My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 11 Consummation Page 4

  I looked over at the door.

  “No one’s going to help you,” he said, “so make a decision: all of you dead or me coming inside of you.”

  “You won’t get away with this, Frano will kill you.”

  “I beg to differ.” He placed a hand on his holstered gun.

  I remained still.

  “Do I have to do a countdown for you?”

  “You can’t do this.”

  “Ten...”

  “I’m the Don’s woman.”

  “Nine.”

  I looked at the door again, knowing it would make no difference whether someone walked through it or not. No one was going to save me this time. It was all up to me.

  “Eight.”

  I screwed up my face, not wanting to do what he’d asked, but instead of saying no, I spun around and headed back down the passage. The heavy thud of his boots followed me, giving me the impression I was walking to my doom. I opened the gym door and entered the room. He slid in behind me, pushing the door shut. He flicked the lock, his eyes already on my chest. “Strip, puttana.”

  I raised my hands to my shoulders, hesitating.

  He pulled out a knife from his pants, making me step backwards. “Unless you want me to shred your dress, strip now.”

  I slipped the dress over my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

  He bit his bottom lip, his eyes lowering down me. “Everything off.”

  I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra, then pushed my panties down.

  “Fuck yeah, now go bend over the bed.”

  Tears broke free from my eyes, the reality of my situation setting in even more.

  He sneered. “Tears won’t work on me, so do as you’re told or I’ll make things very unpleasant for you.”

  Breathing out, I went to the sofa bed and placed my hands on the mattress. I looked over my shoulder, wishing I hadn’t. The soldier was pulling out his cock, the size startling me. It was average length, but abnormally wide. I faced forward again, not wanting to look at it, the tears now flowing freely. When Frano had fucked me in the cell I hadn’t been scared, because no matter what games he played with me, I always wanted him. And when Jagger had been rough, I had wanted that too. But this—I didn’t want any of it.

  The soldier grabbed my hips and pulled me to him, making me jerk forward. He ran the tip of his knife down my back, making me cry louder. I was a fighter, for Christ’s sake! Not this weeping woman. But I was powerless to do anything, the man holding all the power.

  I placed my mouth on my arm, praying it wasn’t going to hurt, his cock not right. It touched my pussy again, the stretch unpleasant as he tried to push inside.

  “Fuck, you’re tight.” He inched in a bit more, making me cry out. “Keep quiet, puttana, unless you want me to shoot your men.”

  I bit into my arm, willing myself to be silent.

  “There’s nothing better than tight pussy,” he groaned.

  A second later, he rammed all the way in, making me scream into my arm, the sound muffled by it.

  He grunted as he fucked me, taking me roughly. “You’re so wet, probably filled with Jagger’s cum.” He pushed me down onto the bed, flattening my body with his. He started thrusting inside of me again, the man not caring he was hurting me. It felt like he was ramming his arm up me, his cock too wide.

  He placed his hands on the mattress above my head, the glint of his knife capturing my attention. I stared at the blade, wanting to stab him with it, but he kept a grip on the handle.

  After what felt like forever, he finally stilled, groaning as he came. He remained on top of me for a while longer, then pulled out and pushed away from me. I turned over, aching below, my pussy stinging and throbbing from what he’d done.

  He looked down at it with a grin. “I made you bleed, puttana.” He zipped up his pants. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to my cock, all the puttane do. They all cry at first, but eventually cry for more. See you here tomorrow, same time.” A second later, he was out the door.

  I pushed up and stiffly pulled on my underwear, wincing at the touch of lace on my aching pussy. I slipped on my dress next, then headed out of the room in a daze, walking down the passage and into the dining room. The soldier was back at his post, grinning at me. I ran past him, now desperate to get to my room. Several seconds later, I was in my shower, trying to scrub his lingering touch off me. My mind went to Andriena and Jagger, wondering whether they had felt like this after they’d been raped. I truly didn’t understand what they’d been through before today; of how utterly helpless it had felt to be taken. The soldier hadn’t just hurt me physically, he’d hurt my mind—much, much more. The disgusting man had taken something from me that I thought I’d lost a long time ago: my innocence.

  I turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, knowing I couldn’t let him rape me again. Without a doubt, he had to be killed. My mind went to Jagger and what he would do if I told him. Even though I knew Jagger didn’t like me, I also knew he would attempt to kill the soldier. But I didn’t want him to, because he would probably end up dead instead.

  I threw the bloodstained towel on the floor and went to my cabinet, pulling on pants and a blouse. I then grabbed the knife from the bedside cabinet and slipped it into a pocket. I knew Frano would succeed in killing the soldier, but I didn’t want to risk him either. Even after all the grief Frano had caused me, I couldn’t handle it if he died.

  My mind went to Rita, the woman an incredible fighter. She definitely had the skills to kill the guard, although she would more likely laugh at my dilemma than help me.

  I breathed out, knowing it was up to me to kill my rapist; I just didn’t know how to get away with it, because there would definitely be consequences.

  My thoughts returned to Rita.

  If she snuck out to get her brother right after the soldier was killed, Frano would think...

  I stood up, knowing exactly what I had to do.

  4

  RITA

  “Lie down,” Frano said.

  I held up my knife and fork. “No, I’m eating,” I said, glancing at his pancakes. “And you should too. You haven’t touched your breakfast.”

  “I will very soon.” Placing his tray on the bedside cabinet, he pushed out of bed and grabbed my tray.

  “Hey! I haven’t finished.”

  He grinned. “I’m sure you’ll forgive me soon.” He walked around the bed and put it on my bedside table, then climbed over me. I smacked his lovely naked ass, getting a growl in response.

  “Lie down,” he ordered, settling in next to me.

  “Why?”

  “Because I want you to lie down.”

  “Why?”

  “Once you do it, you’ll find out.”

  I stared at him for a moment, wondering what he was up to, the mischievous gleam in his eyes making me hesitant. “I will,” I finally said, “as long as you promise not to spank me.”

  His grin widened. “I promise on the Omertà that I will not spank you—for now. I have something else planned. So, hurry up or you’ll ruin my breakfast.”

  I lay down, curious at what he was going to do.

  “Close your eyes,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Stop asking why and do it; or I will break my promise and spank the hell out of you.”

  “Try it and I’ll return the favor when you least expect it.” Smiling, I closed my eyes, amused at his “Ha!” It still surprised me that I could let my guard down for him. He was a mob boss and I was an FBI agent, not two professions conducive to getting along—or falling in love, which we had. We had a connection, something no one was ever going to break again, because if they tried—I would kill them.

  I felt something drip onto my naked breasts, making my eyes shoot open. Frano was dribbling chocolate syrup over my body, pooling some around my pussy.

  He looked up at me. “Close your eyes.”

  “Hell, no! I want to watch this.”

  “Va bene,” he s
aid with a smile, telling me okay. He swapped the chocolate syrup for the whipped cream, spooning some onto my breasts and pussy. Once finished, he put it away, then picked up a strawberry and climbed in between my legs. He leaned over me and ran the strawberry down my body, dipping it into the cream covering my pussy. Watching me, he licked the cream off the strawberry, then bit into it, making me shudder, the man an erotic masterpiece. With a smile, he dipped the half-eaten strawberry into the cream again, finishing it off with a smack of his lips.

  “God, Frano, you look sexy as hell.”

  “And you look good enough to eat.” He leaned over me and sucked one of my breasts into his mouth, making me moan. After several seconds, he let go and gave it a few laps of his tongue, then moved onto the next one. I placed a hand on his head, groaning at what he was doing. The way he was rolling my nipple around in his mouth was excruciatingly good, the man certainly talented.

  He let go again, then ran his tongue down my stomach, licking up the syrup. He stopped at my pussy, his tongue going into overdrive, flicking my clit like it was his own personal lollipop.

  “God, Frano!”

  His tongue dipped between my folds, consuming every last drop of syrup and cream. Once he was finished, he climbed on top of me, straddling my stomach. “Now it’s your turn to eat me.” He scooped some cream onto his hard cock and shuffled forward, positioning it in front of my mouth.

  “No syrup?” I asked, unable to stop from grinning.

  He grabbed the bottle and drizzled some onto the cream, giving me an expectant look once he was done.

  “Sex and chocolate, I couldn’t ask for much more.” I opened wide, definitely wanting what he had to offer. His cock slid into my mouth, the taste of chocolate and cream so fucking good. I swallowed it around his cock, making him groan and kick back his head. I continued to suck on him hungrily, eager for my man’s delicious sounds as well as his tasty cock.

  He started pumping my mouth, pushing his cock to the back of my throat. “Dio mio,” he groaned. “I’m going to come.” He went to pull out, but I grabbed his ass, making him gasp, his cock going off inside my mouth. I swallowed his cum, my man still tasting good.

  After he was done, he flopped onto the bed, breathing heavily by my side.

  I pushed up onto an elbow. “Not going to finish me off?” I asked, smiling down at him.

  Something passed over his eyes, then before I knew what was happening; he shoved me onto my back and kissed me hard.

  He jerked his head away from me. “Cock breath,” he muttered.

  I laughed.

  He moved down my body and started licking my pussy again, then pushed his face into it, his tongue, his teeth, his everything, taking me higher and higher, making me groan, pant, claw at the mattress, clench at the sheets, the pressure below building, moving up my body—

  I yelled out, coming hard against his face. Someone started knocking on the bedroom door, but I ignored it, more concerned with the orgasm.

  The person continued knocking. Frano pulled away from me, snapping at them to go away.

  The knocking stopped. “I need to talk to Rita,” Camila replied back, “it’s important.”

  Muttering curses, he pushed off the bed. “Stay,” he said, covering me with a sheet. “I’ll get rid of the troia.” He headed for the door in all his naked glory, his bare ass making me smile lazily. Even Camila couldn’t ruin my mood, Frano taking me to cloud nine yet again.

  He opened the door a fraction and looked around the corner. “What do you want, Camila?”

  “I need to talk to Rita.” She forced her way through the opening, stopping as her eyes fell on his naked body.

  “Get the fuck out of my room!” he yelled.

  Her eyes snapped up to his face. “Mi dispiace, but this is urgent.”

  “What’s so fucking urgent that you come barging into my room while I’m fucking?”

  She swallowed, looking surprisingly rattled. Her eyes moved to me, something in them different. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but—

  My eyes went to her neck, seeing fresh bruising. I pushed out of bed, wrapping a sheet around me. “What happened?”

  “I need you to help calm Honey down, she’s gone hysterical. She keeps asking for you.”

  I frowned. “I’ll deal with Honey after you tell me who did that to your neck.”

  She raised a hand to it. “This is nothing, just sexual foreplay with Jagger.”

  “Then why do you look upset? And don’t say it’s Honey, because you don’t give a fuck about her.”

  Anger flashed across her eyes. “My sister was murdered! How do you expect me to act? Like I’m fucking happy?”

  “Okay, I’m sorry, just calm down.”

  She breathed out, although she looked like she was about to burst into tears.

  “Just give me a minute to put some clothes on,” I said, feeling a strange sense of guilt. Although I hated her, seeing her grieve didn’t give me joy.

  Frano slipped back into bed as I got dressed, muttering that Honey was more trouble than she was worth. Once I had a shirt and jeans on, I gave him a kiss, then headed out of the room with Camila.

  Camila pushed passed me, entering her own room instead of Honey’s. I stopped for a moment, wondering what she was up to, then kicked into gear, curiosity getting the better of me. I stepped inside her room, closing the door behind me. Camila was sitting on her bed, with her head hanging down.

  “Why do you really want to speak to me?” I asked, knowing it had nothing to do with Honey.

  She looked up. “My uncle Christo phoned me this morning. He has your brother.”

  I went stiff. “What?”

  “I’m sorry.” She wiped her eyes, genuinely looking upset, making me terrified that Christo had killed Lucan.

  “What has he done to him?” I said, barely able to form the words.

  “Nothing yet, but he will if you don’t give yourself up.”

  “How do I do that? We’re under house arrest.”

  “There’s a passageway out of here, which Jagger said you know about.”

  “Where do I meet your uncle?” I asked, surprised she hadn’t escaped herself. But then again, she did want Frano and Jagger. Maybe she was doing this to get rid of me.

  “Marco’s Mall,” she answered. “My uncle said he threatened you in the restroom when you were younger.”

  The memory prickled at the back of my mind. “I don’t remember how to get there.”

  “It’s a twenty minute drive from here.” She continued talking, giving me the directions.

  “If I go to him, he has to return my brother to the mental hospital without harm.”

  “He said he would.”

  “What guarantee do I have he’ll stick to his word? And how do I even know this isn’t all bullshit? I need proof he has my brother.”

  She removed a phone from her pocket and dialed a number. “Christo,” she said, speaking into it. “Your schiava wants to talk to you.”

  I clenched my hands at the word for slave.

  She held the phone out for me to take. I walked over to her and took it, my heart now pounding a mile a minute. Even after all these years, the thought of talking to Christo terrified me, the memory of the time in the restroom coming back more.

  “Are you there, schiava?” a rough voice came through the line.

  “My name’s Rita.”

  “Not to me, that’s if you are indeed the girl I once knew, but Camila assures me you are. Though, I need proof, so tell me what color hair your brother has?”

  “Auburn.”

  “And what color hair did I have when you knew me?”

  “Grey.”

  “One more thing. When did I first call you schiava?”

  “After you murdered my bodyguards and yanked me off my bike, then twirled me around like a ragdoll, you fucking bastard.”

  He laughed. “It is you! Oh, I love reunions, though I need to punish my brother for not disposing of your body proper
ly. Or maybe I should thank him, because you truly were a wonderful fuck.”

  I gripped onto the phone. “I need proof that you have my brother.”

  “I think my twin’s a bit busy with him right now.”

  I yelled into the phone, “If he touches Lucan—”

  Christo cut me off. “I’m just teasing. My brother’s too busy fucking Jagger’s brother to care about anyone else. So, I’ll go get your brother for you, he’s watching some cartoon. He can sit there for hours without moving. He really isn’t all there, is he?” The sound of walking came through the phone. “Lucan,” he said. “Your sister wants to talk to you.”

  Silence followed.

  “Lucan, did you hear me?” Christo asked, sounding like he was talking to a child.

  “My sister is with the angels,” a soft voice replied.

  “No, she’s with the D’Angelos.”

  “As I said: the angels.”

  Christo laughed. “Did you just make a joke?”

  “No.”

  “You really are strange. Regardless, say hello to your sister.”

  Lucan’s voice came over the line. “Sophia?”

  I breathed out. “Yes.”

  “You don’t sound like Sophia. You sound Americana.”

  “It’s still me.”

  “Why are you talking to me, then? I called out to you so many times, but you never answered. Have the angels given you back?”

  “I never died.”

  “No, no, you went to the angels, I saw the priest send you to them. He held you under the water. He told me he was baptizing you, but I knew he was lying. I tried to stop him, but his twin held me back.” Lucan started crying. “He’s looking at me now. I don’t like him, Sophia, he scares me.” Her brother yelled out.

  A second later, Christo shouted, “Stai zitto!” telling Lucan to shut up. “Go watch your fucking cartoons, you nut job.”

  “I want my sister!” Lucan cried.