Capo di Foia Ch. 02

A tall shadow appeared in the doorway.

"Leave us." The room was empty in seconds. The door latched shut.

Samantha heard Franco's steps across the wooden floor. He approached the bed, but continued walking. Suddenly, she heard a match strike.

"Three candles. So that's how you managed." Samantha tried to turn her head but couldn't see behind her. The dark room became alight with dancing shadows. She felt him approach. Suddenly, his hand was on her neck, his long fingers caressing her skin. She shuddered.

Franco stepped around to face her. Through his woven shirt, his chest and shoulders appeared much larger than she'd noticed before; this was a man capable of administering his own beatings. He spoke.

"Samantha," he began solemnly. "You should know that I will never stand by and allow any harm come to those I love." She didn't dare to speak, his dark eyes scorching any courage she'd ever possessed.

"Quite honestly," he continued, "I would slaughter the man who did that to Anthony." Samantha looked down, trembling with fear.

"HOW. How could you cut his face?? What did he do to deserve that?!" Franco half-snarled.

Suddenly she didn't know; her reasoning no longer made sense. She hesitated, searching for words. "I... I wanted to break free," she said, her voice breaking.

SMACK. The sting of his slap burned her cheek, shattering the train of self-pity. She'd barely opened her eyes and lifted her head before his hand smacked across the other cheek. She waited, face turned, anticipating him striking again. He did not.

Franco watched her, panting. "You nearly blinded him," he finally said. "Two tours in Afghanistan didn't do to him what you did."

The sight of Tony's rueful face, apologizing and coursing blood, stirred in her memory. She was prepared to kill the boy, a man who'd never laid a hand on her.

"I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry," she breathed, tears welling up anew.

She heard a soft "click", and looked down to see a Stiletto switchblade in Franco's left hand. He took a half-step back, his jaw fixed.

"NO!! Please, please -- no!" she whimpered.

She cried out as the knife lunged toward her stomach, but Franco tilted the blade and ripped through the fabric of her blouse. Her eyes tightly shut, Samantha heard the cloth tear, felt her stomach and chest exposed to the cool air of the room. She felt the blade sweep down across her stomach, the tip's precarious tickle eliciting goose-bumps. She tried to still her panicked chest from rising and falling. The knife slipped under her waistband, and in a single, long slash the fabric was torn to reveal her thigh and leg. Franco repeated the action on the other leg.

Samantha heard the knife hit the floor, and was suddenly gripped by a new fear, her clothes hanging loosely off her shoulders and at her feet.

She opened her eyes, but Franco's gaze no longer met them. His head bowed, he was looking over her exposed flesh, fervidly, with unconcealed desire. The method of his appraisal, coal-black eyes traveling over her collarbone, her breasts, her arms, across her stomach and down her legs made her feel more exposed than she'd ever been in her life. She squeezed her legs together as tightly as she could.

He stepped in closely; she could feel the fabric of his slacks and woven shirt skim her bare skin. His hand found her hair and pulled her head back sharply. Samantha gasped a pained intake of air.

Now his velvet lips were on her neck, muzzling, brushing and then nibbling exquisite kisses across the most tender parts of her skin. She made no sound, but couldn't silence her panting.

His finger slipped under one bra strap, lifting it away from her shoulder, before peeling it slowly down her arm, letting the fabric brush across her skin. The other hand moved to her face, cupping her cheek in the most tender of gestures. His thumb brushed across her parted lips, as he continued his assault, licking and gently sucking the delicate flesh above her collar bone. Samantha's hands strained against their binds and a whimper escaped her lips.

Franco stepped in closer and she could feel the unmistakable bulge in his pants press against her lower stomach. More, she thought. She wanted more.

His lips grazed hers -- just once - sparking a flush of electricity she'd not felt since her very first kiss. Samantha extended her chin, begging for him, and Franco answered. He kissed her fully, expertly -- his impassioned lips blazing heat and beckoning her own. Samantha licked to taste the warmth of his mouth, and soon their kisses were deep and wet, alternately fierce and tantalizingly soft.

Samantha felt his knee force its way between her thighs, and nudge each leg out of his way before pressing his groin into the apex of her thighs. Jesus, Samantha realized she must be dripping wet but answered his call by grinding lewdly against him.

His kisses worked their way down below her chin before he pulled away, searching her spellbinding emerald eyes. He burned with passion at the site of her, overcome with hunger and nearly undone. She watched his eyes drop to her breasts, the frightened nipples protruding through her sheer bra. One hand held her chin firmly in place as the other dropped to her breast. The thumb grazed across her nipple. "Oh god," Samantha whispered, swooning with need.

"You make it very hard for me to punish you," he answered gruffly, his voice thick with desire. Samantha watched his head dip down to her chest, and take her breast in his mouth, lapping his tongue across the sheer fabric and bathing her pert nipple in ecstasy.

"Please..." she whined, as he turned to lavish the same attention to her other breast.

"God, god, god -- I want it," Samantha begged, and Franco returned to her lips, peeling both bra straps off completely before taking the weight of her full breasts in his hands.

"Believe me, Samantha, I want it too," he breathed against her ear. "But you keep misbehaving," he said, slamming his lower body into hers. Samantha groaned, feeling the wetness in her panties. Franco kissed her again before biting her lower lip, steadily increasing pressure until Samantha feared he might draw blood. She whined, straining against the bedpost.

He released. Samantha's lip felt swollen. "Such a filthy girl," he chided, holding her face in his hands.

"Fuck me," she begged him, fear in her eyes.

Franco licked his lips as he stared down at her. "No."

"Why not?" Her eyes widened.

"Because," he answered. "You're being punished."

Franco left the room, and closed the door.