Page 67 of Veil of Vengeance

“Eyes on me, or I’ll fuck you to within an inch of your life and it won’t be with my cock.” Emiliano taps my thigh, and I snap my eyes back to his. They hold me captive as he continues his torturous rhythm. “Beg me, beg me to let you come.” His command is clear as day, even though his face is buried in between my thighs.

“Please, let me come, I’m begging you.” I tug at his raven strands, and I can feel the smirk that paints his lips as they rest against me.

“No,” he answers, before his teeth sink into the side of my inner thigh. I throw my head back on a half moan, half scream. The pain is quick to dissipate, pleasure taking its place as his tongue soothes the bite before he goes back to lapping at my pussy.

A low hum builds in my lower abdomen, so close, but so far away. Emiliano sinks his tongue inside me, swirling it around before he groans in approval.

“So delicious, so mine. Your taste is the best taste I’ve had the honor to have in my mouth. But you go and fucking ruin this perfection by trying to get away.” His strong hands press against the flesh of my thighs, and I’m sure there will be bruises tomorrow, but the pleasure is too much for me to care. “Tell me you’re mine, tell me that I’m the only man you’ll let have you, own you, mark you, fuck and degrade you as I please. And I’ll let you come.”

My chest heaves as I tug even more at his hair, writhing against him.

“You lied two seconds ago. How do I know you’ll let me come this time?” I pant. His lips are feather light as he kisses my inner thighs again.

“I swear on my honor, Valentina.” This time, he does something that makes me release a strangled noise as he flicks my clit with his tongue more than once.

“I’m yours, I’m yours.”

“Say that you’re my property. Mine to fuck and mine to do as I please.”

“I am Emiliano Folonari’s property. I am yours to fuck and yours to do what you want with,” I breathe out in a rush. That is enough to spur him on because he not only delves into me with his mouth, but he also adds his fingers, two and then three, to be exact.

“Let me tell you this, Val, if you try to run again, I’ll pump you so full of my cum till it leaks out of you for days,” he growls against my center. “Come for me, Val, come for me and let me taste your sweet release.” His words send a hot trail of fire across my skin, and I come with a loud moan, but Emiliano doesn’t stop until I’m completely spent.

He stands and tugs my panties and jeans up to my knees. My face flushes red when I see something glisten on his chin, and I realize it's my arousal. I turn my head to look anywhere but at him, but he places two fingers under my chin and turns my attention back to him.

“I think we’re way past you being shy.” His fingers move back and forth over my cheek, his eyes glazing as if he’s thinking of something else. He shakes his head before he says, “Get some sleep. I need to find out how you got out. And don’t try to do that again.”

* * *

By the timeI wake up, it’s around noon, if the clock on the fireplace is anything to go by. A groan leaves my lips, as trying to move my stiff neck is a mistake. This is what I get for sleeping on the couch. My back hurts like a bitch, and my limbs feel like I haven't moved them in a century. They’re so sore that even when I run my palm over my calves, it barely registers. I can’t stand on my feet without wincing as I try to make my way into the bedroom to get to the bathroom.

My mood only worsens when I finally see the state of my hair. I try to free some of the knots by threading my fingers through them. But it doesn’t help and my fingers get stuck in different sections every time.

I rummage through Emiliano’s bathroom drawers, finding a bunch of miscellaneous things. Toothpicks, floss, shaving cream, nail clippers, some scissors and a couple of razors. Opening the cabinet below the drawer, my nose wrinkles when I spot a red thong. Gross. I shut the cabinet and move to the other side of the two sinks.

When I find a brush in there, I take it without looking further. I’ve traumatized myself enough for the next lifetime. I also don’t feel like examining whatever ugly green monster decided to peek out from the depths of my mind. Biting my lip, I swallow my scream. I don’t know why brushing my hair hurts, even as I start from the bottom of my hair.

After enduring the pain of pulling out what seems like half of my hair, I hop in the shower. When I first took a shower here, I was surprised to see that Emiliano uses a strawberry-scented shampoo and conditioner. I thought someone like him would use something likefresh fall.Whatever the fuck that means. I grab the loofah that I got from one of his cabinets and lather it with the body wash. It smells exactly like him, which causes my skin to tingle and my stomach to clench. I ignore the feeling.

Once I step into the bedroom, I notice it’s been cleaned up and some bags are set in the corner. Mara was probably not able to convince Emiliano to let me go with her if the bags have the clothes she offered to get me, especially after the stunt I pulled yesterday. My suspicion is confirmed when I rummage through the bags to find two sets of jeans and some cute tops, two pajama sets, some underwear, bras, and a cute pale blue dress, all in my size. I settle on some blush-colored panties and a matching bra. Then I grab a pair of black joggers and the matching hoodie before leaving the bedroom. My stomach grumbles, and I decide to grab the tray of food from last night and take it downstairs. ?

My mood takes an ugly turn once I enter the kitchen and spot the woman from yesterday, Ginevra, standing close to Emiliano with one hand resting on his chest. Her finger is making small circles as she speaks in a hushed voice. They don’t seem to notice me, and my throat tightens. I try to swallow to get some self-control back, but it does nothing. This isn’t the way I should be reacting. I breathe in deeply and gently place the tray on the island table, and ignoring them, I turn to face Lydia who’s just come out of the pantry.

“Hi, Val, would you like me to prepare you something?” she asks me as she moves around the kitchen with a soft smile on her face. I can see that Emiliano has pushed Ginevra away from him because she stands scowling at me while he’s leaning on the counter and watching me. I follow Lydia around the kitchen.

“Could you just show me where the bread and jam are?” I ask, and she nods and walks toward the marble counters lining the wall that faces the garden. I go to follow her, when a large hand wraps around my wrist. I turn to see Emiliano still leaning on the counter with an amused look in his eyes, but otherwise his face is a mask of indifference. I narrow my eyes at him before trying to yank my wrist out of his hold. It doesn’t work. He pulls me closer to him and we stand face to face.

“Lydia, could you please toast two pieces of bread with some jam on the side and put it all on a tray to have Ginevra bring it up to my room?” he says while still assessing me. I continue to scowl at him, trying to free my wrist from his grasp. Emiliano slowly stands up without letting my wrist go and drags me along, all the way back up to his room. He only releases me once we’re inside and he’s sat in one of the armchairs. I cross my arms over my chest, glaring at him, standing between his legs. He watches me with a slight smile on his lips, his dimples winking at me.

“What do you want?” I ask. His smile widens, and my heart does a weird flutter.

“You’re jealous.” He leans back, his thumb brushing his clean-shaven jaw lightly.

“I am not. I don’t get jealous, first of all. Second of all, there’s nothing to be jealous of and, besides, why should I be jealous?” I argue. The smug bastard laughs. I must be starving because my stomach feels all fuzzy. “I want to go back to Chicago. When can I-” I'm cut off when he grabs my arm and yanks me to straddle him on the armchair. My legs land on either side of his hips, my chest pressing against his and my hands landing on his shoulders. His hands grasp my hips, squeezing slightly.

“You’re not going anywhere unless I decide so,” he growls, with a look of cold anger. I press his shoulders back to get up, but he snakes his arms around my waist and pulls me flush against him. Leaning forward, he runs his nose down my throat, inhaling deeply.

“You smell of me.”

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