Mafia Daddies Between My Thighs

Chapter 84: Chapter EIGHTY FOUR

ANGEL

”You mouthy little bitch—” His face had gone humiliated red.

”Oh, now you’re mad.” I pouted. ”Following a girl into the ladies’ room. . .” I twirled a strand of hair around my finger. ”Do you do this a lot? Corner girls in bathrooms?”

His hand shot out and grabbed my strap. His furious face was not flirting anymore. He wrenched my strap down my shoulder hard enough that the elastic bit my skin.

”Get on your knees,” he snarled. ”Put that smart mouth to use before I put it to use for you.”

I didn’t move. Just looked up at him with a smile that felt evil even to me.

I was counting. One. Two. Three. Timing how long it would take.

”Make me,” I enunciated the words. Was it odd that I could feel his presence already? The way my heart lurched with excitement and my slit had its own pulse. The air itself felt colder. Could this stranger feel Daddy too?

”You little bitch—!” His hand reached forward but never reached their destination.

The bathroom door exploded inward. The hinges screamed, and even the mirrors vibrated.

Daddy.

He filled the doorway.

He didn’t step into the bathroom. Yet. But he consumed it. Every inch of space, every molecule of air.

His eyes took in everything in a single sweep—the hand in the air, the cock still out, my wet dress, my bare shoulder.

My calm, smirking, tearless face.

The stranger let go of me like I was on fire. He stumbled backwards, hands fumbling at his pants. Too slow.

Vincenzo moved.

Three steps. Each one filled with menace. His hand closed around the stranger’s throat, threateningly.

”Who the hell—we are busy!” The man choked.

Vincenzo didn’t look at him. His eyes found mine.

”Did he touch you?” Two words. Barely disturbing the air.

One word from me and this man would bleed on this tile floor.

I looked at my father. My obsession. And I lied. The way I breathe. Effortlessly.

”Yes.” I looked at Vincenzo dead in the eye and watched his beautiful eyes cloud with violence.

”He called me a slut, Daddy. Then he pulled his little cock out and told me to get on my knees and suck it.” I paused, letting my lie build. ”He said he’d fuck me better than you ever could, Daddy. That you can’t give me what I need.”

The stranger’s face went white. ”That’s—she’s lying! I didn’t grab her, she was flirting with me all night—she asked to see my...”

”He’s lying, Daddy” I waved my fingers boredly, his desperate protests were noise already grating my ears. ”He put both hands on my breasts and squeezed so hard it hurt.” I touched my chest, pouting woundedly.

”She’s full of shit!” The stranger’s eyes were wild now, darting between Vincenzo and me, realizing too late that the truth didn’t matter.

That whatever I said, the man holding him captive was going to believe.

Something behind Vincenzo’s eyes clicked off.

”She’s my daughter.” His voice was calm and yet the coldest I’d heard it. ”And you’re standing in front of her with your cock out.”

”She wanted it, your daughter is a fucking slut!”

Vincenzo hauled him and slammed his head into the nearby mirror.

The glass exploded. Shards rained into the sink, across the floor, the stranger’s blood streaked down, catching the light.

His screams could wake the dead.

Vincenzo pulled him forward and slammed him back again. His head bounced off the wall where the mirror used to be. More blood. The stranger’s legs buckled but Vincenzo held him up by the throat, keeping him pinned.

”You put your hands on my daughter.” Same calm voice. He sounded patient even. Like he was explaining basic math to a dull student. ”You exposed yourself to her. You told her to put her mouth on you.”

”I—please—I didn’t—”

Vincenzo grabbed him by the hair and drove his face into the edge of the porcelain sink.

The impact sounded like a gunshot. He did it again.

The man’s body went slack. Blood poured from everywhere—nose, mouth, a gash above his eye that showed something white underneath.

The sounds from the stranger weren’t screams anymore. Wet, gurgling, wheezing sounds.

Vincenzo let him go.

He dropped to the tile like a puppet cut from its strings, lying in a spreading pool of red making small, mewling sounds.

Vincenzo straightened his cuffs. Rolled his neck and smoothed his dark hair back with a bloodied hand.

Then he turned to me.

His eyes swept over me. I knew what he saw. My face— calm, dry, unshaken face.

Just his little girl leaning against the sink with her arms crossed, watching him like he had just performed the most interesting magic trick she’d ever seen.

I saw it move through his eyes. He knew I wasn’t scared. That I hadn’t been at any point. Vincenzo knew the story was a lie.

Yet he’d beaten a man half to death anyway. Because it didn’t matter if I was lying. A man had followed his daughter into a bathroom with his cock out. The lie just gave him permission.

”We’re leaving,” His voice could have frozen steam.

I pushed off the sink and walked toward the door.

The stranger was curled on the tile. Blood pooled around his head.

I stopped beside him.

His one eye that wasn’t swollen shut cracked open. Through the blood and the ruin, he looked up at me.

I put my heel against his groin.

Slowly.

The thin heel settled between his thighs and I shifted my weight. He tried to scream. What came out was a choked, bubbling sound through his ruined mouth.

I leaned down close enough for him to see my face.

”Next time a girl leaves you a cherry stem,” I whispered, ”ask yourself why.”

I twisted my heel until something give. That was when a firm hand found the back of my neck.

I gasped, spunning.

Oh boy, the rage emanating from Daddy was enough to heat up the entire air around us.