Eight |

                                    

                                          
Eight | 
It was most likely against my better judgement, and definitely influenced by the alcohol and I knew consciously that every cell in my body screamed to run the hell away from this man but I didn't want to. I knew Mia would be proud that I got this far but I wanted to go further. Maybe I could convince myself that I was feeling self destructive due to Mia's death or maybe I could tell myself that I wanted this because I wanted to start living like tomorrow was the last but that wasn't the truth. The honest truth was I was impulsive. I was a kid raised by addicts and their behaviour robbed me of a childhood. They gave me a sturdy dose of bipolar and CPSD that made me irrational and impulsive and without Mia to ground me I was a fucking mess.  
And within the mess I was unable to stop what I wanted.  
I wanted to taste Diavolo.  
He let out a groan, grasping a handful of my hair and wrenched my face up to look at him. I could see it on his face—the want. The sick fuck wanted me too and that only solidified my actions. He held my gaze for another moment before he let go of my hair. There was no words between us; not yet. He watched me as he slid his hands up to the front of his pants and unbuckled them. I could feel saliva collecting in my mouth as he shifted his pants down slightly, allowing his member to spring free. I let out a gasp. Holy shit he was massive! Of course I've had sex before and my share of lovers but this man was a fucking beast.  
"Open your mouth," he ordered.  
I obeyed, peeling my lips open. To my surprise, he didn't place his cock at my lips but instead his gun. My eyes widened and I paused for a moment. He was trying to fuck with me, he wasn't going to shoot me. I wouldn't let him scare me again. So I gave him a bat of my lashes and held his gaze as I licked the barrel of the gun, flicking the tip of my tongue against the opening. He let out a hiss of breath before moving the gun away and I leaned forward. I didn't give him any more time to fuck around. I grasped his cock with both my hands and pushed the head into my mouth. He let out a groan, his gun hanging in his left hand and his right hand wrapping around my hair. It made my scalp ache but I liked that. The sweet pain mixing with my pleasure. I sucked at his tip slowly, teasing him. He pulled harder at my hair and I let out a moan against his cock.  
"Lupa," he growled, his accent thick with desire, "No games." 
"The safe word is cupcakes," I teased.  
He pushed his cock into my mouth slowly and I took it. I let out a whimper, pushing the rest of his cock into my mouth. He tasted delicious, his cock hitting the back of my throat with room left for both my hands. So I worked with pumping my hands up and down from my mouth to his base while bobbing my head. My eyes burned with tears as he thrusted his hips forward. Slamming his cock down my throat as I continued to bob my head, my tongue dancing circles around his length. As I sucked him, my core ached with need. I squeezed my thighs together and rolled my hips as if riding something nice. My nipples perked against the fabric of my dress and I welcomed the sensation. I moaned against him as he pulled my hair harder—it felt good. It felt so good.   
Behind me, the door opened, casting light into the room but I was too full of lust and pleasure to give a flying fuck. I didn't stop my actions, only sucking hard on his cock and doing so once. He let out a sharp exhale before point his gun past me and towards the door.  
"Vattene!" He snarled.  
The door closed, and as it did, Diavolo let out an airy moan, slamming his hips forward. I gagged on his cock, my nose dripping with snot, saliva dripping from my lips. I sucked my cheeks in, moving my hands away. That was the final thing he needed. He let out a growl, his cock swelling in my mouth as he came.  
"Take it," he growled, "Swallow."  
I did, swallowing every drop of his cum. Allowing it to fill my stomach and warm me insides more than the alcohol could ever. I then pulled away, his cock slipping from my mouth with a 'pop' and held his satisfied gaze as I slowly ran my tongue across my lips, as I did, his firm grasp left my hair and moved around to the front of my face.  
"Sei una cattiva ragazza," he purred, wiping his thumb against my bottom lip.  
I frowned slightly, the alcohol making it hard to focus, "I don't understand." 
"Stand," he hummed, pulling up his pants, buckling them then moving to pour himself another quarter glass of alcohol, "Tell me about this spider."  
I tried to stand, but my legs suddenly didn't remember how to work. He paused to glance at me with a frown. A giggle bubbled from my lips as he placed his glass down and hauled me up by my wrists. My knees felt like fidget toys that wobbled back and forth.  
"The spider Topolina," he hummed.  
I tilted my head to the ceiling, noticing through the dark that it was an ugly stipple.  
"I don't give a fuck about my ceiling." 
My head snapped as I stared at him with astonishment.  
"You're drunk," he stated.  
These lovely eyes in my head rolled dramatically, "No shit."  
He cursed some more in Italian before lifting my from my hips and slinging me over his shoulder. I let out a noise of surprise, wiggling to free myself. He slapped my ass hard and I yelped. That shit was going to leave a fucking mark.  
"Stop," he snapped, "I'm taking you to my place." 
"Why? So you can not make me cum again?" I snapped.  
He slapped my ass again, "Naughty girls don't get to cum."  
I pouted, resting my upside down face against his back and closing my eyes. It was crazy but I felt safe with him. Of course, that could just be my trauma, maybe that's why I was drawn to toxic men. I giggled to myself, letting my mind to be absorbed by the gentle swaying.