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Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅My playground analogy was coming to life, but instead of metaphorical teasing, Vincenzo had just yanked my pigtail—literally. Shock and annoyance clashed within me like a pair of unruly kids on the seesaw. I blinked at him, half-expecting him to taunt me with a smirk. But what greeted me was the same maddeningly composed expression, as if he'd done nothing more than adjust his tie. It was absurd. I should've been furious. Yet, my absurdly racing heart didn't quite get the memo.My face twisted with confusion. Vincenzo's fingers released my pigtail, and I couldn't help but shoot him an incredulous look. "Did you just pull my hair?" I blurted out, incredulous, more surprised than angry.He merely shrugged nonchalantly, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "You seemed like you needed a little shake-up to clear your thoughts."I huffed, feeling a mix of irritation and bewilderment. "If you think that's how you'll win an argument, Vincenzo, you're sorely mistaken
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅“Right now I’m thinking about how it would feel to bury my face between your thighs, Claire... Or the beauty of your big, captivating eyes when they gaze up at me as I fuck your little throat...” In a moment of sheer frustration, I found myself closing my eyes, desperately seeking some release. My hand went downwards, fingers tracing the contours of my body before settling between my legs. I was soaked, and I could feel on my fingers how wet I had become. The desire was overwhelming, so I added two fingers to intensify the sensation. A sharp gasp involuntarily escaped my lips, my back arching in response to the electrifying pleasure coursing through me.My other hand trailed down from my neck to my aching nipples, and I couldn't resist the urge to twist and tug at them. “I fuck your little throat...” his voice was so heavy, so deep, so smokey.I couldn't help but let out a soft moan, my breath hitching as I mouthed, "Oh God," in a hushed tone.Slowly withdrawing
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Claire Parker, sixteen-years-old... A dress was carelessly tossed my way, landing with a crumpled thud on the small, rickety bed. It was a piece of tattered fabric, hardly suitable for anything decent, let alone wearing. "Put that on," my uncle Tony ordered in his gruff, unforgiving tone. "I've got a guy coming over to collect on his debt, and you're going to pay it back."I curled into a tight ball, bringing my knees up to my chin as I hugged them close. With my eyes squeezed shut, I tried to escape into darkness. "I don't feel well... I think I have a fever," I murmured, desperation lacing my voice.His response was harsh and uncaring. "Do I look like I give a damn about your fever? Get ready!" he snapped back, his impatience cutting through the air like a knife.Tears welled up in my closed eyes, and I found my voice again, pleading with him. "Please, Uncle Tony, not today. I really don't want to."There was a brief pause, during which my heart raced with fragil
Vincenzo⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅I watched the live feed from the hidden devices in Claire's dress. Watching her engage with Santino, playing the role she was assigned, stirred something unknown in my chest. My jaw clenched as she laughed at something Santino said, her body leaning in closer to his. The way Santino's eyes lingered on her curves didn't sit well with me. I hated how she seemed to enjoy his attention, even if it was all part of the plan.My eyes remained glued to the screen, torn between wanting to protect her and needing her to succeed in her mission. The thought of protection only came from the fact that I was protective of the women in my life. My world changed forever when my mother passed away when I was just fifteen. In the wake of her absence, Aunt Alessia stepped in and became more of a mother to me than I'd ever known. I fiercely protected Alessia, and the same instinct extended to my cousin, Allegra. She and I shared the same Capone blood, making her like a little sister
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅"I did the whole meal planning thing and now you have a week's supply of cooked food. I have labeled the boxes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, so you won't have any problems," I said as I put the lid over the last Tupperware box. Mrs. Johnson sat at the table, watching me with a smile. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and gratitude as she asked me, "Are you going somewhere?" For a moment, I froze, the weight of tonight's task pressing down on me. But then I quickly brushed it aside, forcing a cheerful laugh as I shook my head. "Of course not," I replied with feigned cheerfulness. "I'm gonna be right here with you for a long, long time!"I knew that I might face the very worst tonight. It could be a gunshot echoing in the night, hands tightening around my throat, a bone-crushing force snapping my neck, or the cold steel of a blade finding its mark. The possibilities were endless, and none of them were pleasant.But despite the frightening thoughts that threatened
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅"Paint me a picture," I continued, my voice a sensual caress, "I'm sprawled across your bed, helpless, bound by silk restraints, trembling for your touch. And the only thing on my bare, quivering flesh – those exquisite earrings. And you, my love, hold the reins of my every move, every inch of my fevered body at your command, at your mercy." His eyes bore into mine with a dangerous ferocity, a raw intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. His grip on my neck grew brutal, squeezing with such force that it threatened to cut off my very breath.But then, a wicked grin crept across his lips, and his hold softened, allowing me to draw in a ragged breath through my quivering nose. His fingers traced a slow, torturous path down my body, his predatory gaze tracking every inch of the journey."Complete control?" he asked, his voice dripping with a dark promise.I hesitated, the gravity of the moment hanging heavily in the air. A hunger, fierce and unrelenting, flickered i
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅I can't take anymore tonight, If I do, I'd lose control just like I did all those years ago. I don't want to go down that road again. So, I mustered up some courage and hid it back under the dresser. I sat there on the floor for a few minutes, before I told myself to stop wallowing in self-pity and do something productive instead. I spent some time painting. It was a lady in a fancy black dress, looking really sexy, obviously, but then I decided to draw her reflection too. It was like her soul was burning while she walked through a freezing forest.Drawing her reflection was like peering into a mirror that revealed the hidden depths of my soul. It was as if I was walking through a forest covered in ice, where everything looked cold and unforgiving, but my spirit burned like a wild flame inside. It was a way of saying, "I'm more than just what you see."The night was still young, still a long way to go before I could find sleep. I pulled out my journal and started
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅My need for him grew with every passing second, aching and relentless. The slow, deliberate roll of his erection against my clit was like a delicious torment, teasing me to the brink of ecstasy but holding back, making me hunger for more.He was teasing me... My hand moved to his belt, deftly unbuckling it, the tension in the air evident, my skin burned. His fingers, still on my back, dipped lower into my sweatpants, and with a swift motion, he lifted me off the counter, wrapping my legs around his waist. The kitchen faded away as he carried me, and he lazily strolled towards my bedroom.I clung to him, my arms tightly wrapped around his neck. His gaze was locked on me throughout the way, lingering on my lips, then delving into my eyes, and back to my lips again. "I really like your hair," he confessed as he gently set me down on the bed. He looked like a modern-day Greek god with his open white shirt, unbuckled pants, and tousled hair. The tousled hair added an