by Brook Wilder
She heard a swish of fabric as Vittorio stripped himself. Before long, his engorged cock was pushing into her. The rounded, rock-hard head rubbed her sore insides and she couldn’t help but shudder around the ever-pleasant fullness of having Vittorio buried inside her.
Just like he promised, Vittorio started pumping himself in and out of Sharon’s soaking slit with a speed and ferocity Sharon hadn’t felt before. He bottomed out inside her with every powerful thrust, striking a bit of pain in her core amid the earth-quaking pleasure. He grabbed fistfuls of her ass and used her own body as leverage to force more of his giant cock inside her.
“You gonna stop being a bad girl now?” Vittorio panted, still fucking Sharon just hard enough that it felt just as good as it hurt.
“Y-yes,” Sharon cried. “I’ll be a good girl, I p-promise.”
“Yeah you fuckin’ will,” Vittorio encouraged.
He pulled himself out of Sharon and shoved her ass hard with both hands so that she somersaulted backwards onto her back. He grabbed her hair and dragged her towards him until her head hung off the side of the bed. Before she could catch her breath, Vittorio forced his cock into her mouth. Sharon moaned and groaned around his cock, the vibrations in her throat setting him off even more.
“Good girl,” he groaned. Vittorio held both sides of her face and pushed his solid cock as deep into her neck as she could. Sharon gagged, saliva dripping out of both corners of her eyes, her view of his tightening balls blurred by tears.
Just when Sharon thought she was going to pass out from oxygen deprivation, Vittorio pulled back his throbbing member. He stroked it with his hand until it erupted, hot semen covering Sharon’s face. Before she could sit up, Vittorio put a heavy hand on her face, smearing his cum into her eyes and mouth.
Sharon had never felt so degraded… or so alive.
Vittorio walked out of the room, leaving a panting Sharon alone on the bed. She let her head hang off the bed, lost in her Vittorio-induced high. She kept her eyes shut. She could still feel the sticky semen on her eyelids. What a rush, she thought.
Vittorio came back into the room with a towel, which he tossed across the bed. It landed on Sharon’s chest and she used it to wipe off her face.
“Thanks,” she told him gratefully.
“You’re welcome,” Vittorio said dryly. He kept his eyes down as he dressed himself. A dribble of sweat dotted his brow.
Chapter 11
Sharon
Sharon rolled off the bed and slid back into her soft, short cotton pajamas, seductively flicking her hips about as she did. Vittorio devoured her curvy body with his eyes.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” Vittorio said.
Sharon was surprised. “Really? Thank you.”
“You really have no idea, do you?” he asked, finally meeting her eyes.
“Have no idea about what?” Sharon asked, genuinely confused.
“How sexy you are,” Vittorio said, matter-of-factly. “The kind of power you could have over men, with those curves? You’re dangerous.”
“I… wow!” Sharon blushed. “That’s really sweet of you to say.”
“I’m not sweet,” Vittorio said with a shrug. “Just honest.”
“Well, thank you,” Sharon said, still blushing and bashful.
“You’re really… something special.”
As Vittorio said it, he walked fully dressed out of the room. Sharon followed nervously behind him to the kitchen. She watched him pour himself a glass of water and chug it. She watched little droplets of water run down his stubbled jaw. Watching him do something so normal made him seem so much more… human to Sharon. So much more real.
Vittorio slammed the empty glass down on the silvery granite countertop. He looked worked up, a mixture of anger and confusion knotted his face.
“We should go to bed,” he told Sharon, pushing past her to stride down the hall.
“You’re… You’re staying? Sharon asked, pleasantly surprised.
She followed Vittorio down the hall and into the master bedroom. He was dropping the shades to cover the massive wall-length windows and the room descended slowly into darkness. A gloriously shirtless Vittorio slipped in between the smooth sheets, avoiding eye contact with Sharon as she crawled in next to him. His back was tense, and he frowned.
“Is everything okay?” Sharon asked, reaching a tender hand towards him.
Vittorio shirked her attempts at affection. “No,” he admitted.
“What’s wrong?” The concern in Sharon’s voice was genuine as she slowly curled her hand back away from him.
“There’s just no breaking you is there?” Vittorio asked, a fire in his voice.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it doesn’t matter what I do with you!” Vittorio ran a hand back through his thick, black hair. “I’ve taken your virginity and fucked you in ways even slutty girls can’t handle. Shit, I just whipped you with a belt! And even now, here you are, in my bed, still caring about me!”
“Is… Is that bad?” Sharon asked, confused.
“Ugh, no!” Vittorio roared. “It’s not bad, it’s just so strange to me. You’re the only woman I’ve met that’s this strong, that has a heart this big.”
Sharon felt her chest swell. He spoke so softly that she thought she’d never seen him so sweet. Except, maybe with… Lara, Sharon realized. She bet that, if she snapped a picture of them right now, he’d probably very happy, intimate, maybe even glowing, like Sharon had seen in his pictures earlier. Maybe she had been wrong to dismiss her ideas of a future with Vittorio so quickly.
“This is starting to feel like more than just sex,” Vittorio said. He didn’t sound as excited about it as Sharon felt.
“Is that really so bad?” Sharon asked tentatively. She splayed a bare hand across his tense chest.
He inhaled sharply at her soft touch. “Yes; actually it is.”
“Oh.” Sharon withdrew her hand, hurt.
Vittorio caught her hand before she could pull it too far. He squeezed it gently. Sharon was windswept by the touching gesture.
“I just don’t want you to end up like…” Vittorio cut himself off mid-sentence.
Sharon wrapped her other hand around his, so that she cradled his tense hand between her own. Through the darkness, she met his eyes and smiled.
“I understand,” she whispered.
Vittorio leaned forward and kissed Sharon. It wasn’t like the hungry, wanton kisses she had grown accustomed to, though. He kissed her softly, almost tenderly, and a spark passed between them like she had never felt before.
He broke the kiss and maintained her gaze. He smiled a sweet, unguarded smile and muttered, “Thanks.”
“Of course,” Sharon told him. “I’ll always be here for you. Mostly because I don’t have a choice,” she teased.
Vittorio chuckled. “I appreciate the support, be it willing or otherwise.”
“You got it,” Sharon smarted. She lay back and settled into her pillows.
Vittorio held his smile as he lay down next to her. He settled himself on his side and draped his long arm across Sharon’s stomach. She took a deep breath, enjoying the weight of his warm arm across her belly. She brought one hand down to rest on it lightly. Something about that night just felt different, more intimate.
“You really are a piece of work, you know that?” Vittorio mumbled as he started to pass out.
Sharon giggled. The pair fell asleep smiling.
Chapter 12
Vittorio
Early the next morning, Vittorio was leaving the penthouse when his cell phone began to ring. He was surprised to see Marcello’s name. His best friend usually wasn’t awake before noon. He accepted the call. “What’s up?”
“We need to talk. Can we meet?” Marcello sounded strained.
“Sure,” Vittorio agreed automatically. “The diner work for you?”
“Yeah,” Marcello said flatly. “I’ll be there in… fifteen minutes.”
“
See you there.” Vittorio hung up and frowned. He’d woken up in such a good mood. He hated that his work could ruin his days so quickly. He jogged down the stairs to his landing of cars and clicked the fob until the headlights on his Mercedes flashed. He got behind the wheel and started up the swanky car, too distracted to fully enjoy the sweet purr of the foreign engine.
Once out on the road, Vittorio navigated towards “Mama Edna’s,” a Contarini-owned, family-style diner that his father had named after his grandmother. He wondered what Marcello had to share with him and why it needed to be in person. In Vittorio’s business, good news almost never came in person.
Vittorio found a parking spot about a block down from Edna’s and walked the rest of the way with his hands in his pockets. The small diner was packed with the usual morning breakfast crowd. The scent of hot syrup and bacon filled the air. The hostess was one of Vittorio’s young cousins and she waved when she spotted him.
“Got anywhere for a guy to sit?” he asked as she approached him.
“Maybe not any guy, but I’m sure I can find a seat for the boss,” she joked.
Vittorio smiled and followed her further into the restaurant. His cousin found him a freshly vacated booth, the tabletop covered in balled up napkins, mostly-empty plates and puddles of syrup. In next to no time, she had the table cleared and wiped down for him.
“There you go. Good as new,” she beamed.
“Thanks,” Vittorio grinned at her as she rushed back to work. He folded his giant frame into the tiny booth, cursing under his breath as his knees bumped against the underside of the table.
Right on time, Marcello hurried in the front door and snuck through the crowd. He slid into the booth across from Vittorio and ordered a coffee from the eager waitress that approached him. Once she was gone, he looked up at Vittorio.
“What’s going on?” Vittorio demanded.
“It’s Anafesto,” Marcello admitted, keeping his voice low. “I guess he’s not exactly pleased with you. He’s saying you snubbed him at the auction.”
“What?” Vittorio asked incredulously. His lip curled in a sneer. “Crazy old bastard.”
“Well, it’s not just that,” Marcello leered. The waitress returned with his coffee and he thanked her, then winced at the first cheap, bitter sip. “He’s not happy that he lost… the girl… to you.”
“Too damn bad,” Vittorio spat. “Guess he should’ve brought a little more spending money then.”
Marcello shrugged. “You know I don’t have a horse in this race. She seems like a sweet girl, don’t get me wrong. But is any broad really worth the drama Anafesto might start stirring up?”
Vittorio’s fierce gaze darkened. A sudden sense of possessiveness overtook him. “What are you saying exactly?” he growled.
“Nothing, man.” Marcello held up his hands. “You do you.”
Vittorio kept up his glare.
“Look,” Marcello explained. “I just don’t want to, you know, see… stuff happen again.”
Vittorio fought to maintain his steady exterior while his friend’s words struck him like a fist to the gut. Marcello was right, though. He wasn’t ready to risk losing anyone he cared about to the Anafesto regime, especially not Sharon. That sweet little virgin surprised him every day.
Vittorio mulled over his options for a moment before he spoke.
“I think,” he finally said, “I’m gonna go visit the house upstate for a few days.”
Marcello nodded. “Probably a good idea.”
“Can you handle things down here?” Vittorio asked.
“Of course,” Marcello nodded.
“Thanks,” Vittorio nodded at him. “Anything else?”
“Nothing of note,” Marcello said. “Like I said, I’ll handle it.”
“You’re a good man,” Vittorio said, standing and shaking his friend’s hand.
Marcello acknowledged the praise with a humble nod and took another sip of his coffee.
Chapter 13
Vittorio
Vittorio pushed through the throng of bodies out of the diner and onto the sidewalk. He hurried down the block, happy as ever for the crowd-splitting effects of being six and a half feet tall and terrifying. He felt like Moses parting the Red Sea, except the sea was pedestrian scum. He got back in the Mercedes, drove back to the penthouse and took the elevator all the way to the top.
Sharon was lounging on the main couch when he walked in. She looked up in surprise from her phone where she’d been playing a game.
“Missed me that much, huh?” she teased with a smile.
“We need to go,” Vittorio told her bluntly.
Sharon’s smile faded. “Go where?”
“I have a place upstate. We’re going to stay there for a few days.” Vittorio walked right past her to the master bedroom. He was positive he had some luggage stored in the closet somewhere.
“May I ask why?” Sharon inquired.
“No, you may not,” Vittorio told her harshly. He didn’t want to scare her. He also didn’t need her asking more questions and wasting time.
Sharon accepted his answer with a hesitant nod. “What should I bring?”
“Toothbrush, clothes for a few days-”
“Do these count as clothes?” Sharon asked. She held between her fingers the lacy, lavender baby doll that she was wearing. “Because this is kind of all I have.”
“What about those pants you wore on the boat?” Vittorio wondered.
“Oh yeah,” Sharon realized. She found the dark blue chinos tucked in one of the drawers he had given her in the closet. “Still no shirt though,” she complained as she shimmied into the pants.
Vittorio found an old sweatshirt and tossed it at her. She pulled the mountain of fleece over her head and giggled. The sleeves hung way past her hands and the hem of the sweatshirt drooped past her mid-thigh.
Vittorio smiled in spite of himself. She truly looked adorable. “That’ll work,” he told her.
“Alright,” Sharon giggled. After she’d rolled up the sleeves so that she could use her hands, she scooped out an armful of clean bras and underwear and stuffed the lacy rainbow into the suitcase Vittorio had laid on the ground. She stuffed her feet into her leather boating shoes and walked out of the closet. Vittorio heard a drawer open and close somewhere else in the penthouse. When she came back, Sharon had both of their toothbrushes and other various toiletries in a large Ziploc bag.
“Thanks,” he told her.
Once they’d zipped all their belonging up, he shepherded Sharon down to the parking garage. She followed him willingly and easily, which made him feel both adored and powerful. On impulse, he opened his passenger door for her when they got to the car. A beautiful, subtle blush ignited her sweet, round cheeks and Vittorio felt himself smiling in return. Sharon settled into her seat and he closed the door behind her. He walked around the car and tossed the suitcase in the back behind his own seat. Once he was in the car and buckled, he reversed out of the parking space and hurried out of the garage and eventually onto the interstate.
Traffic was surprisingly light as Vittorio headed north and he was thankful for it. He could talk all the shit he wanted about Rocco Anafesto, but the truth was that he was just one cold-hearted son of a bitch. With every mile Vittorio put between him and Sharon, he felt a little bit more tension dissipate from his shoulders.
Sharon was surprisingly quiet as they drove. Out of the corner of his eye, Vittorio could see that she was watching out the window as the buildings gradually shrank and the spaces between them got wider.
“Ever been to upstate New York before?” Vittorio asked her.
“Nope.” Sharon replied. “Never had any reason to.”
“Well, I think you’ll like it,” he told her.
“Why?” she asked.
Vittorio shrugged. “Just a feeling.”
The next few hours zipped by and, before either of them knew it, the pair were coasting through the country. It was chilly and the colors weren’t qui
te as bright in the fall, but it still had a simplistic beauty that never failed to touch Vittorio’s heart in a special way. Sharon continued to look out the window, awestruck by the raw, natural beauty that existed so close to the urban masterpiece of New York City.
Vittorio took a hard left into a smooth, paved driveway that disappeared into the trees. After a few shady minutes, the trees opened up and he heard Sharon audibly gasp next to him.
He couldn’t blame her, really. The Contarini Estate was an impressive piece of architecture. It looked almost like a modern palace, the broad crimson front door flanked by three-story-high Roman-style pillars. Every door and window was decked out in exquisite, aristocratic trim. The house exuded old money and affluence, even before they pulled into the ten-car garage.