Page 35 of Secret Baby for the Italian Mafia Don

I finish inside her, but I don’t finish with her.

I take the huge pressure of my cock out of her. She cries out as it drags out of her, leaving her open and dripping.

I play sweetly with her clit again, before I dare to slip my fingers back inside her.

“You don’t have to,” she says, as if I’m gonna finish myself and just walk off.

I meet her gaze and keep my fingers pumping inside her cunt.

“Fuck that,” I whisper. “I’m not letting you go until those are tears of pleasure, until you know what it is to have an orgasmdeep in your belly. Until you feel so good, pain won’t be able to touch you.”

“No—”

I curl my fingers and cut that single syllable short, turn it into a breathy and desperate yes.

I’m patient and resolved, curling my fingers into her G-spot and working her up until even the pain of being deflowered can’t get in the way of how goddamn good she feels. I love feeling her twist on my fingers, love the way her belly flutters with pleasure as it ripples through her body. Finally, Ava is right there on the edge.

I have to push her over.

Her eyes wander to the ceiling, rolling. I smack her on the cheek, taking her jaw roughly in my hand as I pound her pussy into oblivion. She gasps at the sting.

“You fucking look at me when I make you come,” I order her roughly.

Ava is drawn into my control, her belly fluttering as she locks eyes with me. I curl my fingers into her deep G-spot and hammer it. Within a minute, the girl is screaming, shaking head to toe as I force another orgasm out of that sore cunt.

Ava collapses, dazed and breathless and sobbing under me.

The girl has six hours to go.

10

Ava

In the bathroom of the hotel room, I stare into a full-length mirror. My body is black and blue and pink, my hair wet with sweat, my thighs tinged with blood. I can barely move. Everything hurts, and the hurt feels good.

Behind me, Nico finishes drawing a bath.

He picks me up and lowers me into hot, bubbly water. The heat soaks into my bones, into parts of me I didn’t even know were aching. I hiss softly as I sink down and the water seeps into my wounds.

Nico sits naked on the edge of the tub. He lathers up a washcloth, and I tell him that I can do it.

“That’s not your call,” he says, reminding me that I am still on his time and under his power. He scrubs me down at the sametime as he feels me up, taking fistfuls of my aching breasts and rubbing them slowly, sensually.

My head feels like static.

Even thoughts feel too heavy to hold for long. I sink into the water and try to pretend that I’m in the most intimate spa in the world. It doesn’t work. I can’t pretend that Nico and I are strangers. I’ve felt him in the deepest parts of me. My womb aches for him, my heart heavy and overfull. He cleans every inch of me meticulously, the hands of a murderer so gentle even when his fingers are smeared with my blood.

“Was it what you were expecting?” he asks.

“It was worse. And better,” I say, avoiding his gaze.

Surprisingly, Nico doesn’t take the opportunity to gloat.

I try to tell myself there’s nothing in there to want. He’s just another possessive man who wants the same thing as everyone else, trying to grab the controls and steer my descent before I spiral into wreckage. It doesn’t hold water when Nico presses kisses on my shoulder, telling me how well I did, how perfectly I handled him.

I have a hard time looking at him, my stomach fluttering under his attention as he praises me senselessly, making me feel weak and stupid for him.

I should have believed him when he said he was going to break me.

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