CHAPTER 7
Tino
There was something about Angel tonight. Something different yet so familiar. It reminded me of that night we first bonded over blood. No, not the first time I fucked her while she was on her period. It was the night I killed her father.
That innocent, twelve-year-old girl sat next to her sister wrapped in a blanket while the police offered their condolences and tried to assure them they were going to be all right. Except Angel didn’t bother to listen to their words. All she was doing was looking through the woods. Looking for me.
I’d never forget her face that night. She wasn’t fazed by the murder. Her eyes were sparkling with a gleam only a man like me recognized and knew like the back of his hand. That night, I found out, behind those innocent eyes, there was something else, something hidden in the dark that only I could see.
Our bond.
Right at that moment, I knew I had to protect that girl every step of the way. From evil. From pain. From the darkness. From me. But above all, from herself.
Her face tonight reminded me of that darkness I thought I’d contained in her, but the second Arancia went through that door with the dinner tray, I knew Angel was up to no good.
In a flash, Angel smashed the tray and its contents on the floor and grabbed the plastic knife and broke it in half. Then she held the sharp edge to her wrist when Arancia tried to stop her.
“If you come near me, I’ll slit my wrists. It’s sharp enough to cut through my skin,” Angel threatened, and Arancia halted in place.
“In fact,” Angel spoke to the ceiling, “if you don’t come down here right now, I’m gonna do it anyway.”
Slowly, I let out a breath and then a laugh. “You think you can force my hand, Angel? You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.” I shut down the feed and went to her wing.
When I burst open the door, Angel’s chest heaved, and tears sprung to her eyes. Her lips quivered for a moment, but then I could swear there was a tiny smirk of triumph on them as she stuck her chin up and kept the broken knife closer to her veins.
“She’s still a handful, Don Bellomo. Some things don’t change,” Arancia said.
I nodded for her to leave. She obeyed without hesitation. As her heels echoed outside, I slammed the door shut. Angel’s breaths accelerated, audible in the room. I closed the distance between us in two strides. Then I knocked the stupid plastic thing out of her hand with a slap, and I twisted her arm behind her back while I grabbed a fistful of her hair and pressed her face against the wall.
“If there is a God, then I’m yours. You will live when I say you live. You will die when I say you die. Your soul doesn’t belong to you anymore, Angel. It’s mine, like everything you are.”
“Yes, Tino. I’m yours. Always.” Her body trembled against mine, and her scent— cazzo —along with the heat of her body against my skin made me feral. I fucking hated how much every fiber of my body ached from missing her.
I ripped off her flimsy nightgown, and she gasped. When I forced her on her knees, she gasped louder and looked up at me, in anticipation rather than fear. Then her eyes and little hands settled on my belt.
“You little whore.”
She fumbled around the buckle and slowly unzipped my pants. “ Your little whore misses you.”
I let her pull my cock out, and her tongue darted out, licking her lips as she felt how hard I was. That fucking triumphant smirk jumped on her face again, lighting up her eyes. “Be mad at me all you want, hurt me all you want,” she brought her mouth closer to my cock, “but you can’t deny that you miss me, too.”
She was right. I did miss her. And the view of her naked, on her knees, with lips close to my cock without having them wrapped around me, was driving me insane. I tangled my fingers in her hair and pulled her to me. “Wipe that smirk off your face and find a better use to that mouth.”
She opened wide as I shoved my cock down her throat. She moaned around me as she tried to fit me in. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked vigorously, struggling but too eager to please.
The wetness of her tongue around my crown and shaft dragged a hiss from me. That past week was hard. Before I had her, I’d waited for years that I’d once thought were the longest. But they were nothing compared to the last seven days. Fuck you, Angel. I took her in. Kneeling in supplication, moaning her prayers for forgiveness, whispering her remorse through the slurps. “ Come una puttana in chiesa …”
She released me with a pop and glanced back up at me. “Like a whore in church?”
“Your Italian is getting better, unlike your cock-sucking skills. Did I say you could fucking stop?” I pulled her back on me, shoving all my length down her throat so fast she almost gagged.
She moaned loudly as she tried to work her way around the size of my angry erection and I yanked harder on the back of her hair. Her fingers played with my balls, too, as she sucked, making me want to nut in her mouth.
Right at the edge, I pulled her head away from me, ripping her off my cock.
Her tits rose and fell rapidly as she stared up at me, her face a question mark. “Let me finish you. Please.”
“You think you can fuck your way out of this, Angel? You suck my dick and we’re even?”
“I’ll do anything you want me to do. Take any punishment you see fit. Treat me like a whore. Use me for your pleasure. Have your revenge, Tino, in any way you need. Anything so you can come back to me.”
To come back, I have to leave first. I never left you, Angel. Never could. Never will. You’re the poison I have to take a sip of every day so it won’t kill me, except no amount is ever enough. The bane of my existence. I can never leave you, Angel.
“Get on the bed,” I ordered.
She stretched to get up, but I shook my head. “On all fours like a literal bitch,” I said. “Crawl to bed, and when you climb on top, stay on all fours.”
The victory she’d thought she scored ebbed away from her gaze as she reluctantly pressed her palms to the floor. I waited for her beside the bed, watching as humiliation reddened her face while she crawled to me like an ungrateful pet. A pretty scene. Prettier if she was crying, too.
I took off my belt and whipped her ass. Once. Twice. Three times. Ten fucking times until she was whimpering. Much better.
When she reached the edge of the bed, she struggled to get up, so I grabbed her by the hair and forced her on the mattress. Her painful moans through the tears were like a nice sedative numbing the flames that had been gnashing at me yet burning me with desire. I stiffened even harder than when she was sucking me as I positioned her that she was on all fours, her ass in the air, red and tender, ripe for the taking.
“Look at me,” I said.
She coaxed her head and looked at me, chin wobbling, pain coloring her expression.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to ask your son if he’s been raped in the ass by your best friend? For a whole year?”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth parted with no words, only horror.
“What if it was Nicco? How would you feel, Angel?”
Her whole body quivered, silent tears dropping on the sheets. “I didn’t know.”
“You knew exactly who Il Coyote was. You knew everything.”
“I swear to you, on Nicco’s life, on yours, on Nicky’s, I didn’t know Domenico was going to hurt Leo. All we agreed on was keeping Leo locked away.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I smacked her sore flesh, and she flinched with a wince. “Since I made you my wife, I’ve never taken your ass. I was afraid to break you because of how fragile you are. The spanking, the belt, the cuffs you can take, but this,” I parted her cheeks and rubbed myself against her tiny, little hole, “this is gonna hurt like a motherfucker.”
Panic laced her screams as she tried to wiggle and writhe away, but I held her in place, gripping her hips with ironclad fists.
“Oh my God! Tino! Please!”
“Please what, Angel?”
“Don’t…do this. Please.”
“Do you think he stopped when Leo must have asked him to?”
Her moans turned into wails. “How can I make you believe I didn’t know?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I brought her mouth to my cock again and made her suck me, forcibly. She cried harder as she covered my erection with drool and protesting groans, the brazen pleasure she was having with me earlier gone, replaced by humiliation and dread. I pulled away when I was satisfied. “You made it wet enough like a good bitch. Now, take it like I say you take it.”
She whimpered as I pressed the tip to the tiny opening even I had doubts it could fit. “Anal could be very pleasant with the right preparation,” I entered her with my middle finger first, dragging a little scream from her throat, “lube, stretching, toys and lots of foreplay before the big act, but backstabbing bitches like you only gets the tearing pain of getting fucked in the ass with a big fat cock that wants you ripped in half.” I pushed two fingers in and out while her screams grew louder, and then I leaned in and bit her earlobe. “A cock that’s not afraid of blood.”
Her head dropped as her gasps panicked. I held her hips and thrust in.
“Oh, no, no, No! Please! I’m begging you. It hurts,” she sniffled between screams.
Cazzo, she was so tight. I had to use some force to just get the tip inside. It was so fucking good, and the pleading, quivering cries added to my pleasure.
After a few more thrusts, I was able to get a few inches in, but her legs were trembling and she went silent, as if in shock from the pain. No, that won’t do. She needs to be here, feel every pain, scream with every move.
I grabbed a little combat knife I always kept in my sock—a man like me couldn’t afford to walk or even sleep unprepared—and I made sure she heard it unsheathing.
She glanced at it in terror. “What—what are you—gonna do with—this?”
“Did you know Il Coyote liked to carve shit on his prisoners’ bodies before he flayed them and fed them to the actual coyotes?”
A broken sound gurgled at the back of her throat.
“What was that? I couldn’t hear it.”
She didn’t speak, so I thrust deeper. Her head lolled back with a bellowing scream. “Please! Stop!”
I slid the blade on her skin, teasing her, enjoying the shudders of her body. “Lucky for you, knife play isn’t my thing…neither is branding. Otherwise, I’d have carved wings all over your back to make you a real angel and then branded you my bitch on various places of your gorgeous body.”
She mumbled something too low to hear.
“Speak up!”
She flinched, her flesh glistening with sweat. “I said thank you, Tino. Thank you for not hurting me like that. I am lucky.”
That went straight to my cock even when I was aware of all her games; she was only saying that to play me. “Oh yeah? Well, don’t thank me yet.” I grabbed a long strand of her hair. “Because I’ll still do that.” I cut it short with the knife and dropped it on the mattress in front of her.
She shook with all the sobs and moans and whimpers, all the beautiful sounds I needed to hear, as with every thrust that painfully took her ass virginity, I chopped off parts of her beauty that enthralled me, cutting pieces of her and tossing them like they were trash.
By the time I was deep inside her, filling her with my engorged cum, she was nothing but a bundle of broken sobs with a rough pixie cut. I pulled out and sighed as I took her in.
“Did that please you, Tino? Tearing me apart, making me ugly?” she whispered.
Ugly? I don’t think you’ve ever been more beautiful, my Angel. The hold she still had on me, even in her most vulnerable time, enraged me, destroying the satisfaction I thought I’d gotten from ruining her like that.
Dannazione. I’ll just have to hurt her some more.
“By the way, tomorrow Leo and Nicole will pay the traitor a visit. I think you have a pretty good idea what’s going to happen, and how devastated your sister will be. You won’t be there for her, and she’ll always remember that, just like she’ll remember that all the mess her life has become, all the pain she has to deal with on her own from now on is because of you.”
As if that wasn’t enough, I also had to say, “And one more thing,” I nodded at the scattered, broken plates on the floor, “you don’t seem to appreciate what I give you, so no food for you for three days until you learn your lesson. No Nicco, too, since you won’t be able to eat in order to feed him,” I smirked at her crumbled body and the little trail of blood coming down her back thigh, “or even sit to hold him.”