Page 57 of Falling for the Mafia Dom
“I’m going to need you to stop fucking screaming, beautiful,” his voice is calm, as though he didn’t just murder a man in front of me, when his fist crashes into my face.
My body falls to the puddle of coffee on the floor. Angelo standing over me, my eyelids become heavy, my vision blurry, and things slowly turn black.
Coming to as Angelo drops me from his shoulder onto the bed, I’m not quite coherent enough to fight him as he ties each of my hands to the headboard above me.
“I was a good guy for you,” Angelo leans over me.
I know it’s him, but he doesn’t look or sound the same. The soft, tender guy I had previously fallen for is gone. Instead, the man before me has a dark, evil look in his eyes. The compassionate and comforting voice from moments ago has been replaced with a devious, cold one that sends shivers down my spine.
“I worked hard to be a good guy for you,” he repeats, “I was exactly what the sweet, innocent farm girl from Oklahoma wanted. The perfect boyfriend that you could take home to John and Sarah.”
Did we ever talk about my parents?
“Angelo…” His name trembles from my quivering lips.
“The perfect husband to have beautiful blond babies with,” I recoil as his fingers trace along my face, “To grow up and be Miss Sweet Corn like their mom.”
Or the stupid name given to the annual winner of the Harvest Pageant.
We never talked about that.
“But no,” he pushes away from me as though he is disgusted, “You left me for an old fuck that beats you for his pleasure and fucks you like a whore.”
Mypleasure…andhiswhore.
My legs flail and my hips twist on the bed as Angelo claws at the button and zipper of my jeans. His hands roughly grab my panties and jeans. He pulls them down my legs as I scream and fight against him. Standing from the bed, he tosses my clothes to the floor.
“If I knew you wanted to be fucked like a whore,” Angelo pulls his shirt over his head and my eyes are drawn to his chest. Large intricate letters span across his pecs.
Ellie.
My eyes glued to the words on his chest, I don’t realize that he has shed his pants.
“I’ll fuck you like a whore,” he lays on top of me and forces his body between my thighs. The tip of his cock pressed against me, the backside of his hand crashes over my cheek and I cry out in pain.
Tears falling from my eyes, I wait in fear for the moment that I know is coming. For him to push inside me.
My eyes squeezed tightly, tears leak from the corners as I feel him fumbling between my thighs.
“Fuck!” He yells as the back of his hand splits my cheek, “Stupid fucking whore.”
As he climbs from me, I open my eyes to find him picking his clothes from the ground, the cock between his legs hanging completely flaccid.
He storms from Lyla’s room and I sob uncontrollably as my fear momentarily subsides and relief washes over me.
ChapterForty-Three
SALVATORE
The front bell ringing disrupts me, and I am pulled from my office. Opening the door, I am shocked to find Lyla and Tristan standing on the porch.
Together.
Hand in hand.
What the fuck is going on?
“Hey Sal,” Lyla smiles wide at me, “Is Ellie ready?”
