Page 62 of Porcelain Lies

“Suck harder,amore mio.” His grip tightens in my hair. “Use your tongue like you mean it. You remember how.”

My eyes spring open at the flash of memory — Gianni’s eyes closed in pleasure, his hands gentle as he touched me. But that was before, when I trusted him. When I believed in our future.

Now, I’m just another item to be used in his portfolio of possessions. My teeth graze him lightly, and he curses, his hips jerking.

“Faster.” His voice grows ragged. “Suck it like you want it, Stella.”

The sound of his demand spurs me on, instinct taking over as my movements become more desperate. I want this over. I want to get Nick and myself out of danger forever.

My mind is blank as I focus on the rise and fall of my mouth, the wet sounds punctuating Gianni’s harsh breathing. His grip tightens on my hair, guiding me with a demanding rhythm as he thrusts into my mouth.

I gag again, my throat protesting the pace. Tears well in my eyes, but I don’t stop, my jaw aching as I keep going. I will not give him the satisfaction of my resistance.

The hand on my head relaxes slightly, giving me a second to breathe. I use the opportunity to reach down, cupping his balls with my left hand while my right continues to stroke.

His breath hitches as I lightly scrape my nails against the sensitive skin of his scrotum. “Don’t stop sucking,dolcezza.” His voice holds a warning.

Obediently, I increase the pace of my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip, tasting the salty musk of his excitement. My right hand moves faster, mimicking the bob of my head.

His hips jerk suddenly, and I gasp as he fills my mouth, the warm liquid coating my tongue. I swallow, suppressing my reflex to gag, my eyes squeezed shut as I endure the bitter taste.

Oh God, I’m going to be sick!

I’m going to throw up all over him!

I think of scientific formulas, neurotransmitter pathways, anything to stay disconnected from this moment.

“That’s my good girl.” His voice turns silky again as he frees my hair from his grasp. “You do still love me. Admit it.”

I pull back, my lips sliding off him with a final slurp. His fingers linger on my jaw for a moment, tilting my face up to his.

“No.” I spit the word at him, repulsion sharpening my tone. “This isn’t love. It’s a trade.”

His dark eyes narrow, and I see the spark of irritation in their depths. He straightens, dismissing my words with a shrug.

“Call it what you want,dolcezza.” He smirks. “You can get up now.”

Staggering to my feet, my legs carry me to his marble bathroom. The door slams shut behind me. The sound breaks something inside me.

I hit my knees in front of the toilet, my body convulsing as I retch. The taste of bile fills my mouth. Tears stream down my face, ruining my careful makeup. My silk blouse sticks to my clammy skin.

My hands shake so badly I can barely hold my hair back. Another wave of nausea hits. I heave until there’s nothing left but bitter acid burning my throat.

I push myself up from the cold tile floor, legs trembling. The faucet squeaks as I turn it on full blast. Water splashes over my hands, but I can’t get them clean enough. I scrub until my skin turns raw.

My reflection shows mascara tracks down my cheeks. I grab one of Gianni’s pristine white hand towels and scrub violently at my face, satisfaction flaring as my lipstick and foundation stain the expensive fabric.

The taste of bile lingers. That, and something else that makes me dry-heave yet again. I squeeze toothpaste directly into my mouth, swishing it around before spitting.

Not enough.

I do it again. And again. My gums start bleeding from how hard I’m scrubbing with my finger.

A knock at the door makes me jump.

“The money’s on the kitchen counter,cara.” Gianni’s voice carries through the wood. “Unless you’d like to stay for round two?”

My stomach heaves again but there’s nothing left to bring up. I grip the edge of his marble sink, forcing air into my lungs.

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