His face is serious, his lips slashed into a hard line as he draws closer.
I scoot backwards but he reaches down, grabbing me by my neck once again. He squeezes but he doesn’t cut off my airway. “No, you want to talk shit and act tough, you better be able to back it up, little girl. I’m not my brother or Enzo, I’m not Vito. I’m going to fuck the life right out of you and you won’t like it, you won’t be crawling back for me or looking at me with those stupid hearts in your eyes. You’ll be looking for the closest open grave to drop dead in.”
His words are cold and eerie, the buzzed Giovanni from before completely gone. He’s sober and knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
His hand leaves my throat and he grabs my shoulder, pushing until I land on my front. I try to catch myself with my hands but when he roughly kicks my right hand out from under me, I go crashing. My chin cracks against the floor, my head jerking back. My teeth bite down on my tongue so hard that I taste blood.
I can’t even try to regain my wits or absorb the pain before Giovanni is sitting on my back, his body weighing me down. I wiggle under him but it only brings my attention to the fact that he’s hard as a rock against my ass.
He grabs my arm, pulling it behind me. I try to pull it back but he’s too strong and my head is still spinning from the collision. He pulls my other arm and then he’s holding both of my wrists together with what feels like one hand. Soft fabric touches my skin briefly before there’s a sudden tight pressure around my wrist.
The pressure increases.
I try to pull my hands apart but I’m too slow, they’re already bound together.
Giovanni’s weight briefly lips off of me, long enough for him to flip me over onto my back. The strain on my arms is hard and my hands beneath my butt is uncomfortable. For a second I worry that my shoulder is going to pop out of place again.
Giovanni has no such concerns.
He moves forward up my body, putting all his weight on my shoulders. I watch as he lowers his zipper. He’s wearing boxers but he doesn’t hesitate to pull his hard cock out. His narrowed eyes meet mine as he strokes himself. “Open your mouth.”
I press my lips together tightly.
Even though a muscle jumps in his jaw, I don’t miss the way his eyes light up.
He wants me to fight him, wants me to make this hard.
His free hand moves over my face, smashing over my nose until I can’t breathe. I hold out for as long as I can, already knowing where his mind is going.
But I can only hold my breath for so long before my lips fly open on instinct.
He doesn’t let me gasp in a single breath before he’s forcing his length into my mouth. I turn my head, trying to dislodge him but his right hand comes up, gripping my chin, taking away my ability to move.
He slams forward, his dick sliding along my tongue before hitting the back of my throat. I gag but he continues to thrust into my throat. I breathe harshly through my nose but it’s not enough as his dick continues to take my breath away.
He bottoms out, his balls pressing against my face as his dick makes a home in the back of my throat. His hand leaves my chin, moving to my nose and squeezing it closed.
I can’t breathe, no matter how hard I try to inhale through my mouth and he doesn’t budge.
Oh god, I’m going to die with his dick stuffed down my throat.
Spots form in my vision and I can’t even feel his dick in my throat anymore, my senses shutting down.
I gasp, choking when he suddenly pulls out of my mouth. Spit drips down the side of my cheeks and there’s nothing I can do to try to stop it. Giovanni watches as it slides down my skin, a cruel smile taking over his face.
He sits up on his knees, finally taking his weight off of my shoulders. He grabs me by the waist and then I’m sliding across the floor, wincing as my hair gets tangled beneath me, pulling on my scalp. My head tilts back, trying to ease the pain but it only makes the hardness of the floorboard press against my skull.
Giovanni stops sliding my body across the floor when his hips are even with mine. He rips my dress up my hips, my skin growing cold with the exposure to the air. He trails a hand along my thighs a second before he smacks me.
Hard.
My thighs burn almost as much as my eyes do. But he doesn’t stop with one lick, hitting my thigh three more times. It burns like I’ve been hit with a belt. He switches to the other thigh, hitting me even harder and I can’t hold the tears back now, no matter how hard I try.
He doesn’t stop until I’m sobbing, the burn in my thighs unbearable.
He laughs, low and maniacal.
I shutter, my eyes blurry, but when I look up at him there’s only one way to describe the look on his face.