Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Hand in hand, we make our way to The Black Swan Boutique, and he pulls me inside. Everything here is super expensive and high-end. I don’t have any money of my own and being over the top extravagant with Grandpa’s money never felt right.
Papa is pulling out dresses, holding them up against me and either nodding or shaking his head. Not one dress, not two, maybe ten. Hats, scarves, jewelry, bags. Jeans, t-shirts and anything I touch, it’s put into the arms of two employees who take it to a counter and start a pile. A woman dressed in all black with a Morticia vibe comes over and smiles when she sees me.
“Hello, I’m Nina. Can I help?”
“You work here?”
“I certainly do,” she says with a bob of her head. “And you are…?”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to his large frame. My insides turn to mush at this open display of affection. “None of your business,” he grunts with a sniff.
“She’s just being nice,” I tell him. “There’s no need to be a grumpy Gus, Papa.”
Nina doesn’t seem to have taken offense. “Oh! Is this your father?”
“Grandfather,” I tell her.
Papa rumbles with a low growl. “Where is the lingerie?”
Nina pins her eyes on me as I shrug. She looks at me with mock horror. “Not the sort of thing you want to discuss with your grandfather, right? I’ll take you and—”
Papa cuts her off. “I’ll take her. You just point.” He stares at her until she backs down and points us toward the left.
As Papa leads, I follow as two men with their wives or girlfriends watch me with heat in their eyes, leaning to whisper to each other as we pass.
I’m a plain cotton Hanes sorta girl, but still. I could be converted because the fancy, frilly things here are just beyond, beyond beautiful. Papa has me picking out things I like, things he likes and imagining parading around showing off and teasing him until he turns me over his knee then puts me down onto mine for a good Papa-style throat fuck has my thighs slick and the needy tug in my core is getting desperate for relief.
I’m flushed and dripping, nipples on high alert as the two men step into the lingerie area, looking me up and down.
The soreness throbs as I imagine all the dirty things I’ve read that I want to do with my Papa, and I wonder if my newfound promiscuity is seeping from my pores, drawing feral looks from any men close enough to catch my frisky pheromones.
“What are you fucking looking at? You want to keep your eyes?” Gennero steps toward the two men, who sneer but wisely shrink back as I lay a hand on Papa’s arm. His jaw is hard, brow bunched with anger as he winds his fingers into the back of my hair and tugs me next to him.
“Papa, it’s okay,” I mumble and then the unthinkable happens.
He follows me into the changing room.
Or, to be more precise, he leads the way. He grabs a chair from nearby, ignores Nina’s polite protests that the changing rooms are for one person at a time, and locks the door behind me.
"Get naked,” he orders, rubbing the front of his pants as he drops the chair next to the wall.
My heart comes up in my throat as I freeze, wondering what everyone in the shop must be thinking.
“You know those two fucks had hard-ons looking at you. You’re a cock-tease, even when you’re not trying.” Before I can reply, Papa’s hands spin my shoulders, facing me toward the mirrored wall, then he crowds me against the slick glass surface, tugging down my leggings with a rough grunt all the way to my knees as I bite back a yelp.
My lusty panting steams up the mirror as my cheek presses to the coolness. Gennero’s hands grip the globes of my ass as he leans down, sweeps my hair over my shoulder, and rasps his teeth along my neck, making me shiver and flatten my hands onto the mirror.
“If I could cut off every dick you make hard besides mine in this lifetime, I would. I don’t like men looking at you. Thinking of you. I’m going to have to keep you locked up, chained to the wall or dress you in a fucking cardboard box with a pillowcase over your head. Otherwise, there will be a trail of body parts wherever we go.”
His words make me shiver. There’s truth in them, as wild as they sound. I believe he would do what he says.
My mother and stepfather never talked much about Gennero. Only to say that he was the man no one dared to cross. And if they did, it was only once.
He’s got a streak of danger in him that should rouse fear in me, but it doesn’t. The opposite. In fact, the idea of him tearing into another man for looking at me makes the wrangle of tension in my core tighten.