Page 20 of Capo Dei Capi's Daughter

Realizing that I am acutely aware of the physical remains of the emotions she was desperately trying to hide, Venecia attempts to turn away from me. Reaching out, I grab her arm. My grip tight enough to force her to stay and look at me.

To allowmeto look at her.

When our eyes meet, I watch as her face crumbles when she is no longer able to fake her brave facade. Her vulnerability and the pain I have caused her are absolutely crushing.

Tears slowly rolling down her face, she sobs, “Did I do something wrong?”

Palming her cheeks, and using my thumbs to gently wipe away the tears, I shake my head at her, “No. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why?” she struggles to maintain eye contact with me. “Every guy I’ve ever been around has wanted to be the one to claim it.”

“Those are boys, Venecia.”

Smug, arrogant boys that don’t know the difference between fucking their hand and pleasing a woman.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why?” her voice turning angry as she steps away from me, “When I did, you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have,” I hesitate to continue, “I never would have pulled the car over, had I known.”

“My inexperience is that fucking repulsive to you?”

Not in the least.

Before I get the opportunity to respond, she is storming towards the cabin and heading inside. The slamming door my cue that this conversation is over.

For now.

After a few deep breaths to collect my thoughts, I trek back to the Tahoe. Removing the suitcases from the back, I bring all our belongings inside. Dropping our things in the living room, I head into the kitchen. I am pleased to find that the property’s caretaker received my message this morning and stocked the cabinets with a few days of food for us.

Or as he was under the impression, my brother-in-law and some fishing buddies.

Placing Venecia’s bags outside of the bedroom, I grab a few things from mine before heading into the bathroom. After being so close to fucking her, I need to fucking come. Or I at least need to take a cold fucking shower.

Kicking off my shoes and removing my clothes, I realize that I smell like her. My hands have the faint aroma of her vanilla scented shampoo and her cunt.

A tight cunt I was so close to fucking.

Turning on the water, I crank the handle until steam begins fogging over the glass door. My cock is hard and already aching for the release I was denied when I decided to cock-block myself.

I just need to get it out of my system.

Stepping into the shower, I lick my fingers. I need to taste her again, to savor her sweet taste, before the water begins washing her from my skin.

Fucking delectable. So delectable that I regret not burying my face between her thighs and devouring her.

Precum drips from my tip at the thought, and I wipe it into my palm, using it as lubricant to begin fucking my fist.

The eagerness with which her mouth sucked on my fingers.

How her tight little cunt clenched around my finger as she came. Over and over as she continued to come for me.

I’ve fisted my cock for so long that the water has run cold.I am no closer to coming than I was when I stepped into this shower.

I don’t want to be fucking my hand.

My cock still rock hard and ready to fuck, I opt to turn off the water, I dry off before throwing on sweatpants and heading to the couch. After laying a shotgun on the coffee table and tucking a Glock between the couch cushions, I lay down to get a few hours of sleep.

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