Page 78 of When She Unravels
She squeezes her lips together and takes in a shuddery breath through her nose. For a while, she doesn’t say anything, she just shakes her head over and over again. I think she’s holding back tears. My heart trembles for her.
Finally, she whispers, “I convinced her to come with me. I—” Her voice cracks, and she scrambles off the bed. Before I even have a chance to utter another word, she’s already out the door.
The locks click into place. It sounds like a candle being blown out with a frantic breath.
I spend the rest of the day picking at my food and watching the ocean through the window. When the sun is almost over the horizon, the door opens, and it’s that grumpy security guard from earlier. He hands me a tray with my dinner and leaves without saying a word.
When I’m done eating, I decide to take another shower, and that’s when my day perks up. I notice that the showerhead is removable with five different settings, just like the one I had back in Lazaro’s home. If Damiano wanted to torture me by way of horrible boredom, this is a serious omission on his part.
I take the showerhead out of its holder, lean against the tiled wall, and point the spray between my legs. It takes me a little while to find the right angle, but then I manage to do it, and dear Lord, it’sbliss. In a moment, I forget where I am and just focus on the soft pulses of pleasure radiating from my core.
It takes me right back to yesterday, when Damiano brought me to the edge and left me there. Damn that man. Being tied up and completely at his mercy shouldn’t turn me on, but it does. I remember how he thrust his thick fingers inside of me, how his hot lips brushed against the sensitive spot at the back of my neck. The contrast of him fully clothed and me with my shorts around my knees. He could have come around, lifted me by my thighs, and fucked me right there. I know he wanted to. Maybe be stopped when he did because he was about to lose control. I wish he did. I wish he’d finish me off and then fill me with his cum again. Afterwards, he’d leave me there, and I’d spend the rest of the day with his cum slowly dripping down my thighs.
The pressure explodes, and I bite down on my lip to keep the shout from coming out. Oh God. Waves of pleasure cascade over me, all the way from my head, down to my toes.
My legs shake as I step out of the shower, wrap a towel around me, and sit down on the toilet lid. When my breaths finally slow, I drop my forehead into my palms and allow reality to creep in.
I just masturbated to a fantasy of Damiano—the capo who’s keeping me locked up in his house—using me like a doll.
There’s something seriously wrong with me.
With that depressing thought, I climb into bed and flick off the lights. Maybe the shower head isn’t such a good idea after all. Tomorrow, I’ll have to work on finding another way to entertain myself while I wait for Damiano to decide what he’s going to do with me.
He never came to see me today. He may have called my father already, and I wouldn’t be any wiser. How much stock can I really put into his promises?
I toss and turn in bed until a restless sleep finally claims me.
CHAPTER23
VALENTINA
Unexpectedly,Martina delivers me food again the following morning. She slips me the tray, and I manage to utter a thank you before she ducks out of the room.
The next day, she isn’t in such a rush to leave. When I invite her in, she gives me a shy smile and steps through the door.
“I tried something new today,” she tells me.
I take the tray from her hands. It’s another pastry, square and flaky, with raspberries piled into the middle, and covered with a layer of powdered sugar.
My mouth waters. “Your future husband, whoever that is, will be a very lucky man.”
Leaving a crack in the doorway, she perches on the edge of the bed. “I think I might be asexual.”
I nearly choke on my first bite. Does her brother know this?
When she sees my expression, she laughs. “I mean, I’m not sure. I’ve just never met a guy I was attracted to.”
“What about girls?” I ask with my mouth still half full.
She wrinkles her nose. “Nah.”
“My youngest sister wasn’t attracted to anyone for a long time,” I offer. “She’s your age, but she only had her first crush when she turned seventeen.”
“Who was it?”
“Some new boy at her school who organized Free Britney marches in downtown New York.” I can see my statement confuses her. “My sister is a bit obsessed with Britney Spears,” I explain. “She was very active in the Free Britney movement.”
“I’m glad Britney got out,” Martina says. “What her father did to her was horrible. What happened with the boy?”
