“Make me come, Salvatore,” I begged, my body shuddering at my request.
“You want it hard, don’t you?”
“Mmm.”
“Your first time, though?”
He knew that, though he still asked the question while rubbing his cock along my folds. His heat, his hardness, the softness of bare flesh on bare flesh. It all made my eyes roll to the back of my head.
“Yes.”
“Are you scared?”
“No.”
“Maybe I like you a little scared, Lucia.”
The dark whisper made me shudder.
“Maybe I like to hold you down and fuck you hard while you scream. Maybe it turns me on.” He lined himself up between my legs. “Keep your eyes on me. I want to watch you.”
I nodded, swallowing as the head of his cock pressed against my entrance. “Maybe a little scared.” My voice came out hoarse.
“Fear makes your cunt drip.”
He pushed in then, more slowly than I expected, stretching me, the invasion feeling strange, my skin too tight, but as he moved in and out of me, I relaxed, closing my eyes, feeling. And it felt good.
“Eyes, Lucia.”
I opened them, watching him, his face, as he rocked inside me, going a little deeper, taking more of me, pressing against a barrier that had my eyes go wide. I tried to rise, but he rubbed my back.
“Shh. Keep your eyes on me. It will only hurt for a minute. Then you’ll be begging me to fuck you hard.”
I fisted my hands, trying to pull my arms into myself. Salvatore leaned over my back, stretching his arms over mine, his cock lodged inside me.
“I want to feel all of you,” he whispered, moving slowly. “I want to feel your tight cunt squeeze my cock.” He pulled out, then rolled his hips, going deeper. “I want to feel the warmth of your virgin blood.”
He thrust then, making me cry out.
“I want to hear you cry out. I like it.”
Another thrust, harder this time.
“I like feeling you come.”
He slid one hand beneath me, trailing it over my breast, belly, finding my clit. “Oh, G—”
“Hard and soft. I want to fuck you raw.”
He withdrew entirely, then pounded into me, kissing my shoulder, then biting it, his breath ragged.
“I’m going to come,” I managed, his cock inside me hitting just the right spot, his fingers rubbing my clit hard; It was all too much: too much feeling, too much sensation, too much him. Hearing his labored breathing, feeling him swell even thicker inside me, it overwhelmed me. Moments later, I came, my cry sounding foreign, Salvatore’s thrusts harder, faster. I felt raw, like he said, but all I wanted was him inside me, on top of me, having me, his fingers working, making me come.
“Fuck.”
It was more of a grunt, and then he stilled, his cock twitching, releasing, filling me. I watched his face from the corner of my eye, his eyes so dark, they were black, and when he stilled, he collapsed on top of me, flattening me to the bed. His cock softened and slowly slid out. A rush of cum spilled over my thighs as he held me there, his face on my back. He undid the cuffs at my wrists before curling one hand possessively over the curve of my hip and kissing me gently at neck and shoulder until my eyes closed and I drifted off to sleep in his arms.11SalvatoreGrowing up, I’d loved coming to the house in the Adirondacks, but that felt like a hundred years ago. Now, as we neared the property, Lucia sat beside me in the car, everything about her tense. She looked beautiful in the cream-colored dress I’d chosen, her auburn hair piled high on her head, dark eye makeup accenting the almond shape of her whiskey-colored eyes.
I touched her knee as we pulled up to the security gate.
She startled.
“You’ll be fine. I’ll stay with you.”
She nodded, but the tension kept rolling off her.
I hated this. Knew as I waved to the guard and pulled around back to the garage that she was here to be shown around, shown off, a token of my father’s—of my family’s—triumph. I also knew my father had not forgotten what she’d done at the funeral. He would punish her for it, and I had a feeling he’d do it tonight.
I just needed to keep her reined in nice and tight. After parking the car, I climbed out and met Lucia on her side.
“I feel sick.”
I slid her hand inside mine and squeezed. “You’ll be fine. Just breathe.”
We were barely inside the front door when a woman’s voice called out my name. It was Dalia, Roman’s wife.
“Salvatore. There you are. I wasn’t sure I’d see you tonight.”
She leaned in, and I kissed her on both cheeks, as expected.
“Dalia,” I said. I never called her Aunt Dalia. It didn’t fit, not when she was only two years older than me. My uncle liked younger women.