Skyscrapers Fall |18+|

Part XIII

| DAISY |

My face twists in pain as Vito's tongue slides its way over my thigh, licking up the leftover blood.

"Shh baby,"  He coos, sucking on the sensitive cuts, he has to hold me down to stop me from squirming against his grip and ripping at the restraints.

I watch his dick twitch and harden at the sound of my whimpers, and he takes a second just to look at me, admiring his ability to ruin me.

Each time the blood resurfaces, Vito wipes it away again, that psychotic smile still pinned to his face.

"I love watching you in pain," He whispers, leaning his forehead against mine, "you're so fucking sexy."

It sounds sadistic coming from his lips, but for some reason I don't seem to mind. The pain and fear he's installed in me seem to just ignite my body in ways it's never felt before. It's fucked up that I'm even partly enjoying this.

"Please let me cum," I plea after a moment of silence, opening my eyes to look at him, my body is already shaking from all he's put it through, and my eyes struggle to stay open.

"Beg." Vito gruffs. His piercing gaze holds me in place and I feel my body spasm with overstimulation.

"I'm not begging you for shit," I spit, my voice becoming slightly hoarse. I don't want to put myself through the embarrassment of begging. Not for him, not for anyone. I refuse. That was my first mistake.

Vito grabs my jaw, his hand is still coated in my blood and I feel it smear along my cheek when he slaps me, a stinging pain rippling through my face.

He slapped me.

I close my eyes, a tear spilling from my eye as I do so. I don't want to look in the mirror. I don't want to see what he's done to me.

"Go on," he teases, "beg."

A sob slips out from my mouth and I scrunch my brows together, trying to swallow down the lump that's building in my throat. As much as I don't want to cry in front of him, I'm so turned on, and I need some form of release.

"Please," I whine, finally opening my eyes to look at him, "please let me, I'll do anything, please," I shake my head as I speak, a shallow sob echoing around the room. "I need this." My voice breaks as I say that last part, showing the depth of my desperation. I can only hope it's enough to satisfy him.

This is so humiliating.

Vito chuckles darkly, leaning down to kiss away my salty tears, his hand edging closer to my slit.

"Mmm," he hums, pulling my bottom lip in between his teeth and biting, "I like that." He says, his finger rubbing circles around my swollen slit, "moan my name as you cum, gattina."

When he bit my lip, he must've drawn blood, because I can taste it trickling into my mouth. He speeds up his actions, applying more and more pressure to my clit as he leans in to lick the blood from my lips.

I take that as a sign he's letting me cum, and a joyful cry jumps from my throat.

Finally.

Slamming two fingers into me, Vito pumps them in and out while his thumb strokes the bundle of nerves. I throw my head back, pressure building up in my stomach as my orgasm approaches.

"That's right, gattina," Vito coaxes, "just like that, come for me."

With that I feel myself unfold, my body shaking and tightening around his fingers as I finally reach my release.

I moan his name, panting hard when I feel my body collapse, his fingers easily sliding out of me and into his mouth.

"Oh my God," I choke, the words catching in my throat like a hiccup, "that was... amazing."

"I haven't even fucked you yet, gattina," Vito laughs, untying my wrists, "I can't wait to have my dick buried in your tight little pussy."

I smack him, playfully, "you've had your chance, Vecellio."

"And I'll have another," he smirks, "again and again, you won't get enough of me."

"You wish."

"Mm," he hums, pulling me tight against his chest, "maybe I do."

Smiling to myself, I grab the end of the duvet, pulling it over us and nuzzling into his chest, I can feel his heart beating against my cheek, reminding me that he's alive. He's real.

It's a simple thought, really, but it's easy to forget with him. He's so scary and so hot that it's hard to believe he's really alive.

And of all people, it's me that he wants.

"Why me?" The question comes out as a breathy-whisper, and until he replies, I'm not even sure he's heard it.

"You're special," he says.

His words only confuse me more, and I glance up at the mirror above us. His eyes are closed and his arms are wrapped around me, holding my tight against his massive body. I take the opportunity to really study his features, my eyes raking over each part of his handsome face.

"Special how?" I ask.

I watch his reflection as he smirks, his eyes still firmly shut.

"How am I special?" I reiterate.

Vito then opens his eyes, looking at mine in the mirror, "you're made for me," he answers.

Furrowing my brows, I turn away from the mirror and look up at his face. He brings his eyes down to look at mine but makes no effort to clear up my confusion.

He really is another level of deranged.

I roll my eyes and turn away. I'm not in the mood for his games right now, and I'm far too tired to make sense of his nonsense. All I need right now is some hard-earned sleep.

Just as I'm dozing off to sleep, Vito places a kiss on my head and murmurs something to me. It's so quiet I can hardly hear it, and for a moment I'm sure if I just dreamt it.

"You were promised to me," he mumbles against my head, "promised."

I'm half-asleep and too far gone for his words to properly sink in. I begin to drift out of consciousness in the arms of my kidnapper, finding myself trusting in him despite having every reason not to.

Why should I trust a man so deluded he thinks I was somehow promised to him.

And promised by who?