I groaned, the feeling shooting up my cock and straight to my balls as I slid forward and sank further into the tight, vice-like grip of her throat. “Fuck, Butterfly,” I moaned, thrusting in and out as tears stung her eyes. They fell, drifting down her cheeks to mix with the water from the shower that dripped off her head.
Her fingers tightened on my thighs, her gaze turning pleading when I pulled her as far onto my cock as I could and held her there. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get a single gasp of air around the part of me that was inside her.
That would be a part of her when I made her drink my cum.
“Do you want to breathe, cuore mio?” I asked, making shallow thrusts. I was so deep in her throat that it would hurt her the next day, and she’d be lucky if she could swallow the food and water I hand-fed her without remembering the feeling of me inside her.
I’d spend every day buried in her throat until she was ready to take me in her pussy and her ass. Keep her filled with me as often as I could, even when I’d finished and we were waiting for me to get hard again.
Then we’d do it all over.
She nodded, her brows pinching when the movement brought her pain. Taking pity on her and the way her eyes bulged, I pulled back…and back…and back until my cock sprung free from the heat of her mouth. She sucked back deep lungfuls of air, her chest heaving with the desperation to breathe as she clutched her throat.
“Do you want to stop?” I asked, touching gentle fingers to the throat I’d just abused from the inside. Shoving her hand aside, I wrapped my palm around the front. She panicked, grasping my hand as she undoubtedly struggled with the memory of the hands that had caused her so many bruises.
She shook it off, shoving down the panic as she stared up at me with a challenge in her eyes. “No,” she whispered, the sound vibrating against my hand.
Smirking, I tilted my head to the side and considered the woman who had turned out to be everything I never could have dreamed of. I’d thought she was a spoiled little princess, but what I’d gotten was a lady in the streets and my own plaything in the privacy of our bedroom.
I guided her back to my cock with my hand around the front of her throat, desperate to feel myself moving through her from the outside. To feel the pressure of me inside her with my grip.
She swallowed me the moment I nudged her throat, taking me deep like the good girl she was and working to take me even deeper on the second try. There was no way she could fit all of me, no possible way for my dick to curve that far down her throat, but damned if she wouldn’t try.
I fucked it, shoving my cock into her face and her throat with hard and fast movements that made her gag and choke on my length while I used her the way she’d used me.
She moaned around me, the vibrations shooting straight through me and pulling an orgasm from me as she tightened her fingers with the need to breathe again. I didn’t relent, pushing her even farther as I chased my climax.
Just before I was about to come, I pulled free from her finally and grabbed her by the face as she drew in deep breaths, squeezing her cheeks until she opened. I stared down at her intently as I grasped my cock in my hand and stroked, edging myself until she was ready for me.
“Open,” I ordered, squeezing until she complied. “Stick out your fucking tongue.”
She did as I told her, opening herself and waiting for me to give her the present she’d worked so hard for, choking on my cock like the perfection she was. Three more strokes of my cock and I erupted, spurting cum on her tongue and watching as she flinched the moment the hot liquid touched her.
She kept her tongue out, letting me finish and stare down at my release on her tongue. “Swallow,” I ordered, watching as she drew her tongue back in and swallowed me down into her belly.
She opened her mouth again without being told, letting me slide in so she could swirl her tongue around me and suck me clean. I ran gentle hands over her hair, watching her work diligently to make sure she got every last drop.
Then I lifted her to her feet, plundering her mouth with my tongue in the desperation to taste the two of us combined. To taste myself on her lips and know that she was irrevocably mine.
She sank into my embrace, her body battered from our workout and the way I’d used her. Grabbing the bottle of shampoo, I gave her what she would always have with me after rough treatment.
She’d know I loved her, even if I couldn’t bring myself to say the words yet.
So I’d show her.
52
IRINA
Scar’s phone rang from its place on the nightstand, dragging me out of the deep sleep that came from my medication and the warmth of him pressing into my spine.
“Fuck,” he groaned, rolling his weight away from me to flounder for the phone. He blinked away the sleep in his eyes, finally managing to slap his palm down on top of it and pull it into the bed with him.
Whatever he saw on the screen had him hoisting himself up to sit as he hit the green button to answer, tossing back the blankets and swinging his legs over the side. “What’s wrong?” I asked, rolling over to face him as he ignored me.
“What is it?” he asked, the deep baritone of his voice echoing through the silence of the room. Something in my veins buzzed, something within my body knew that this phone call in the night was just wrong. “Yeah. Okay.” He nodded, hanging his head forward as he spun to look at me.
His gaze was sad as he pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, storming into the closet and coming back with a stack full of clothes for the two of us. “Get dressed,” he said, setting my jeans and sweater on the bed. I hurried to do as he said, wondering what was important enough for us to be pulled from bed in the middle of the night.
What was important enough for him to let me go wherever he was going, to leave the safety of the Bellandi Estate for the first time since I’d been rescued?
He hung up the phone, shoving his legs into his own pair of jeans and pulling a hoodie over his head. The look was oddly casual compared to the way I’d grown so used to seeing him, either wearing a suit or shorts for his workout.
“What’s going on?” I asked, settling the hem of my sweater at my waist and heading for the bathroom. I dragged my brush through my hair, fighting against the snarls that came from sleeping so deeply that waking me was near impossible.
“Your friend Megan had a scare tonight. She’s safe, but your father says she insists on talking to you and you haven’t answered your phone in months,” he said, referencing the cell we kept turned off in the drawer of his desk.
I wasn’t quite ready to handle the pressures of going back to work and the influx of responsibilities that would come with it. I needed it and the release it provided, but dealing with people was something I couldn’t quite handle. As much as I loved my work with the kids, this time spent in a bubble of bliss with Scar was what I needed here and now.
I needed to ignore the real world for a little while longer before I could figure out what my new place in it would be.
“The guys are meeting us there. We’ll ride with Matteo and Simon.” He typed something on his phone, probably texting the emergency group chat I knew he shared with the Bellandis. He’d somehow programmed it so messages to that chat came through as phone calls, ringing loudly enough to wake the dead.