Page 13 of Snowed in with the Mafia

“So you’ll be able to take my finger without clenching down so hard you’ll break it?” He’s so close that his breath whispers over my clit, and the intimacy is incandescent. Every part of me is set ablaze.

“Yes,” I say as confidently as I can while Vincenzo moves his finger up and down my center, pushing in just a breath before withdrawing. Dear god trying not to grab onto him and suck his finger inside me is a kind of torment I never thought I would experience. At the same time, I also want to close myself up because I know it’ll be too big and hurt.

“Interesting,” he murmurs, but it feels like he’s having a conversation with Nico and Luca, not me.

He then gets up from his chair. My gaze follows him as he surveys the room. He finally pops the dome-shaped stopper off the decanter, then comes toward me, sucking off the alcohol from the other side before he takes his seat again.

My back arches sharply as he drags the cool crystal over my clit, then dips the head of the dome between my lips. It’s thicker than his finger. My mind melts. The foreignness of the object sears me. I squirm to escape, but he only increases the pressure against me. He asks me the same question. Can I take it?

My answer remains the same. I don’t know how much more of his game I can endure. I need it to end right now.

Every sensation, every whimper, is amplified threefold with Nico and Luca’s eyes on me, witnessing everything Vincenzo is doing, their gazes so intense that it feels as if all three of them are touching me simultaneously.

A trickle of my wetness seeps out and slides down to my butt. Not even my shame can stop me now.

Vincenzo gets up again, this time bringing me an ivory-handled hairbrush. The room is so large that I momentarily forget there’s an entire bedroom with a huge bed on one side.

“How about this?” Vincenzo asks as he lets the bristles glide through the neatly trimmed strip on my mound. I fly apart when he lowers the needle-thin fibers over my clit. The prickly sensation is paralyzing, instinctively deeply erotic, and just wrong.

Panic washes over me as the spiky bits titillate my clit, while some hidden sadistic part of me wants to push myself against the bristles to feel their full impact.

But what’s wrong with me? Who am I? I don’t get a chance to answer my own question. Vincenzo flips the brush around and presses the beautiful handle against me. It’s too big. My labia won’t be able to spread enough to accommodate it. My panic escalates. I would be severed if he pressed it inside me.

“I could fuck you with this handle right now, and you’d be able to take it?”

“Yes.” But I croak the confirmation instead.

“Cazzo,” Vincenzo swears in Italian. “Well, then, how about this?” he says, rising. I lift my head to see what more he’s going to do to me. But my world crashes beneath me. It’s incinerated, turned to lava as Vincenzo proceeds to unbuckle his belt. The one from his suit pants. He unbuttons it, pulls down the zipper, and then parts the fabric.

Snowy-white boxer briefs do nothing to hide the colossal size of his erect… cock. My clit starts to pulse; every part of me pulses now with raging intensity. Wetness drips from my pussy, soaking the velvet underneath me. But at the same time, my walls are clenched so tight that I can’t breathe. I want him to…

“Fine. I’m still a virgin. I lied, okay?” I say, defeated.

“Good girl,” Vincenzo says, his voice low and husky as his gaze travels from my face to between my legs. I can’t help the glow that radiates from my skin at his words. “But that lie is going to cost you, kitten.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, panicked anew. I can’t keep up with these men and their curveballs anymore. My mind blanks as I’m unrestrained from the table contraption, but instead of being released, I’m flipped around onto my hands and knees and once again bound to the table. My skirt is pulled up to fully expose my backside. They move in behind me. Oh God. What now?

“Lei è così fottutamente bella,” Luca says. She’s so fucking beautiful.

Chapter Twelve

Alessia

My mouth dries as I use all my energy to fight the cuffs at my ankles, all to close my legs, and the cuffs at my wrists so I can pull down my skirt.

Before I can demand to be released, the print of a huge hand lands on my butt. Somehow, I know it’s Nico without even twisting my head around to confirm. It takes my body a while to catch up to my brain that I have, in fact, been spanked.

“What—” Another strike inflames my flesh, leaving me rattled, hot, and wet, tears forming in my eyes. Then a few more in quick succession.

I didn’t expect the emotional clamoring from the impact of his hand, and I still can’t understand what’s happening to me. An unearthly fever consumes me, and I waver between gasping and sobbing, but more than that is the disbelief.

This is wrong, yet the flood of wetness coating my inner thighs, the swell of my clit, and the pulsing of my entire pussy makes it more sinful. How can I be wet for this? Fresh layers of embarrassment unfold within me with each lash of Nico’s hand.

For a moment, I forgot who I was dealing with. The masters of the Falchi are not considered the most powerful and the most dangerous in the world for no reason, and I’m in their territory now. They’re downright scary and not good for my nerves.

“Will you lie to us again, Alessia?” Nico asks, using my name, forcing me to face that this is happening to me. He’s spanking me, and I’m getting wetter because of it. Two more strikes and I’m done.

“I won’t. I promise. I won’t. Please stop. I won’t ever lie to you again.”

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