatred. “Because I want to bury Carlo’s pride in the fucking dirt. Every time I fuck you, it feels like I’m fucking him—and I want him to know I’m buried deep inside his wife.”
The alarm bells in my body blare, my entire being on high alert. Despair casts its dark shadow over my heart again, and clouds of hate thunder with rage. How foolish of me to think, even for a moment, that I could be more than a plaything to him.
I push myself up on my elbows, pulling away as quickly as I can. I don’t want him to touch me. But his hand shoots out, pinning me to the sheets, trapping me under him. I try to struggle, but he flips me over onto my stomach, pressing my cheek into the mattress.
I summon every ounce of strength I have to keep the tears at bay. He’s not worth it. My voice comes out firm. “I won’t do it. You can never convince me.”
His growl is a low, dangerous rumble in my ear. “I don’t need your permission. I’ll throw you over my shoulder and take you.”
“You can’t ruin Carlo’s reputation by using me. I won’t let you. Go ahead, throw me over your shoulder and drag me away. Unless I confess, no one will believe I went willingly. To everyone else, you’ll just be a desperate enemy who kidnapped Carlo’s wife.
Carlo won’t give you anything for my release, not even if you kill me, and it’ll work to his advantage. All you’ll prove is how untouchable he is, how he has no weaknesses, no vulnerabilities to exploit.”
His breaths come hard and heavy, thick with rage.
He presses my head into the sheets so firmly it feels like he wants to crush my skull.
I whimper in pain, but his grip doesn’t ease.
“Eventually, he’ll want your pussy and come for you.
When he finds out you’ve already been opened, he’ll kill you.
Why do you fight something in your best interest? ”
I roll my eyes to look at him. The real reason is that I can’t risk putting Fabi in danger, but Tony doesn’t deserve the truth. I know exactly what to say to make his blood boil.
“Because he has a kind of integrity you wouldn’t even understand. I’ll protect his honor, even if it means death in the end.”
His eyes darken with pure rage. His anger quickly morphs into something darker, a wild insanity that consumes him. Letting go of my head, he leans his full weight onto me, pinning me against the mattress.
I try to pull away, but his hands grip my hips with a punishing strength, rooting me to the bed. I glance back over my shoulder to see what the hell he’s up to. With a careless flick, he tosses the condom aside and positions himself at my entrance.
I writhe beneath him, struggling to get free, but his weight keeps me immobilized. Slowly, he pushes the head inside me. My whole body tightens.
A devilish smirk curves across his lips, his eyes glinting with madness as he murmurs, “It’ll be death in the end, sweetheart. But it won’t come easy.”
And then, with one rough shove, he pushes himself as deep as he can, stretching my slick walls around him.
Yes, it’s true. Even now, when I hate him enough to choke on it, my body still betrays me.
It still wants him. But my mind refuses to accept it, so the sound that tears from my throat isn’t pain, it’s helpless rage.
I try to crawl forward, to get away, but his weight pins me to the sheets. He leans forward slowly, pressing his lips to the crook of my neck, breathing me in. His voice comes out low, rough, but soothing, like velvet wrapped around steel.
“Shh, princess,” he murmurs against my neck. “I’ve got you. I’ll make it good for you. I always do.”
One of his hands slides down beneath me, fingers finding my clit with practiced ease. He starts massaging in slow, deliberate circles, firm but patient, coaxing my body to respond. At first I tense, but he doesn’t rush.
He keeps that steady rhythm, whispering soft praises against my neck—“That’s it, baby…just feel me…you’re mine…”—while his thumb circles, teases, presses just right.
Gradually, my body stops fighting. Heat blooms low in my belly, replacing the ache with something else, something hot, slick, overwhelming.
My hips twitch involuntarily, chasing his touch.
Wetness finally starts to gather, easing the friction, letting him slide a little deeper with every tiny shift.
The tension in my muscles melts away, surrendering to the inexplicable pull of his touch. There’s something about him—some kind of spell—woven into every movement, every kiss, that binds me. Each kiss feels like an addictive drug hitting my veins.
When I’m finally limp beneath him, the resistance drained from my body, he pulls back, his lips trailing away from my face and neck. He sits upright, his hands gripping my hips firmly, spreading me wider. Without hesitation, he begins thrusting, his rhythm fast and unrelenting.
Each stroke floods my body with an electric pulse of sensation, the intensity building with every thrust. The bed shakes violently under us. Each brutal thrust lifts me off the mattress and slams me back down, pushing me closer to the edge.
He rides me hard, hips snapping against mine, and I can’t help but take every thrust like I was made for it. His groans grow deeper, and I feel his cock swelling inside me, he’s close.
When the tension inside me finally snaps, pleasure crashes over me in violent waves. At the same moment, I feel hot spurts filling me. Gasping for breath, my body trembling with the aftermath of the storm, I look down in shock.
He pulls out, rolls me onto my side and lifts one of my legs, a smirk curling on his lips. His eyes drop to his cum dripping out of me onto the sheets. My eyes widen in panic. “I’m not on birth control.”
His smirk deepens into a wicked grin. “Good. You’re not supposed to be. Since you won’t run away with me as a pair, we’ll run as a trio. I’m sure you’ll care more about your baby’s life than the honor of the Wife-Killer.”