Page 10 of Forbidden Pregnancy (The Buffalo Italian Mob Family #2)

Chapter Seven

Myra

Present

M y left arm tingles. The painful throbbing from a limb falling asleep jerks me awake. The jerking remains internal rather than external. My mind snaps awake, but my body remains still and worse than that, I feel like I'm pinned in place.

Pinned in place? By what? It doesn't even make sense. But nothing makes sense to me because it feels like I'm swimming through heavy water just to piece together a coherent thought. Move .

That thought is clear. An immediate command that my body should be able to follow. Except nothing moves. Another clear thought enters my head shortly after.

I don't know where I am.

I send another signal to my limbs, which I can't feel in my current condition. Move.

My body reacts with such a delay that I can almost feel the signal traveling from my brain all the way down to my thighs. My leg jerks slightly, but all that does is pin me further beneath the heavy object lying on top of me.

It's dark in here, making the disorientation worse. What happened? A bomb? Hearing about the 9th Circle bombing a few months ago must have seeped its way into my head. I would know if a bomb went off.

I wouldn't be able to hear anything if a bomb went off. Especially not breathing... Breathing. I can feel my own breathing slow and barely capable of sucking air into my lungs without a light whistle. Fighting through the discomfort, I hold my breath in long enough to listen.

There's another person in this room. The heavy object? I resume breathing, desperate for oxygen as the heavy object on top of me moves... proving that it's alive and proving that wherever we are is so... so... cold.

My limbs are completely numb from the weight cutting off blood flow, so even if this is another large human being lying on top of me, the only way I can get them off me is getting the blood flow back to my extremities.

I start moving, hoping my mind wakes up with my fingers and toes so I can remember what happened to me.

Focusing my attention on moving my extremities enough to resume proper blood flow gives me a mission to avoid a full blown panic over the situation I'm in.

What the hell happened to me last night? The last thing I remember is my former student CC wrapping her arms around me and catching up with me about... everything.

The whole damn mess I'm in.

Maybe this is one of those "everything happens for a reason" situations and I lost my frozen eggs because I was never meant to be a mother. I was meant to die in the darkness beneath a complete stranger...

Pins and needles in my fingers and toes are so sharp that I almost cry out as I regain the complete range of motion in my arms from the elbow all the way down. The signals from my brain are still delayed, but finally... I send one big command to my hands and feet.

Move!

I shove as hard as possible against the large object pinning me painfully to the bed and... something happens. The object moves. I can't celebrate too soon. Weight shifts off my chest allowing me to breathe for a second before slamming across my neck, smothering me in a patch of... hair?!

Stinky armpit hair. I cry out, screaming in terror and confusion as the armpit moves into my open mouth. I spit and kick again, panic sending a burst of energy to my limbs. Oxygen enters my lungs along with the spicy, unwashed scent of armpit that unfortunately smells... familiar.

Michael Corsini.

The next scream out of my lungs has real force behind it as the truth smacks me across the face like a flat swatter crushing a fly against a granite kitchen countertop.

I'm in bed with Michael Corsini. I'm naked in bed with Michael Corsini. I scream loud enough to wake the dead and immediately regret it. My realization hits too late and I wake the beast with my scream.

Now, he really does look like a beast, his ugliness matching every bit of what I saw twelve years ago when he used me for his own gratification and discarded me like I was nothing when I became an inconvenience.

I don't want to wake up anywhere near this man... and now... I have further justification for my concern. He's so brutal and entitled that he drugged me to have his way with me.

Michael shifts his weight off me, rolling onto the other side of what I now realize is a pretty large bed with a firm mattress.

He groans as he lies on his back and I scream again before my instincts tell me to fight instead of running away.

I hop on top of Michael Corsini and throw the hardest punch I can towards his face.

He throws out a palm to meet my punch and I don’t know why I think I can fool him with an uppercut.

He holds both my fists easily in his hands, so what I’ve done is given him complete control over me, while almost straddling him with a knee digging into his abdomen.

I’m too vulnerable. Quickly, I try to scramble away from Michael.

But apparently throwing a punch upset him.

He twists my arms and quickly flips me over onto my back, ignoring how loudly I’m screaming at him to let go of me.

I’m throwing my legs at him as hard as I can, but it feels like kicking a wall and each thrust of my legs against Michael’s body sends pain searing through me.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!” he screams in my face, outraged like a wild boar with an arrow stuck in its ass. I wince and turn my face away from Michael’s as he sprays me with his spit and then moves my thighs apart with his knee to make me even more vulnerable when he pins me to the bed.

“LET ME GO!” I yell at him after a minute or so of wordlessly and fruitlessly struggling against Michael’s grasp, which moves to my wrists so he can pin me to the bed more easily.

I can’t breathe. I need him to let go, but I can feel his chest pulsing with rage as the ‘heavy object’ awakens into a raging beast.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he snarls at me. “It’s bad enough you ruined my life, you’re back again to add to my humiliation by drugging me and doing… whatever the fuck you’ve done…”

Michael’s hand moves roughly between my thighs. I yelp in horror as he slides his finger between my lower lips. We’re both naked, but I definitely didn’t take my clothes off voluntarily.

He growls with outrage. “You made me cum inside you.”

What the fuck!?

“Michael, NO!” I scream, wishing there was more light in the room so I could at least make pleading eye contact with this monster instead of contending with his heavy, six-foot-five inch frame naked in his bed. This can’t be happening to me. Why the hell would Michael think I wanted to drug him?

And if he thinks I drugged him, does that mean he didn’t drug me, or is this just a part of his game?

No time to think. His finger parts my lower lips roughly again and I scream as he examines me thoroughly and without a hint of romance or affection.

My chest tightens in a painful knot as Michael removes his fingers and rubs his findings off on my thighs.

I shiver and produce an involuntary soft whimper that makes me sound like a dying rabbit. I’m just as vulnerable despite my efforts to punch him in the face. He easily pins me to the bed with one hand while the other searches between my thighs.

“That’s my cum,” Michael growls as he continues rubbing his wet fingers on my leg. “You’re not just wet. You drugged me and tricked me to cum inside you.”

“No!”

“Don’t lie to me, Myra!” Michael bellows.

I still can’t make out his facial features in the darkness.

There’s just his jawline growing slightly sharper as my eyes adjust. He moves his free hand from my exposed wetness all the way up to my neck and that sad little whimper emerges again as I remain fully powerless to Michael’s attack, which he naturally views as self defense.

His palm curls around my neck, but he doesn’t squeeze.

“Why did you need my cum?” he growls. I shiver with terror, but there’s also a pulse of rage from witnessing Michael have so much conviction in his delusions.

“I don’t need your cum. I didn’t do this!” I growl, lobbing one more kick at the general area of his nuts, just in case I get lucky. I’m not done fighting. I hit Michael’s thigh, but I don’t cause further damage to anything aside from his ego.

Unfortunately, this proves to be a huge mistake.

“You lying brat…” he snarls, spreading my thighs apart and tightening his control over my wrists as his fingers prepare to search me for more of his cum.

I shudder and squeeze my eyes shut, even if I can’t see a damn thing in the dark room anyways.

Michael rubs my entrance, forcing me to acknowledge that he’s right about the soaking wetness between my thighs.

It’s not enough for me to feel how wet I am.

He slides a finger inside me hard. I cry out as the first thing to enter me in years slides all the way inside me and Michael hooks his finger before swirling it around as he continues his search for “evidence”.

“It’s my cum,” he growls into my ear as I whimper in terror. “I’m just getting it back…”

It doesn’t hurt. This would be so much easier if it hurt.

Instead, Michael moves his head between my legs and his tongue spreads me open and the wetness inside me immediately gushes out.

My stomach flutters with the dark realization that part of his accusation holds truth to it.

There’s something unfamiliar and warm soaking my entrance, now getting pushed around by Michael’s tongue.

I let out a loud yelp as Michael hits my sweet spot and then moves his tongue around purposefully. He pulls away from me just as I emit the most unwilling gasp, as if he already wants to revel in breaking me.

“You have my cum inside you.”

“And you… just… tasted it…” I gasp, trying my best to sound judgmental, but instead coming across as breathlessly horny. That can’t be my voice right now because I am not at all turned on by Michael having his tongue between my legs.

I don’t care that his tongue reminds me of the first time I ever experienced a man between my legs like that — with none other than the same beast now pinning me to his bed and accusing me of drugging him.

Like I would ever do something that crazy.

Like I wasn’t the one who finally hauled ass away from his disrespect.

“I can taste your pussy whenever I want,” Michael growls. “If you’re going to drug me just to get my cum inside you, I’ll take whatever pleasure I feel…”

Before I can respond, Michael flattens his tongue and gives me a slow, possessive lick from the soft top of my exposed clit all the way down to my puckered back door where he stops and then slides his tongue past the tight elastic back door and he tastes me like he owns this part of me.

He doesn’t own me at all. My feet jerk out against Michael’s shoulders in an effort to push him away that only ends up spreading me more for him.

“Good,” he murmurs as he smacks his lips and moves on to french kissing my pussy. “Spread those legs, Myra. I missed that sweet ass pussy…”

His tongue goes so deep inside me after that, removing any doubt that Michael misses me. The energy flows from his lips and he remembers every damn thing that makes me feel good because my unwilling gasps turn into moans and I can feel my body approaching an intense orgasm.

“Fuck…” I moan as Michael’s tongue slides around my clit in a smooth circle, pushing me past the point of no return and forcing me to cum hard all over his face.

I cry out after I swear as Michael sucks on my pussy lips and forces me to erupt in a juicy climax.

Dribbling wetness bursts from me as Michael holds my legs open and exposed.

“Tell me the truth,” he growls. “Did you drug me?”

“No. Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you missed me.”

But I didn’t miss him. I wasn’t thinking about him at all.

That’s what makes Michael’s reappearance in my life so downright jarring.

I healed from him. I left him in the past…

and I never thought I would see this man again.

I’m not the kind of woman who lingers on what could have been.

It wasn’t and it won’t be because over the past twelve years, neither of us have changed.

“I didn’t miss you at all.”

I want my voice to sound cold, but instead, I choke up. What the hell is wrong with me? I mean every word I just said. I haven’t thought about Michael. But something about the way I say those words makes me sound like I’m aching for him.

“You could get pregnant from this,” he says. “Whoever pulled this stunt knows that.”

“Yeah.”

My stomach tightens in a concerned knot. I remember one more person from last night.

“CC,” I whisper idly, but her name catches on the same loose thread in Michael’s mind. I feel his body freezing over mine, immediately tensing up as I mention the younger sister he’s spent his entire life fighting and protecting depending on the shifting tides.

“What about her?”

“Last night. Do you think she could have done this?”

It’s Michael’s turn to drop an f-bomb. It’s true, isn’t it? Cosima Corsini, for some fucked up reason, pushed the two of us together.