Chapter 27: Dante And Valentina

Valentina's POV

"That's impossible."

No sooner had I said it than I screamed.

My brother's two fingers brought me unprecedented pleasure.

As he pumped his fingers, he asked, "What's impossible?"

"I can't squirt." I had used B.O.B. before, but unfortunately, it had never made me squirt, only climax.

Dante's lips curved into that arrogant smirk I both hated and craved. "You can throw away those useless electronic boyfriends. I guarantee you've never experienced a real orgasm."

He quickened his finger movements, curling them inside me with practiced precision, and my body trembled violently. The obscene wet sounds from my pussy filled the room.

"Hold your legs up." Dante commanded, his voice husky with desire. "Once I feel you tighten, I'm going to spank your pussy."

The darkness in his tone sent another rush of wetness between my thighs. I obeyed, grabbing behind my knees and pulling them toward my chest, exposing myself completely to him. His eyes darkened at the sight, his jaw clenching as he continued his relentless assault on my most sensitive spot.

I couldn't control my climax. It built rapidly, an unstoppable wave of sensation that crashed over me without warning. My hips lifted off the bed as the pressure inside me suddenly released. I squirted, and I could hear the liquid hitting the floor. Unable to hold back, my legs clamped around his hand.

Dante slapped my vulva, the sharp sting only intensifying my pleasure. "Now, you need to accept your punishment."

My back arched off the bed, a strangled cry tearing from my throat as another wave of pleasure washed over me. I'd never experienced anything like this—this complete surrender of control, this overwhelming intensity. With each slap, my body responded, squirting more, trembling more violently.

--

Dante's POV

With each slap, I could feel her squirting more. The sight of her—completely undone, walls down, vulnerable in a way I'd never seen before—was almost enough to make me lose control. I desperately wanted to thrust my cock into her pussy, to claim her completely, but I knew she couldn't take more at that moment.

Instead, I just held her, scooping her trembling body into my arms. I carried her to the mirror, my arm under her knees, positioning her pussy in front of the reflective surface.

"It's all red and swollen now, very pretty," I whispered in her ear, watching her reflection as she took in the sight of herself—debauched, marked by me. "Do you like my work?"

My sister's eyes met mine in the mirror, something defiant flickering there despite her exhaustion. "It's mine."

I tightened my grip on her, possessiveness surging through me. "I'll show you who it belongs to later," I promised, my voice a dangerous rumble. "Now, I'm going to take you to the shower."

In the bathroom, I set her down gently on the edge of the tub, turning on the water and adjusting the temperature. She was still dazed, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. I stripped off the remains of my clothes before helping her into the shower.

The hot water cascaded over us, steam filling the small bathroom. I washed her carefully, my hands gentle now as they moved over her sensitive skin. She leaned into my touch, her earlier resistance completely gone.

After drying her off with a towel, I carried her back to the bedroom and laid her on the bed. She looked exhausted, her eyelids heavy, but there was a peaceful expression on her face that I'd rarely seen.

I slid into bed beside her, pulling the sheets over our naked bodies. The room was quiet, just the sound of our breathing and the distant city noises filtering through the window.

As I held her, my gaze wandered around the unfamiliar room. Sheila had decorated the guest bedroom with simple but tasteful furniture, leaving few personal touches. But there, on the nightstand, was a small framed photograph that caught my attention.

It was Val and a man—her father. She couldn't have been more than eight or nine in the picture, her ash-blonde hair shorter then, her smile wide and carefree. He was holding her on his shoulders, both of them laughing. They had the same eyes.

Val followed my gaze, her expression softening when she saw what I was looking at. Something vulnerable flickered across her face.

"He loved me," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "More than anything."

I remained silent, sensing she needed to speak.

"He used to call me his 'little principessa,'" she continued, a sad smile playing on her lips. "Said I was too smart for my own good."

Her fingers traced patterns on my chest absently as she spoke, her eyes distant. "The day it happened, he was supposed to pick me up from school. He never missed picking me up, not once. But that day, he was late."

I could feel her body tensing beside me as the memories surfaced.

"I waited for hours. Eventually, one of his men came instead. I knew something was wrong the moment I saw him." Her voice cracked slightly. "They didn't tell me until we got home. Said there had been an 'accident.'"

She fell silent for a moment, her breathing uneven. When she spoke again, her voice was hollow. "It wasn't an accident. It was my uncle Sal. He ordered the hit, then walked into our house with my father's blood still on his shoes."

My arm tightened around her instinctively.

"I saw him," she whispered. "His face... there was so much blood. They wouldn't let me near him, but I saw him. I still see him, sometimes, in my dreams."

A single tear slid down her cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb, pulling her closer.

"After that, everything changed. Sal took everything—the business, our home, our security. My mother was terrified. That's why she married your father so quickly. She thought it would protect us."

Her voice grew bitter. "But I don't need protection. I need justice."

I understood then—her drive, her ambition, the calculated way she moved through life. It wasn't just about survival; it was about vengeance.

As she spoke, her eyelids grew heavier, the emotional toll of her confession combined with her physical exhaustion finally overtaking her.

"Love continues, Val," I told her softly, stroking her hair. "If one person's love ends, it transfers to someone else, and someone will love you more than your father did."

But she had already fallen asleep, her breathing deep and even, her body curled trustingly against mine.

I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and closed my eyes, letting sleep claim me as well, my arms still wrapped protectively around her.