To my horror, the pleasurable pressure gathered inside me again. The pain was still there, but so was the pleasure. I writhed in his arms, but now I was fighting myself. I couldn’t let him believe I wanted him.
I couldn’t letmerealize I still fucking wanted him, wanted his pain and abuse. His darkness that festered in my soul until it became one with it.
His thrusts grew harder, deeper, and I screamed at the top of my lungs. The intensity of the pain and the pleasure mixed until the lines between them blurred, until the world was shut out, and there was only me and Tino and this sick, twisted, dark connection and pleasure our bodies craved.
I exploded, the orgasm ripping through my body with unmatched force. He groaned my name against my ear as he grew even thicker and longer inside me. His cock pulsed and jerked deep, and a warm gush filled me as he, too, came.
Inside me. Bare.
A new horror took over me. I’d just had nonconsensual, unprotected sex with my stalker. The brutal Mafia boss who was supposed to be my father-in-law. The killer of my father. My captor.
Tino Bellomo had stolen my virginity, claimed my body and filled me with his thick cum, marking me up for life.
He collected me in his arms, kissing my forehead, holding me close. I cried in his embrace, seeking solace from the very person who had just ripped me to shreds.
Chapter 48
Lina
I didn’t know how I could sleep after what happened, but I did. My whole body was sore, and I had one nightmare after another, but I forced myself to stay in slumber. He might have been masturbating to me in my sleep, but he wouldn’t fuck me then.
When I did wake up, thunder was still booming. It was as though the weather had changed overnight into this awfulness just like my life. I couldn’t tell if it was morning or night. The windows were closed, and the lights were on. I was naked in his bed, my arms more strained than the rest of my body. One rattling tug was enough to tell me I was in cuffs again.
“Buonasera, my sweet Angel. Slept well?”
My head whipped toward his voice. He was sitting naked in a chair in the far corner of the room, an easel in front of him, and a brush in his hand. “What the fuck is this?”
“If you want me to spank you, you can just ask. You don’t have to be a bad girl and make me angry like this.”
“Where’s the fucking fun in that?”
He chuckled, painting. “A year ago you barely cursed. What happened to you?”
“You. You happened to me.”
“You know what? You’re eighteen now. Swear all you want. It’s kinda cute when it comes from you.”
“Fuck you.”
He cocked a brow at me. “Gladly, Angel. Let me finish this painting first.”
I fought back the tears threatening to burst. Was this how I was gonna live from now on? A fucktoy for this psycho, used for his pleasure whenever he wanted?
“You look so sexy cuffed to my bed I had to paint it,” he added.
I blinked. “What?”
He shifted the easel a little so I could see what he was working on. My naked body was sprawled naked in the painting, cuffed in submission. The details sick yet incredibly vivid. So alive. So real, even my wound was there.
I hated how much I loved it.
How much it turned me on.
The helplessness. The forced submission. The feeling of being used. The feeling of losing all control to a vicious monster like Tino.
I tore my eyes away, and he laughed. “So hot, vero?”
Anger rumbled in me. “What are you gonna do with that? Fuck your fist and come all over the canvas?”
