Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“Look at me, little hacker.”
She turns her head, those beautiful blue eyes more open and aware than before, but still lacking her usual fire.
“It’s time to give me your tears. You owe me them,” I tell her, which may or may not be true, but I know she likes it when I get bossy. I slap her ass with the wooden spatula and she flinches, but then sort of relaxes into bliss.
Harder, then.
I smack the same place with more force and she sucks in her breath on a gasp.
“Ow.” First time I’ve gotten an ow. “Thank you, sir.”
I smack her just as hard on the other side. “I don’t want your thanks. I want your tears. Cry for me, Caitlin.” I proceed to paddle her ass, alternating right and left, watching closely as she tenses and holds her breath. Then starts to whimper and jerk.
Still, it's taking too long. I don't want to keep hurting her. She doesn't deserve it, not that this has anything to do with deserve.
"Cry for me, Caitlin. You better cry now or I'll take you back to that jail where I found you today." It's a cruel thing to say but it works. Caitlin breaks.
One sob erupts, then another. I work quickly to untie her and settle beside her, drawing her into my arms. She burrows into me, crying against my chest until she's wrung out. I stroke her hair, kissing the top of her head.
Hoping to God this is what she needed, and I didn’t just cause more harm.
Caitlin
Paolo Tacone just saved me from hell.
The man just got me out of jail, then gave me exactly what I needed to shake off the trauma. I rest my head on his chest, blinking at nothing.
All the terror and shame emptied out with my tears. I’m in a state of nothingness now. Drained, but okay. Paolo’s on his back and I’m tucked against him, my head resting on his shoulder.
Paolo nudges my face up to peer at me. “You still seem pretty checked out, doll. Did something happen in jail?”
I sense the violence ripple through him, like he’s going to slit some throats if he finds out I got jail-raped or something.
“No,” I assure him. “I was just scared.”
“Understandable.”
I lean up on my arm to look at him fully. “Why did you come and get me?” I’m not stupid enough to think I won’t owe him big time for this. Favors don’t come for free, especially not from mafia men. But I still want to know why he even bothered. I didn’t ask for help. He just showed up with it.
Maybe he wants me to start hacking for him on the regular. Some new mafia scheme.
His brow wrinkles. “Girl like you doesn’t belong in jail.”
I cock my head. “Girl like me?”
“You’re like a wildfire—hot. Bright. A fast burn. Nobody should dim your light, doll. I never should have let that happen.”
Butterflies take flight in my tummy. He does care. He definitely cares.
“I had a plan going in, you know? I was going to scare you into restoring the money and then let you go. But then I met you. And you’re you. And I shoulda changed the plan.” He shakes his head, regret etched in every line of his face. “I don’t know why I didn’t.” He brushes the backs of his fingers across my collarbone. It’s not a sexual touch, but it’s intimate. Sensual. “You know I didn’t mean what I just said about bringing you back, right?”
“Of course,” I answer. And I do. I know he just said the thing that would get me to cry, and that’s why I’m floating on gratitude over here. Because there are very few people in this universe who would go there.
But Paolo’s an out-of-the-box kind of guy.
I guess you have to be to be a hitman and a sadist to get me.
I don’t know why I think that’s such a problem.
I straddle his hips, no longer feeling vacant or devoid of emotion. I feel like me again. All parts of me—the complete me. The crazy me. The smart me. The nymphomaniac. The scared me. And still very much grateful me.
I rub my breasts over his chest, purring. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
His cock bobs behind me, nudging between my cheeks. He’s ready to go again. I rise up and impale myself on his cock slowly, watching his jaw go slack, feeling his length get harder and thicker.
I rock my hips, seating him deeper, and lean forward on my hands, rubbing my boobs over his hairy bear-chest. “So what is your plan for me now, big man?”
He grips my hips and starts conducting, pulling me over him to ride his cock. Controlling the show.
“This was pretty much my plan.” His voice is gravelly. I like the way his breath stutters out on the exhale.