Page 97 of Fight Me Daddy

"How? My arms are-" The knife pressed against my throat harder and I let out a pathetic whimper.

"That's your problem, isn't it?"

I nodded hard. "Yes, Daddy."

"Do it, cane."

The blade left my neck and I rolled over after struggling for a minute. As soon as I was on my stomach, the sound of ripping fabric reached my ears. Gabriele threw my suit jacket on the floor and the sound of tearing clothes continued. I felt air rush over my hole and I swallowed thickly as I struggled to glance over my shoulder.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

He smirked. "I figured it would be a shame to get you naked when you look so good in a suit," he mused. "So I've made it a lot easier for me to fuck your tight little hole."

I blinked at him. "You're such an asshole. All this because I refuse to give up fighting?"

"You're not going."

I glared not giving a damn about his knife or anything else. "I am. And you're not going to get in my way."

A knock rapped against the door and Six popped his head in. He froze and stared at us before Gabriele growled.

"What?"

"Amadeo, um, wanted me to, um," he stared up at the ceiling. "Oof he was asking about dinner and told me to come get you two, but you are clearly busy doing all of," he made a hand gesture, "all of that so, uh, I'll just go."

"No," I snapped. "Six, get me out of these fucking cuffs!"

Six shook his head. "No way in hell am I getting involved in this. I'm dumb, but I'm not that fucking dumb."

He slammed the door and the sound of his retreating footsteps took any chance of my release with him. I groaned and slammed my face against the bed. I'm going to murder him.

Gabriele walked over to the door and threw the lock before he walked back over. He rustled around before cool, wetness raced down my crack. Lube. I sucked in a breath before the muzzle was wrapped around my face and fixed into place.

"Gabriele."

"Shhh. I'm going to fuck the common sense back into you. Let me work," he said.

I shivered. I'd never known anyone to take sex as seriously as my boyfriend. My eyes widened. Yeah, he was my boyfriend. We were tied together at the hip and I knew there was no escaping Gabriele. And as much as he pissed me off, I didn't want to get away.

Gabriele dragged me down the bed until my feet touched the thickly carpeted floor. He hummed under his breath as he wrapped my collar back around my neck. That was one of the things that survived the fire as well. I hadn't even noticed it at the time, but he always put it around my neck before sex and I didn't take it off until it was time to shower the next day.

Part of me found comfort in it being back around my throat. It made me feel...safe. Gabriele might be rash and impulsive, but he looked out for me. He protected me.

"Ah, there's the leash," he said as he clipped it to my collar and tugged. My neck pulled back and he groaned. "Perfect. My cagnolino is all dressed up." He plunged a finger in my ass and I groaned. "We're just getting started and you're already hungry for more? You really did need this, didn't you?"

No, no, no. This was not what I needed!

I wanted to shout those words at him, but they would be a lie. He'd been soft with me since that horrible day. But I needed something more. I needed my Daddy the way that he was. Vicious, hot, cruel, selfish. He made my brain shut off and all the bad disappeared when he used me.

"Daddy," I groaned and it felt like gold on my tongue to say that again.

"I'm right here." He sank another finger inside of me and spread me open. "And I'll be here all night. Hell even if this takes us a good twenty-four hours I'll be fine." He kissed my shoulder blade before he bit it hard and I cried out. "Because we both need this right now."

I closed my eyes and nodded. Gabriele was right. But more than that I realized how little I had thought about him since the fire. He had saved my life and risked his in the process. And he'd murdered for me afterward and cleaned up my mess. Gabriele had held me every night, kissed me every morning, and told me he loved me as often as he possibly could. And I had let him sit with guilt and pain that it had been his fault. I'd only told him once that I had fault in it, but that wasn't fair. He needed to know that this shit wasn't all on him.

What if he's hurting as badly as I am?

I liked to think of the Bianchi's as the assholes, but I was no better.

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