Chapter 28

Isabella

We pull up to the small house in the middle of nowhere Connecticut. Honestly, the bathroom at my house was probably as big as this whole place.

Towering trees surround us on all sides, and the smell of late-night dew wafts toward my nose as soon as I open the car door. I stand and stretch my legs, then I take a good look around at the place.

One faint yellow light illuminates the small concrete porch. Spiderwebs criss-cross and twist around the rusting white metal fixture. It's so much different from the home I came from.

Home.

It can never be my home again. I've turned my back on my flesh and blood.

It still stings a little to think of what I've left behind, even though my father sold me off like livestock. I'm more than a prized broodmare with a mile-long pedigree, though. I could have had an entire world laid out in front of me if I just stayed married to Antonio, but I'm not that kind of girl and that wasn't the life I wanted for myself. Why my father thought I'd be complacent when I've always been anything but is beyond me.

But I guess it didn't help that I went along with it, even if I knew I'd be miserable for all of eternity. So maybe I'm more of an accomplice to my own unhappiness than I want to believe.

Regardless, Vance threw a wrench into the machine my father and the Vendettis built. Any bit of expected normalcy was shattered the moment he made me come. I could no longer remain a bitch on a leash once I tasted the freedom I'd been denied for so many years.

The light flicks on in front of me, and Vance's arms wrap around my waist before he pulls me inside. "I know it's much shittier here than a princess like you deserves," he says, his mouth dropping to my shoulder.

"Shut up. It's perfect," I say.

It's old and small, and the furniture looks like it's seen better days. The appliances appear to be older than I am—maybe even older than my father. Paint flakes at the seam where the ceiling meets the wall. But Vance is here, and that makes it perfect. I'd walk into a cardboard box with a smile on my face if it was Vance's fucking box.

"Do you think they found Antonio yet?" I ask.

"They probably found him as soon as they found out what I did to their guards." His expression shifts into sadistic pleasure, as if he thoroughly enjoyed what he's done. What he did for me. And what he's done goes right to the juncture between my legs too.

As if sensing the growing heat between my thighs, he spins me around and pushes me against the wall. His lips find mine, heavy and hungry.

I pull away to take a breath. "Have you ever had sex with anyone here?"

His eyebrow lifts. "The women I've had here were clients. Nothing more. You know I take my job very seriously."

"Serious as murder," I say with a smirk. "Does that mean I get to be a first for you?"

He laughs. "You've been plenty of firsts for me, Bella. I've never driven as a woman dry-humped my leg. I've never fucked a virgin. Or a mafia princess. Oh yeah, or committed multiple homicides and abducted said princess."

I smirk. "Guess we're even."

"Nowhere near," he growls. His hands clamp around my waist before he lifts me and sets me on top of the worn countertop in the kitchen.

My hands drop between my legs. "No way. I need to shower," I tell him. We drove for hours after he fucked me. A shower is for sure in my very near future.

He wipes my hair from my face. "I don't care how dirty you feel. I'm just going to make you dirtier."

I nearly choke on his words. My mouth just stutters. But still, no.

"Hard pass." I push him away from me and drop to the floor. "Which way to the bathroom, daddy?"

He growls and grabs my hand, dragging me toward the room down the hall. Before I can even close the door, he's ripped my dress from my body and stripped himself as well. Shadows bloom beneath every hard curve of muscle, and I can't take my eyes away. He's mouthwatering.

And he's mine.

He turns on the water and stares at me, his hand wrapped around his chin in the most delicious look of restraint. I get in the shower, the cool water pebbling my skin. A quick turn of the old knob brings needed warmth to my body. The warmth only grows when Vance steps inside, sandwiches me against the wall, and closes the door behind him.

He grabs a bottle of body wash and pours it into his open hand, then he runs it over my naked body. The soap builds to a slippery lather on my skin, and his slick fingers glide over my abdomen and down my hips. His hands move to my ass, rubbing and squeezing as he cleans me.

I've never been washed like that. It's an out-of-body experience, as if I'm floating above us as his powerful touch rubs away every ounce of dirt, tension, and pain. His hands move to my breasts, and he holds their weight before letting them slip through his grasp. His palms brush my nipples, but his touch doesn't linger. He continues to cleanse and tease me.

A moan leaves my lips. "Daddy," I whisper.

His soapy hand floats between my legs, cleaning away the dried blood and come. "So clean," he growls. "I can't wait to make you filthy again."

He plucks the showerhead from the caddy and rinses me off. My head drops back, and I breathe in the clean scent. My hair becomes a silk curtain draping down my back. His fingers work through the strands until he entangles himself and pulls me to my knees.

His cock stands erect in front of my face. Using my hair as a handlebar, he pushes my lips onto him and impales the back of my throat. The way he moves me is so hungry. Driven. Like I belong to him. I guess I kind of do.

Vance's hand rests beneath my chin and slides back toward my throat as he fucks it. He feels so much bigger in my mouth, stretching my throat.

"Good fucking girl," he growls.

A warm, floating feeling washes over me as his fingers squeeze one side of my neck and his thumb constricts the other. My eyes roll to the back of my head.

"Play with your pussy," he whispers. "I want to feel your orgasm through your throat."

I do as he tells me, with the warm floating feeling still carrying me, and drop my hand between my legs. I stroke myself in tight circles. My fingers swirl in bigger loops as my hips buck against the pleasure. He fucks my face, and it makes me throb. Cool water drips down my back and adds another layer of sensations.

"You're tightening around me. Your teeth are raking my skin as you get close. Come for me so I can spill my load down your throat."

I dig the fingers of my free hand into his thigh as the pleasure brews between mine. An intense cyclone of feelings swirls between my legs. The powerful, mind-bending force heats my skin from my pelvis to my face.

Tears stream down my cheeks as I come, as his cock drives deeper and makes me gag. The warm flood of liquid between my legs matches what slips down my throat, and I gag again as he pulls his cock from my mouth.

The taste is terrible. The texture? Even worse. But it's Vance, and I'll take anything he gives me.

I'll take it all. Even a life so different from what I'm used to.