“You know what I mean, Anthony.” He straightens his back and meets my gaze head on. I have to hand it to him, he deserves to be boss. But I can fucking smell his fear from here.
“I bought her, and now she’s mine. That’s what happened. End of story,” I say flatly.
“It’s not the end. You also agreed to one month, and that’s what they were told,” he says.
“I didn’t--” I start to answer, but he cuts me off.
“You did.” He says the words with finality. I never should’ve said it was his call. It pisses me off. I shouldn’t have trusted him. It wasn’t his decision to make.
“I have work to do, and I need to get home to check on her before bed.”
“Check on her?” he grunts a humorless laugh and it takes everything in me not to plant a fist on his jaw. I can hear Aunt Linda in the kitchen and the kids playing not twenty feet from us. I clench my fists at my side, but hold back. I finish the beer and grab my keys off the table.
Checking on her is my job. This isn’t about getting laid, it’s not about fucking her or using her, or demeaning her. That’s not what I want. This is more than that. It’s deeper than Vince could possibly know. It’s about having someone need me. And she does, whether Vince likes it or not.
“I mean it, Anthony,” he says to my back.
I don’t answer him. I still have time with her. It may be best that I don’t get too attached though. I close my eyes as I open the door and step out into the night.
The cold air whips against my skin. She’s in a cell for trying to get away from me, for fuck’s sake. I shake my head and feel torn. I thought this would be perfect, but it’s not.
I’m just damaged goods. That’s all I am.
Perfection doesn’t exist. Neither do fantasies.
Catherine
I wake to the faint hum of the lights being turned on in the cell. I’m so fucking cold. The only thing he gave me besides the chair was my chenille throw. At least it was freshly washed. Not like that matters now though, since I've got it bunched up underneath me as a makeshift mattress. It fucking sucks.
The lock clicks and the doorknob turns. I quickly get into position. I’m mindful of keeping my hands exactly how he likes them.
My heart flutters in my chest. Last night he didn’t stay. He left me with dinner and watched me eat it in silence. An air of disappointment and distrust surrounded him. I don’t understand why he’s angrier with me now than he was when he put me in here. I feel like I’m failing, and I don’t know what I’m missing. I wish I could go back in time. If I could, I would.
He walks in front of me and stops. I look up at him, hopeful that today he’s in a better mood.
“Good morning, kitten,” he says simply.
“Good morning, Anthony,” I respond.
He puts a bowl down on the floor. It’s oatmeal with strawberries and cream. It’s my favorite. I had a shit-ton of it at my house and I find myself wondering if he went back there. I want to know if he was able to find the earrings, but I don’t ask. I stay in my position and look at the bowl and then back at him. He didn’t feed me dinner last night like he did before, and I didn’t think much of it. But this morning reminds me of the first time we met, of him feeding me.
He shakes his head no and walks to the chair to sit down. “You don’t get my touch in here, kitten. That’s part of your punishment.”
My heart sinks as I pick up the bowl and watch him cross his arms. I feel fucking sick. He’s so fucking angry with me, and I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to take it back. I had to try though, didn’t I? No, I chose to.
“I got your earrings. You won’t get them until you’re back in your room.” His voice has a hard edge.
“Thank you.” My voice cracks, and I have to take a deep breath to steady myself.
“What do they mean to you, kitten?” The use of my pet name brightens my spirit and my chest fills with hope. It’s not lost on me that if he decides not to forgive me, he could kill me. He will kill me. It’s not just that though. I hurt him. I disappointed him. That shouldn’t affect me like this, but it does.
I jump at the opportunity to answer. And at the chance to do something and to talk to someone after spending hours alone and barely sleeping in this room. “They were my mother’s.” I wipe the sleep from my eyes and clear my throat of the knot growing there.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” His words are short and simple, but I can hear the faint compassion in his voice.
“Cancer,” I answer as I stir the oatmeal. I’m hungry, but it’s not nearly as appetizing as it was before. I don’t talk much about her. I don’t like remembering.
“I know,” he says, not moving from his position. A small, sad smile forms on my face. Of course he knows.
“Do you want to play the game, kitten?” he asks.
“Yes,” I immediately answer, and I don’t even care that I sound desperate. I fucking hate that game, but I want him to stay.
“How does a girl like you wind up with a man like Lorenzo?” I hate his question. I don’t want to talk about him or think about him. I have to work hard not to show how upset it makes me.
“I just needed something different. He distracted me, I guess.” He did. I nod my head thinking about how I went from crying all day and struggling to pack up my mother’s things, to getting drunk and doing things I never thought I would.
“So you went for the bad boy.” He says the words like he’s disgusted by them, which is fucking ironic.
“It works in the books,” I barely get the words out. It’s what I really wanted. I wanted to find love. Even if he didn’t love me back at first, I was hopeful that I’d eventually find my own happily ever after. I thought I'd found a hard man who’d melt for me in time. Instead I found an abusive fuckface. 'Cause let’s be real, that’s what life gives you when you go out looking for Mr. Wrong.
“Your turn, kitten. One question.” He leans forward in his seat like he’s ready to leave, and I hate it.
I ask the one thing that’s been on my mind for hours. One thought that sickens me. I wish he’d just hit me and make that my punishment. I’d let him beat me if it meant this would be over with.
“I’m surprised you haven’t hit me,” I say. He makes no move to answer me, and there's no change in the expression on his face. He's silent for a moment.
“I don’t want to hit you,” he finally answers. And I believe him.
“Why?” I just don’t understand. Lorenzo thrived by showing me how strong he was. He fucking loved dominating me physically. I keep expecting the dams to break and for Anthony to let loose on me. I expect to be physically punished for my infractions. I'd thought he was restraining himself before, but now that I look back on it, I don’t think he was.
“I’ll never hit you. My father used to hit my mother, and it made her do bad things. I don’t want that for you or anyone else.”
“I’m so sorry.” My heart twists with agony. That’s a horrible thing to grow up with. I can’t even imagine. My own father passed away when I was younger in a car crash. I hardly remember him. I can’t imagine growing up in a house with abuse. My eyes search his, but he gives nothing away. “Bad things?” I ask tentatively.
“She beat me instead since she couldn’t hit my father back.” My mouth falls open with a gasp as he continues. “I was young, but I remember.” His voice is flat and devoid of emotion. My heart is fucking destroyed by his words.
“I’m so sorry.” I shake my head, as though I can deny the truth.
“She’s dead now.” My throat closes and dries. His life just gets sadder and sadder. I want to scoot closer to him, but it’s obvious he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want sympathy. I don’t even think he’d accept compassion.
“Did your father...?” I don’t finish, but I don’t have to. He nods his head once with his eyes locked on mine.
“He killed her when he saw what she’s done; snapped her neck in front of me. He thought he was doing t
he right thing.”
My mouth hangs open in shock.
“I don’t even know if he ever hit her or if he didn’t love her. I know next to nothing about what their relationship was like, apart from what my mother told me. We never talked about it. She beat me and he killed her for it. That’s all I know.” He gives me a sad smirk. “There’s a lot of, ‘let’s not talk about it’ that happens in the familia.”
“I’m so sorry.” I repeat my words; I don’t know what else to say. I feel pathetic that I have nothing to offer him. Tears threaten to fall. I feel nothing but empathy for him and the pain he must’ve felt. Both our mothers are dead, but mine never hurt me. I never once questioned if mine loved me.
“Don’t be. My brother’s always been there. And in a lot of ways so has my father.” His hard expressions soften somewhat. “I have to go, kitten,” he says.
“No, please,” I say. The bowl falls from my lap to the ground as I crawl closer to him.
“Are you telling me no? Are you the one giving orders now?” My shoulders hunch in as I lower myself to the ground. Tears slip down my cheeks. Some for me, but most are for him. I want to hold him and soothe the broken part of him I know exists. But I also need to be touched. I can’t stay here like this.
“Please, Anthony. I want to earn your touch.” I say the words with the desperation I feel.
His eyes widen with surprise and the darkness that’s plagued him since last night seems to lift slightly.
“What are you thinking, kitten?” he asks.
“Whatever you want. I’m yours.” I’ve never said truer words.
“Lie on your back and spread your legs for me.” He gives his command and I obey. I refuse to think of this as anything but meeting my own needs. I need to feel something other than this emptiness.
“Good kitten,” he says and rises from his chair. “I’ll come back tonight once your punishment is over.”
With that, he leaves me.
Alone and pathetically bared to a man who won’t touch me, I curl up on my side and cry. I don’t know how long, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not long enough to fill the emptiness inside of me.
Catherine
It’s been over a week. He’s barely touched me or said anything to me. It’s as though my punishment still hangs over my head. All I have is this room and my laptop. My old life. I’m surprised he gave it back to me.
I feel empty though. It’s like I’ve hurt him. It’s like he doesn’t want me. I don’t understand it. He doesn’t trust me.
A few nights ago he came for me. Only one night has he touched me like he did before. He said I was being good and I deserved a reward. He laid me across his lap and instead of making my ass red with his hand, he pumped his fingers in and out of my needy pussy. He knows that I’ve been craving his touch, but I haven't begged him to fuck me yet. I just haven’t been able to get the words out.
“I want my mouth on you.” I remember him saying that as I came on his hand. I can’t deny that I wanted it, too.
He throws me on my back and I part my legs for him. His shoulders dive between my legs, but he bites my thigh. I scream out as his fingers stroke my G-spot. It feels so good. My body heats with need. I wait for his lips to touch my clit. But they don’t. He sucks my inner thigh, so tantalizingly close but not quite there, and I wish that touch was where I need it most.
I beg him, “Please, Anthony. Please!” He pulls away from me and fingers me until I cum again from the ruthless pace of his touch.
I’m breathless and limp. I lie there until my body’s no longer useless.
I press my fingers against my hot cheeks. Everywhere still feels hot, but my cheeks and chest are burning. Each time he touches me, it’s more and more intense. I’ve never been so...sated in my life. It’s more than foreplay. It’s like he’s taking me higher than I could have taken myself. And what’s better is that he wants to push me there.
It’s a game to him though. I can’t forget. It’s not like he’s doing a good deed. He wants me to break for him. He wants me to beg. And I did. The memory reheats my body. He said he wanted to put his mouth on me, and I begged him to, but he didn’t.
“I said yes.” The words tumble from my mouth without a filter.
He looks up at me with a neutral expression. “I heard you.”
His admission makes me feel self-conscious. Why have me beg for him if he wasn’t going to do it? I don’t understand why, but it hurts. I pull the duvet up and around my body and scoot up into a seated position. I can see him putting his shirt back on, but I don’t really watch him. I just want him to leave.
“You hesitated.” Anthony sits on the bed next to me, making it dip. I look up at him through my lashes but I keep my mouth shut. An apology is trying to climb out, but I won’t. I’m not going to apologize for not begging quicker. I fight to keep my face from showing my anger. He cups my chin and leans down to kiss me and I lean into him. I can’t help that I want his affection. I won’t deny that it fills a deep need I’m only now realizing how much I craved. His lips break from mine and I miss them instantly. I know he’s leaving, and I’ll be alone until tomorrow.
He gives me a soft smile and rubs his nose against mine. It makes me close my eyes. When I open them he’s already across the room. Before he leaves he says, “Next time you’ll answer more quickly, kitten.”
The words come out before I'm even aware I'm saying them. “Yes, Anthony.”
That was three days ago. And he hasn’t touched me or hinted at anything else since. Most of the time I think he regrets this. I think he really doesn’t want me anymore. I’m not the pet he wanted. But then I think maybe I’m just missing something. Maybe he’s waiting for me. If that’s the case, I’m ready to beg. I hate this empty feeling that I’m not wanted or that I’m not good enough.
I look at the clock and it’s almost three. He’s come in everyday to check on me around now. My fingers tap on the keys, but I’m not typing anything. I’m just waiting for him. My work’s done anyway. It’ll pile up quickly, but it can wait.
Finally, I hear the sounds I’m used to. He’s coming. I set the laptop to the side and climb to the foot of the bed. I kneel there for him and wait.
I hear the door open and I watch as he walks into my room. He gives me a small smile and it fills my chest with warmth.
“Kitten,” he greets me as he walks toward me.
“Anthony,” I say his name with a breath of reverence. He cups my chin and I lean into his embrace.
“How are you today?” he asks.
“Well.” I look up at him through my lashes and almost don’t say the words, but I need to. I need to let him know that I do want this. I’m sick without his presence. “I missed you.”
His eyes light with a flash of something I don’t recognize. “I missed you as well.”
I just need him to touch me and tell me that I’ve been good. I’ve done everything he’s told me to. I don’t understand why he’s treating me so differently now. I’m doing everything I can to prove I won’t betray his trust again.
“Will you stay with me?” I ask him.
“I have to work tonight, kitten.” I love the use of my pet name. “I only came in to check on you.”
“Please, don’t leave me here.” I grip onto him and he gives me a look of reproach, but I don’t let go.
“This is your room.” He looks around the gorgeous suite. “I made it just for you.”
I don’t want this room if it comes with this feeling of nothingness. I need more. I say the words that have been eating me alive.
“I want to prove to you that I’m yours.” I feel so needy, so pathetic. I just don’t want him to turn me down and throw me away. I don’t give a fuck about anything other than being his. I need his touch. I need the taste of the fantasy he gave me before I betrayed him. I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I want to try. I may be forced to be here, but I want to give in to the temptation. I’m scared to do it, but I have nothing to lose. I can't d
eny that a growing part of me finds all of this incredibly sexy.
He says nothing and a feeling of complete despair washes over me. “Please.” I cling to him, needing something. I can’t keep going like this. I'm trying so hard to be his, but I feel like I mean nothing to him. I’ll beg him; I’m ready.
He strokes my hair and says, “We’ll see when I get back.”
“Can I give you something now, please?” I would do anything to hear him tell me I’m a good girl.
“Please, Anthony. I want to please you,” I say.
A moment passes as he searches my face for something. And then my eyes fall to the button on his jeans. I watch as his deft fingers easily undo them.
“On your knees, kitten.” His voice holds a hint of danger to it as he issues the command. I love it. It reminds me of our first morning together. Well, technically the second. Before I disobeyed him. Before he changed.
I climb off the bed and move to my knees for him.
He strokes himself once in front of me. I lick my lips and wait patiently. If he wants me to suck him off, I will. I want to. I’ll make him want me. I know he will. My pussy clenches and heats with excitement as I watch him stroking himself, his eyes focused on my mouth. This turns him on as much as it does me. The intensity of my desire rises. I have a power over him that he can’t deny and it’s simply intoxicating. I’ll make him need my touch.
“Open, kitten,” He starts to put the head of his dick on my tongue, but then he pulls away. “No teeth this time,” he says with a dark look in his eyes. I nod my head and feel a wash of shame. I’d never do that. Never.
Maybe the old me would have considered it, but the new me...Mentally I shake my head. I had an old life before my mother passed away, and a new life after I went into witness protection, but deep down I'm the same person I've always been. It's just taken my time here with Anthony to really open my eyes to that fact. My training with him has awakened all my hidden and taboo desires. All the things I always thought could never be more than unrealized fantasies. But we can make our fantasies come true together. I just need to submit to him fully.
Bad Boy: Valetti Crime Family (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance) Page 11