Chapter 1 #7
Oh my God, Daniel, you picked the perfect moment to check in on my personal growth. I push Gio again, but the asshole won't budge. Nothing can stop him when he wants dick, swear to God, once he locks in, he does not let go.
"Our kid... yeah... perfect! Doing great. Sleeping." I squeeze my eyes shut. "I'll video call you later—"
Gio's hand joins in. At the same time as his mouth. He's doing it on purpose, I swear. His hand and his mouth move in the same rhythm, up and down. "I'll call you so you can see him... if you want. When he wakes up."
"Perfect!" Daniel says. "Happy birthday again, poker freak." "Thank you so much," I whisper, eyes clenched tight. He hangs up and I rip the blanket off his head.
"Are you insane?"
"What?" he says, eyes glinting. "I'm just giving you your second birthday gift." He's looking right at me while he puts me back in his mouth like it's nothing.
He yanks the blanket off himself too now, like he wants the view to be crystal clear. My back arches. I grab one of the throw pillows and cover my face, biting it, sweating, because holy shit, our kid is literally asleep in the next room.
Gio does not care.
He's doing everything he possibly can to make me scream. Still going. Head bobbing, tongue everywhere, spit running down while he's baptizing my dick in it.
It's obscene. I'm twitching, mumbling things I don't even hear coming out of my mouth. I've held it in long enough. I can't take it anymore. I cum hard right into his mouth, and he doesn't stop. Keeps sucking through it. Keeps his lips wrapped around me, swallowing every last drop.
I grab the couch like it'll save me. Like something has to save me, because this is demonic.
I'm going to die. I'm going to fucking die, and my cause of death is going to be "the most violent blowjob known to man." He grabs my thighs and I accidentally push his head in too far, but of course he doesn't complain.
Of course he just fucking takes it. By the time I'm done, my heart's in my throat. My chest is rising like I just ran for my life.
His cheeks are red. Like someone painted them. His lips are red too, swollen and wet, and he's grinning, proud. Fucking proud of himself. He pulls me in by the neck and kisses me.
"That was your second gift."
I don't even answer. I'm still dizzy from the orgasm, barely breathing. This is peak life. I don't even know who to thank. Is this like... a reward? For being humble all those years?
Because lately, it feels like life's spoiling the shit out of me. Not complaining. Not even a little.
I just can't wrap my head around how lucky I feel to be here.
22) Don’t Trust Anyone
Rava
I've got a rare day off and I don't even know what to do with that. Antonio is at my mom's, the house is quiet for once, and I'm just... waiting for Gio to come back so we can eat together.
Maybe put on a movie. Who am I kidding, he's got the gym later, he's definitely gonna say no to the movie.
Whatever. I'll annoy him until he caves.
The doorbell goes off. Oh. I glance at the clock.
It's only noon. He said he'd be here after 12:30. No way he's early. That's illegal for Gio. I get up, walk to the door, and peek through the peephole.
Two guys.
A bit older than me, maybe. They look like they just walked out of prison or a very specific part of Gio's past he never lets me meet. Jesus.
"Um... who is it?" I ask before even touching the lock.
"Hey, Rava!" one of them calls, too casual, too loud. "Sorry for dropping by out of nowhere, don't freak out. We're two of Gio's friends, he told us to swing by and drop off some books he borrowed or some shit."
The other one lifts his hands like he's getting arrested. "Don't stress, man. We're not cops. He hates them, you know that." They both laugh at their own joke.
I'm still staring through the peephole like a freak, brain trying to cross-reference their faces with literally anything Gio might've mentioned.
Nothing.
"Also, tell him Duke said he needs a haircut." I snort despite myself. Of course he has a friend called Duke.
I unlock the door and open it a little. "Hey. And yeah, sorry for the surprise visit," he says, smiling. "Here." He hands me a plastic bag.
"Thanks," I say, laughing a bit. "You're so sweet for bringing them."
"I know, right?" he grins. "Can't believe Gio turned into a family man. Swear to God, we all thought he'd die alone. No offense."
We both laugh, because... yeah, fair. "I'm glad he proved you all wrong," I say. I look at the other guy. He's shifting from foot to foot, jittery like he's got ants in his pants.
"You good?" I ask.
"Yeah, I just really need to piss, man. I'm gonna explode." He looks at the first guy. "Can we go?"
"Wanna come in? We've got a bathroom," I offer, already stepping back a little to make space. "Oh, no, no, it's fine, we don't wanna bother you—"
"It's not a bother," I cut him off with a small laugh. "Come on, it's just the bathroom."
He hesitates for half a second, then shrugs. "Alright, cool. Thanks, man."
"Make it quick," Duke tells him, rolling his eyes. "You're so dramatic." They step inside and I close the door behind them. "The bathroom's down the hall, all the way in, left," I say, pointing.
"Lifesaver, bro, thanks," the guy says, already heading that way. I glance at the other guy while his friend disappears down the hall.
He's standing in the middle of the living room, eyes moving slowly over everything.
The couch. The shelves. The photos. The plants Gio swears he doesn't care about but waters secretly.
"Nice place," he says. "I'm lowkey jealous of Gio, not gonna lie."
I laugh. "Yeah, it's cozy."
"Cozy," he repeats, like he's testing the word. "Yeah. Cozy." He keeps looking around and my stomach does that warm, stupid thing it does whenever someone says something good about our life.
"Do you want something to eat?" I ask. "I can make you a sandwich or something."
He shakes his head immediately. "No, I'm good, sweetheart. You're already letting my dumbass friend use your bathroom, that's enough."
I smile, feeling my face heat up. "So, how do you know Gio?" I ask, leaning against the wall.
"Oh, man. We go way back. The amount of races we've done together?" He waves a hand. "Crazy. Your husband is a legend."
My husband. I look down and smile. I love hearing other people hype him up. It makes me feel less insane for thinking he's the coolest person on earth.
"Were you at the race? The one with the Escobar incident?" I ask.
"Bro, yeah," he says immediately. "What even was that?! I didn't think Escobar was that pressed. That move was so childish."
"That's what I've been saying!" I answer, getting into it. "Like, over what? Ego?"
"Pure ego. Dude can't handle losing. Especially not to Gio." From down the hall, the other guy shouts. "Rava, dude, do you have any toilet paper? I think this one's out!"
Out? Seriously??
My brain kicks me in the face.
How did I let the bathroom run out of toilet paper? I never let that happen. I'm slacking. I need to get my life together, actually. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry!" I call back. "Hang on, I'll grab some from the storage room!"
"Take your time, bro!" he yells. "I'm not going anywhere!" I huff a laugh and head to the little storage room, open the cupboard where we keep the extra packs.
Thank God I bought a ton yesterday, because imagine the humiliation. I'm reaching for the plastic-wrapped pack when I hear it. The door behind me. Closing.
Click. Lock.
I freeze. Turn around fast. The handle doesn't move.
No. No, no, no, no, no. No.
"Sorry, man. Nothing personal. With you, at least." His voice comes through the door and my blood runs cold.
"Open the door!" I scream, slamming my palms against it. "You don't understand—I'll give you whatever you want, I swear, just get me out of this room," I sound completely desperate and I am.
I yank the handle again and again, throw my shoulder into it, useless. The lock doesn't even pretend to move. I clamp my hand over my mouth as it hits me what I just did.
What a massive, life-ruining fuckup I just pulled.
Gio is going to come home and—Oh my God.
I press my ear to the door and I can hear them. Going through everything. Drawers. Shelves. Doors. Stuff being dragged, things hitting the floor, wood, metal, glass, I don't even know. I keep fighting the door and trying not to cry at the same time.
I'm failing both. The room gets smaller.
"Please," I beg, voice breaking. "Please, if it's money, I'll give it to you, okay? I promise, I'll give you whatever you want, I won't be a problem. Just don't do this. Please don't."
Another crash.
Something falls, then another. One of them curses, the other one answers back, they're moving faster now. It's over. I can already smell the divorce. I'd sign it myself. I'd deserve it.
I am the most irresponsible man alive and right now I hate myself more than I've ever hated anybody in my entire life.
"Shit—" he gasps, and now the footsteps are heavier, like they're lifting something big.
The bike. Gio's bike. I don't know which one. But I know it's a bike. Tears spill over, sliding down my cheeks while my brain plays out exactly what's about to happen in a few minutes.
Gio walking into a wrecked house.
Our safe place turned inside out. His things gone. His bike gone. And me, his idiot of a husband, locked in a fucking storage room because I let two strangers into our home like the dumbest man alive.
He's going to open that door and see a destroyed house and a failed spouse who literally invited the danger in. "I'm so fucking sorry," I choke into the door, voice shaking. "Gio, I'm so fucking sorry."
I hear Gio's car. My whole body is shaking at a level that should probably be medically studied. I don't even know what exactly is waiting outside this door. I have no idea what he's about to walk into.
But judging by the sounds I heard before, it's fucking bad. And it's completely my fault. All of it is my fault and my idiot, soft-brained, "trust people" personality.