Page 57 of Brutal Obsession
When Valentina remains quiet, I bury my cock inside her, still my hips, then work her clit like I haven’t overworked it in the past hour.
Valentina is a feisty little minx but a shit multitasker. Her brain won’t know which puzzle to solve first. I give it ten seconds before it fritzes and she coughs up the goods.
Ten.
Acting as if her clit is the detonator to the bomb low in her gut, which appears seconds from exploding, I thumb it and press down.
Nine.
I swivel the nervy bud while maintaining eye contact.
Eight.
With the same hand that’s toying her clit, I curl my fingers around the base of my cock.
Seven.
I use the evidence of her multiple orgasms to lubricate my fingertips.
Six.
With our eyes aligned, I flutter my index and middle fingers across her puckered rear.
Five.
I push the tip of my index finger into her ass. Not far. Just to the second joint.
Four… I think?
The gasp Valentina released when my finger breached her ass scattered my thoughts. Her response confirms no one has ever touched her here. Her ass is virginal, and my cock flexes like it’s hit the jackpot.
Fortunately, that’s all it takes for Valentina’s resolve to crumble. As her shoulders meet and her muscles shake, the words I’m seeking slip from her kiss-swollen lips.
“I’m yours.”
22
VALENTINA
Walking into my mother’s new hospital room, I’m honestly stunned. It’s bigger than our entire house in the US, with large windows that overlook the coast and spill sunlight across the floor. The bed isn’t one of those narrow, squishy single beds Mom is used to. It’s a proper double, with crisp sheets and space to stretch out.
Mom looks as surprised as I feel. “Tesoro, can you believe it?” She glides her hand across the breathtaking view not even a bedridden patient could miss. It shows the coastline in all its glory and reminds me of the luxuriousness of Giovanni’s penthouse. “I keep asking the nurse if they’ve made a mistake. This can’t be my room.”
She strays her eyes to me before gesturing for me to come closer. She’s missed my presence as much as I have hers the past twenty-four hours. I nuzzle in when she pulls me into her chest and hugs me tightly. I’ve missed her smell and her smile, and thanks to Giovanni’s generosity, I’m no longer dreading that their absence will become permanent before I’m ready.
This treatment doesn’t guarantee a cure, but it will give her the best chance of going into remission.
When the strength of my mother’s caress tenses my weary bones, my heart aches with an equal amount of gratitude and guilt. I wish I could refuse Giovanni’s generosity. Pride is a hard thing to get over. It constantly whispers that it’s imperative to stand on your own two feet and that accepting help is a sign of weakness. But the reality is too stark to ignore. We can’t afford the treatment my mother desperately needs. My wages are too low to compete with the endless stream of bills constantly landing in my inbox, much less thousands in medical expenses.
I probably wouldn’t be so opposed to help if I weren’t worried Giovanni will think I’m using our fire-sparking connection to take advantage of him. That’s not what I’m doing. It isn’t his job to solve my problems.
I tried to talk him into a payment plan when we discussed my mother’s medical bills while showering together in my aunt’s poky bathroom. Giovanni wouldn’t hear a word of it. He said gifts weren’t given with invoices.
I still plan to pay him back. It’ll probably take seven centuries, but I won’t stop working until I’ve repaid every cent he spent for this treatment.
After feigning innocence about the new scent coating every inch of my skin, my mother inches back. Her eyes glisten with happiness and appear pain-free. “Are you sure our insurance covers this,tesoro? I didn’t think I could use our US health insurance here.”
Giovanni jumps into the conversation before a single excuse formulates in my lust-hazed head. “Your dual citizenship altered the rules. The Sicilian government is always happy to get money out of a foreign company.”
