His: Tony: The Sabatini Family by Fiona Murphy (mystery books to read .TXT) 📗

He moves so fast my mind is still trying to understand why I’m on the island when a huge hand comes down on my ass. Oh god, I fight not to scream from the pain. Before I can suck in air he’s moved to the other cheek. Back and forth, between each quivering ass cheek he brings down his hand. It’s the tenth extremely painful smack to each my right cheek that breaks me. My ass is on fire as I beg him to stop. I can’t take anymore. Two more smacks to each cheek and finally, his hand lays where it lands.

Lungs shuddering with effort, I gasp as his fingers find what I prayed wasn’t happening to me. How wet I am from the spanking. So wet my thighs are slick with need for him. His hand moves and slaps my swollen lower lips, tearing a scream from me. Two, three, four, god please stop. Five and my legs give out from under me, and I almost fall.

Tony’s hand in my hair twists painfully. I can’t keep fresh tears from my eyes at his punishing grip. Through the tears the expression on Tony’s face is seriously scary. Using my hair, he pulls me up to him. I’m on my tip toes to reach him.

The cold metal barrel of the gun runs down my cheek, and I can’t keep from flinching. “Doesn’t feel so good, does it, piccolina? Having a gun pointed at you?” he croons low in his throat. “Do not ever pull a gun on me again. Because if you do, I’ll have to hurt you.”

New tears fall as his hand tightens even more.

“You think you’re hurting now? From a spanking that made you wet?” He shakes his head, still that soft and scary crooning. I hate that he’s hurting me, yet I’m wet at the same time. I’m seriously fucked up. “Oh no, this is not even a fraction of what I will do to you. I do not want to hurt you, Christy. Don’t make me do it.”

I believe him. He could have hurt me, killed me, a dozen times already. The spanking, while seriously painful, could have been much worse. “I’m sorry, Tony. Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

The gun disappears. He lowers his head to me and presses a kiss to my trembling lips. “I know you are, baby.” His eyes meet mine. “You will always get one chance with me. Just one. After that, you’re going to wish you never used up the chance. Do you understand me?”

The words are frozen in my throat. All I can do is nod.

“Your pussy is so wet it’s running down your legs. Interesting. My cock is hard, it’s the reaction of a gun being held to my head and not going off. What’s your reason, piccolina? I have to admit the last thing I thought would make you wet was a spanking. We’ll look into it in the future. For now...” Roughly, he forces me to my knees. His cock is out and pressing against my lips so fast I don’t have time to breathe before he’s forcing it into my mouth.

God, there is something seriously fucking wrong with me to be so damn wet right now. While my ass and pussy are burning from his punishment, why am I wet? Why am I sucking him as if he’s the last thing I’ll ever taste, the only thing I want in this world? Then nothing matters as he takes over, fucking my throat roughly, controlling me and this moment.

Seconds after he comes, he zips up and turns away. My duffle bag lands in front of me. “Go fix your hair. What do you want for breakfast?”

“Eggs and toast are fine,” I mumble. Even though the last thing I feel like doing is eating right now. He leaves without looking back.

The minute he’s gone I lock myself in the bathroom and clean up—my face on fire at how wet I am. Done. I do my hair in a daze as what happened in the closet replays. Why the hell did the spanking make me so wet? Tony running the gun along my cheek, the warning of only one chance to cross him. How completely fucked up I must be to get wet when he forced his cock down my throat after that seriously scary moment.

Going downstairs, I glance at the front door but don’t dare try it. Tony is at the kitchen table. A plate of scrambled eggs and toast is waiting across from him.

The woman who had caught us this morning is there. I can see now she’s tall and thin, with long brown hair and black eyes. She’s watching me with interest. “Coffee or espresso?”

It feels like a test. “Coffee, please.”

I failed the test. She frowns and nods before going into the pantry. As I sit, I gasp at the pain I managed to forget. I expect a smile or satisfaction from Tony, he doesn’t even look up from the iPad he’s reading the newspaper on. I don’t know why I thought he would be more old school. I’m almost done with my food when a coffee cup is set down in front of me, along with small containers of sugar and cream. I use both liberally, which also gains me another frown from the woman.

The moment I set the cup down, Tony glances at the coffee. “You drink coffee?”

I nod.

He says something to Carmella in Italian. Her eyes go wide as she looks at me. She nods, though, and doesn’t say a word.

“Time to go. Vito is here.”

His hand is at my back as he guides me toward the large, black Cadillac Escalade. He opens the back door for me and waits until he sees me fastening my seatbelt before he closes the door and goes around to the other side and gets in beside me. I feel the guy in the front seat staring