Mafia Daddies Between My Thighs

Chapter 11: Chapter ELEVEN

ANGEL

”I heard you slipped.”

His voice was low, but my skin itched at the sound of it, the hairs on my nape springing awake in attention.

Damien was standing beside my bed now, his towering frame looming above me, those eyes were peeling me apart like prawns.

I felt like he could strip the lie from my flesh without even touching me.

”I’ll leave you both alone,” Jillian’s expression was still smug, like she knew exactly how much I despised him. ”Dammy, take good care of her. She’s my lovely daughter after all, it breaks our hearts to see her hurt,”

So, this was her way of getting back at me? I could still feel the remnant of her mouth on mine, the salty feeling that refused to go away...no matter how many times I swallowed.

The door closed behind her.

Now, it was just me, Damien, and my hand which was still uselessly raised in the air.

”Drop the glass, Angel,” Damien said quietly, his eyes icily sharp. ”We don’t want you hurting anyone... do we?”

He was wrong. I indeed wanted to hurt someone.

I tightened my lips in contemplation, what were the chances of aiming right and smashing this glass against his head? Would he bleed red? Or maybe pitch black. I was curious.

As though gauging my thoughts, Damien added slowly, ”As tempted as you might be, trust me, you don’t want to do that,”

He sat down on the edge of my bed, invading my space, infecting it. I shrank back as far as I could go, my spine pressing into the headboard, the glass left my fingers and tumbled onto the bed.

”Don’t be so dramatic, Angel. I promise... if I ever decide to hurt you, it’s not like you will be able to stop me,” His tone was dark, heavy with conceit.

My earlier panic doused like a flame, anger rising instead. I must say he had a gift for it, making my head hot like I was growing insane.

My lips lengthened into a tight smile that didn’t reach my eyes, ”Yeah, very comforting, I feel so safe now.” I crossed my arms confidently to prove my next point, ”Besides, I’m not scared of you, like I told you, you don’t have the ability to hurt me. Damien,”

Damien didn’t say anything at the blunt use of his name which I mouthed as disrespectfully as I could, but I caught the quirk around his lips. Barely noticeable, but I had been watching him closely, hoping to savour every reaction to miss it. His eyes were bright with something unfathomable, excitement?

What exactly about my statement was pumping him up with excitement? He was even more of a lùnatic than I’d originally thought.

I flipped a strand of my wavy hair over my shoulder. ”You know, Damien, you should actually thank me for not reporting what you did last night. Who knows, Daddy would have cut off those fingers and you wouldn’t be here trying to play doctor.” I entertained myself with the thought of Damien begging for mercy while Daddy tortured him for touching me.

”And what did I do?” His deep voice grounded me back to the present.

”You hurt me!” I scoffed, my face flushing as I recalled the sting of his heavy palm on my bare ass.

”I barely touched you, Angel. As you can see, you can sit just fine. I’m usually much firmer with bratty dolls.”

”So I should thank you? And I’m not a doll!” I sneered, glaring at him.

”At least you don’t deny being a brat who needs to be put in her place.” His eyes dragged slowly over my legs in a way that made my skin crawl. The spot between my legs turned squirmish, a tingle intensifying as he whispered, ”I don’t entertain spoiled princesses, Angel. I only wreck them.”

I felt that hot jolt again between my thighs. His threat was making me wet, and I hated it. I pressed my legs tightly together, but Damien’s eyes followed the movement and lingered right on my lap.

That was the thing about Damien—he could stare until you squirmed, making your whole body react without him even laying a finger on you.

I wanted to tear the feeling off his gaze, to slice the memory of his eyes out of my skin.

But another nasty part of me wanted to part my legs and flash my wet panties just to drive him crazy, to get a victory over him, to make him just another pathetic man drooling over my body.

”You have beautiful legs,” he broke the silence, his voice turning raspy as he studied my feet like he’d never seen them before. ”You not only keep your pussy trimmed, but every part of your body too. I like it.”

He met my gaze, a simmering furnace in his eyes. My breath caught, my pulse spiked, but my lips curled into a sneer, ”My body is not fúcking yours to like, you can stare all you want, but like I said, you won’t fúcking touch me,”

”Language, Angel.”

”Language, Uncle,” I mimicked, tilting my chin up defiantly to taunt him.

Damien’s face twitched into a dark grimace. His fingers trailed my bare ankle. ”It looks pretty bad.” He reached out to pick up the first aid kit Mrs. Martha had left on my bedside stand, then he grabbed my foot again.

”Don’t touch me!” I hissed. An amputation sounded better than allowing Damien to treat me. What girl would let a man touch them when he disrespected them at every turn?

”There’s a limit to your silliness, Angel.” He made a tight fist around my swollen ankle, his large hand fully curving around the joint. I choked from the sudden burst of pain as the painkillers completely failed me.

”Take your hands off!”

His grip tightened like a vise. ”No need to glare at me. If you cry, I may go softer on you. So, will you cry for me, Angel?” he murmured silkily, his thumb pressing right into the swelling.

”You’re sick, let go you bast—!”

CRACK!