My fingers move faster and faster between my legs. His other hand closes around my neck and holds me up as the palm rises again.
This time, when it comes down, the sting blooms into a wet heat that runs straight to my throbbing clit.
“And this,” he says against my ear. “Is for thinking this dress is an appropriate thing to wear to church.”
This time, his fingers slide between my thighs from behind and find me slick and ready. He pushes inside and I scream in pleasure at how completely he dominates me. His hand works in time with mine towards the impending orgasm. My legs start to shake.
He presses his lips against my ear. “Which is exactly why I want you to wear it to church.”
Just as I’m seconds away from the peak, he pulls away, takes my hand between my legs, and presses it against the mirror, leavingbehind a wet streak against the cool smooth surface. I buck my hips against him, seeking contact in any way I can.
“So that I can identify every man who dares to look at you,” he bites the shell of my ear. “And know exactly who to bury after."
And that’s when I come. Not by his hands nor by mine, but by his fuckingvoice. My eyes roll into the back of my head as I scream against my own soaked panties in my mouth underneath him. My body folds against his, and the shame of it all crashes through me even before the pleasure has finished.
He lets go of my hand against the glass and rips the panties out of my mouth. I pull in a deep breath before a long ragged scream echoes off every surface of the room. He kicks my legs open and pulls me close to let the fire of his body overwhelm me.
He hooks his finger under my chin, and tilts my face to his to capture my lips. I come again and again, pussy clenching uselessly against literal fuckingnothingas he drains the air from my lungs and devours my screams.
13
NICO
“You were supposedto be watching her,” I say to Anastasio. “Not fucking the store girl.”
"I was watching her."
“Then how the fuck did that cop get to her?”
He has the decency to not try and dispute real facts. The fight slacks out of his shoulders and he shakes his head.
“No excuses, Don Nico.”
“You can’t fuck up like this again, Stas.” I pour a finger of scotch and slide it towards him.
“I won’t,” he says. “I swear.”
“Tell me what else happened today.”
“She was asking questions about you and about your childhood.” He looks at the glass but doesn’t pick it up to drink. “About your scar.”
I clench my jaw. “And what did you say?”
“Nothing. Told her that she wouldn’t like digging too much into your past.”
“Hmm.” I nod. “Good answer.”
"There's more. Two things, in fact." He leans forward. "That cop. The one whose throat you nearly crushed in front of God and forty witnesses?"
He pauses, and I know Anastasio well enough to know that the pause means he's deciding just how much I can stand to hear.
"He’s OCCB. Flashed me his patch when he first came over like he fucking owned the place."
Cazzo.Not a beat cop and certainly not some precinct nobody I can make disappear behind a desk full of favors.
The one division in this city built to take families like mine apart, brick by brick, with a man who now has my face memorized and my hands around his throat as a grievance.
“And the second thing?”