The sole vision makes me unload so hard it hurts. I grit my teeth and growl as my dick continues shooting cum inside the condom.
“Mmm, fuck. Shit! Yeah, bitch squeeze that cunt.” My cock really needed a good milking. I give one final thrust as the last spurt of jizz leaves my body.
I pull out as soon as I’m done and slide the condom off. I make a knot and throw it on the floor before searching inside my pocket for another one.
“Did you prep your ass?” I find myself asking her.
She replies with a shake of her head and grabs a bottle of lube from the table. “I can do it quickly.”
I grunt. “Next time, be prepared.”
I’ve never taken her back door before, even though she’s offered in the past. But today, it feels different. There’s a deeper desire, a powerful carnal appetite I’ve never felt before.
As usual, I came here to empty my balls, but even though I have a beautiful woman bent over in front of me, stretching her asshole to welcome my dick, the memory of Enzino’s moans and apple scent is the one getting me hard again.
Chapter Five
ART
The fucker is blatantly avoiding me while acting even more like a wacko.
First, he said no—repeatedly and rudely—when I told him I needed a few things from my apartment, then out of nowhere, there he went. So I sent him a list of things I wanted, and all he brought back was a half-empty bag with just a few mismatched clothes, one bottle of shampoo, a cleanser, and a night cream. What kind of brute doesn’t take the conditioner as well? I didn’t get my beauty masks. No body cream, slippers, yoga mat, Kindle, and most importantly, no Denver! That dildo helped me get through really tough times. I need it! My hands can’t get me where I need to go anymore.
On top of that, he barged in on my happy O time in the bathtub, holding a bloody knife. I hate knives. They force me to remember a horrific part of my life and the crippling fear that surfaces with it. There was no O for me after that. He once again rejected my advances, and after handcuffing me to the sofa, he left.
Three hours have already passed. I got a glimpse of the new guy outside the door—Carlo, I presume—he’s tall and cute. Such aloyal soldier checking on me every fifteen minutes…on the dot. Ugh. Where’s Jeff? At least I could chat with him. Was the blood covering Luca’s blade his?
Shit! I can’t sleep like this!
I love nighttime. There are fewer people and no birds. But right now? I’m bored to my eyeballs. The burner phone, which is still safely tucked near my family jewels, is an ancient model, so no internet—the millennials living around here would prefer death to this cell.
Rami is not responding to my texts, while Aurora keeps bombarding me with messages. I asked her to contact me on this phone about business and on the other—which is still in Luca’s hands—about the wedding. We own a club together, and since the partnership is going quite smoothly, we are thinking of buying another one. Hence, the multiple texts.
She isn’t your typical Mafia princess. She is strong, smart, and pragmatic. She comes from a patriarchal family, and her lack of physical balls can’t be filled by the metaphorical ones—even though she has plenty. Bottom line, her father is a selfish misogynist who sold his only daughter to a psycho family—mine—in exchange for money. Well, he won’t be able to use that money in the afterlife. My old man will see to it.
The door opens again, and this time I ask Carlo about my dog.
“Nacho is fine. Mmh, very energetic,” he replies, keeping the door ajar.
I snort, thinking about my horny baby. “He humps everything he can get between those skinny legs.”
“Miss Fantino is fattening him up. She said she can keep him for a few more days.”
I knew she would. She adores Nacho. I’m not worried about him. I just miss him, that wiggling tail and sloppy kisses.
“Thank you.”
He’s about to close the door again, but I need some human interaction, or I’ll turn crazy. There’s no TV, I have no books, nothing to entertain me but myself, and that could cause chaos and mayhem.
“Can you give me some water? It’s been hours and I can’t go get it myself.” I raise my cuffed hand in case he forgot about my chained situation.
He looks at his watch and then quickly walks to the fridge to get a bottle. After leaving it on the coffee table, he returns to his post on the landing.
“How did your boss get those scars?” I ask him just as he grabs the door handle.
He stops and looks straight at me. “Nobody asks about his scars. He made the last person who did swallow six of his own teeth after he knocked them out with his fists.”
I already know Luca Nero is a sadistic wacko. “That’s why I’m asking you.”