Page 32 of Claiming Vanessa
I move the other tray of sushi to the floor and stretch out lengthwise on the bed, crowding Vanessa against the wall. It’s just a twin, so there really isn’t enough space for two people. “Forcesounds nasty,” I say, still smiling. “I prefercoerce. Or…incentivize? Ooh, that’s almost respectable.”
“Nothing about you is respectable,” she mutters. She stares down at the bed instead of looking at me.
“Like your family’s any better,” I answer. “Did you enjoy that fancy mansion and fancy education, growing up? All that money your daddy earned running drugs and guns. And a few seedy clubs, too. You benefited from all of that.”
She looks like a deer in the headlights. “He didn’t… force himself on women. He had mistresses, but he didn’t do human trafficking. Maybe he had some dealings with drugs and guns, but that’s much more preferable to what you do.”
“Sure, sure. Your daddy only facilitated murder and addiction. That’s far better. Those kids who got hooked on coke and meth your dad fed into the city, where do you think they ended up?” I reach up to stroke her cheek. “A lot of the girls end up in places like this. Some of the boys, too.”
Vanessa flinches away from my touch, but she has nowhere to go. She could try to climb over me, but she wouldn’t like how that would go and she clearly knows it. I smile lazily at her, cupping her cheek with my hand, firm enough to where she can’t do anything about it. “That doesn’t make you a better person,” she mumbles, but it’s clear I’ve taken some of the wind from her sails.
“Better? Nah. I’m just saying, your moral high ground is made of moving sand.” I place my other hand on her waist and tug a little. “Come on, lie down with me. Let’s have a cuddle, if we’re going to have a heart-to-heart.”
She shakes her head, trying to back up, but all she can do is press herself more closely against the wall.
“Okay, how about this: have a cuddle with me, because the more we chat, the less time I have to fuck you.” I wink at her appalled expression. “Or I can get straight to the main event. I think this is calledcoercion.”
Her face is pale, and she squirms a little, looking over my shoulder at the rest of the small room. I almost want to laugh. Even if she got around me, where does she really think she’d go?
Instead of pulling back again, she slowly presses herself against me. It’s awkward, like she doesn’t even know how to give a proper cuddle, and I wonder how many guys have had her in a position like this.
I kiss her briefly, enjoying how she instantly tenses. “You ever sneak a guy into your house? Had to make out all quiet in hopes your daddy didn’t notice?”
Again, Vanessa shakes her head. I don’t know how honest she’s being. She’d tried to play herself off as a slut at first, thinking that would somehow dissuade us, but that hadn’t worked. Maybe she thinks playing herself off as virginal will go better for her, but that’s laughable. All that’ll do is keep Slayer interested in her that much longer.
“I did,” I tell her, grinning. “My old man wouldn’t have cared if I’d snuck a girl in, but guys? Oh man. Any guy even willing to kiss me under his roof should have had his head examined. Thankfully, my old man never even fucking suspected.” I start unbuttoning the shirt she’s wearing. “Did you fuck Damien while he was guarding you?”
She squirms, shaking her head. “You don’t have to do this for his sake, you know. Especially if you don’t even like women,” she tries, and it takes me a moment to realize she thinks Ionlywanted to sneak boys into my room when I was growing up.
“Dude, check your assumptions,” I tease. “This is bisexual erasure. I won’t stand for it.” I cup one of her breasts, squeezing, and move one leg over hers.
Her shoulders slump, like she’d been hoping that was the case, that Damien was somehowforcingme into being with her.
“Besides, how else am I supposed to continue the Pavone Family legacy?” I say. I kiss her cheek again, then lick my way to her mouth. “Did Damien do this to you, too? Or was he a perfect gentleman while he watched over you?”
She shudders. “I don’t want to talk about Damien,” she mumbles.
I brush hair out of her face, as if we really are just lovers cuddling on a bed. “Why not? I really want to know what you did to get him so enamored with you. Did you have nice chats? You told him about going to college, I know that much.”
“We didn’t talk much,” she says, trying to squirm back beyond my reach. “I don’t know why he’s… enamored.”
“He’s hard to read, yeah.” I massage one of her breasts, teasing her nipple so that it hardens beneath my touch. She bites her lip, but a small whimper escapes her as I lightly pinch it. “Doesn’t talk much, but he’s always paying attention. That’s what makes him a great consigliere. And he’s not afraid to tell you the truth. My old man definitely didn’t appreciate him enough.”
“He talked back to your dad,” Vanessa says slowly. She gives a small shake of her head then grabs for my wrist, trying to force my hand away from her breast. “But he’s… creepy.”
I allow my hand to be moved, only to push the blanket down, exposing her legs. I wedge one hand between her thighs, just holding it there. “Yeah? Most people don’t think so. The girls here like him. They’d call Slayer creepier.” I grin at her. “How would you rate the three of us, on the creepiness scale?”
“...pretty high,” she says, squirming and trying to get away from me—but there’s nowhere for her to go. “All three of you are…” She bites her lip.
“Nah, I meant, rate us on a scale of one to ten. And you can’t use any number twice. Hell, add my old man to the scale just so I know how I compare to him.” I start rubbing at her cunt through her panties. The fabric is a bit rougher than I’d like, so I make a mental note to have Damien pick up some nice silk ones for Vanessa.
She tries harder to push my hand away, but I roll my eyes at her.
“Your father was a ten, Slayer’s an eight, Damien’s a nine, you’re a seven,” she says.
“Damn, I have to step up my game.” I slip two fingers past the fabric so I can touch her directly. “What game should we play? Horny teens, sneaking in and trying to avoid my ultra-creepy dad?”
“I don’t want to play any games with you,” she says. Her fingernails dig into my wrist. “Let go of me!”