Page 21 of Forbidden Surrogate

Even a crude beast like him can’t hide his feelings after cumming that hard. He grins at me and then taps the top of my head. I try not to feel humiliation as he pats me like a good dog.

“That was incredible,” he says. “Stand up so I can kiss you.”

The humiliation shifts into fear that this blowjob will turn into another dangerous opportunity for him to knock me up, but my knees ache so I stand obediently despite my concerns. Luigi sets down the gun before he grabs my cheeks, leaning forward to kiss me and shove his tongue into my mouth. He doesn’t care that my mouth just had spurts of his cum in it, he kisses me appreciatively and then pulls away with a deep, satisfied sigh.

“Well. I’ll bring you that lunch and later, you will see Angela.”

I don’t know how I’ll react to seeing the woman who drugged me again. Luigi’s lunch is a cheesesteak, which is a pretty good sandwich-choice-guess for a woman from Buffalo. We have better cheesesteaks than Philly, I don’t care what anyone else says. He lets me eat alone and removes all the guns from my bedroom while I eat. I don’t know where he puts them but… out of sight. The man had a damn arsenal hidden in this room. If I had just lifted one of those floorboards, we would have been in a different situation entirely.

Luigi leaves to get Angela, my future companion in captivity, and I spend his entire absence wondering what the fuck I’m going to say to her. This time, when Luigi returns, he unlocks my bedroom door and gives me permission to leave. I don’t know the layout of the lake house, so following Luigi to the living room gives me an opportunity to take in the bachelor pad and all its masculine glory.

Truth be told, it’s masculine, but not gaudy. Everything is minimalist and tasteful to the point where I can’t imagine the beast who might have put a baby in me choosing any of this stuff. Maybe it’s because he’s Italian that he has some taste…

When I lock eyes with Angela in the kitchen, my planned script disappears and I have no clue at all what to say. I just stare at her. Angela glances at Luigi then hops off her barstool and rushes over to me, wrapping me in a large, genuine hug.

The same shit I fell for the first time. I don’t hug her back.

“I’m so sorry,” Angela says, squeezing me this time. “I know it was stupid and criminal and I shouldn’t have done it to you because we really were getting along but… it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Angela pulls away from me, her eyes wandering all over my face in an effort to gauge my emotional reaction. Her apology doesn’t feel like it suffices for having to submit to her brother’s sexual cravings, but… I agree with her that we were really getting along. From the parts of the night I remember loosely, Angela’s family hasn’t always treated her well. Especially not Luigi. She has her own trauma and unlike Luigi, she doesn’t seem to have as much power in this situation as I originally thought.

She’s basically his captive too. Who knows what she was thinking. Or what I would do in her situation. I wouldn’t consider Angela forgiven, but I soften a bit.

“Listen… we have a few days here together. We’ll try to work it out so we don’t kill each other.”

“Angela will not lay a finger on you,” Luigi interjects sternly. “I’m heading back to the city and leaving you both under surveillance. Watch something on HBO.”

“What are you going to tell dad?” Angela asks him. The question provokes Luigi’s immediate ire.

“Nothing. Just like you will tell him nothing because we both know he would never approve of her having my child.”

There’s something sinister in the undertones of his statement and Angela’s body tenses in response.

“Italians need to remember that when we came here, they looked down on us too.”

“I don’t care about her color,” Luigi says coldly. “I just want to make sure she’s pregnant before I waste my time. If she’s not, I’ll set her free with a few hundred thousand for her trouble and find somebody blonde.”

He storms off after that, and I feel sick to my stomach from the fact that I had this man’s dick in my mouth. And inside me. He could very well be the father of my future child, yet he talks about me with disgust and there’s something sinister and cruel about his attitude towards my race. It feels… icky.

And while I would love one million dollars, it might be best for the world if my encounter with Luigi Taviani doesn’t end with me getting pregnant.

Angela walks over to the fridge once her brother leaves the room, utterly unbothered by his anger.

“So you can’t drink wine?” she asks. “What about pomegranate juice?”

“I’ll have the juice. And I’ll get it myself.”

Even if I could drink, this woman is tripping if she thinks I’m letting her prepare me another drink. Angela pauses for a second then nods in understanding.

“Fine,” she says. “Get it yourself. But it really was a one-time thing.”

Chapter Thirteen

Luigi

Ileave the house outraged. Angela gets under my skin so easily and watching her ally with Delphine in such a short space of time only pisses me off. Women. There’s nothing more frustrating than dealing with a woman, which is exactly why I’ve gone into my thirties peacefully without forming any attachments. I don’tneedany attachments. But now, I have this contract and something new and disturbing on the horizon.

I want her pregnant.

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