365 Days

by Blanka Lipinska

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  CHAPTER 1

  “Do you know what this means, Massimo?”

  I turned my head toward the window, looking at the cloudless sky, and then fixed the man with a stare.

  “I’ll take over that company whether the Manentes like it or not.”

  I stood up, and Mario and Domenico slowly followed suit, assuming their places behind me. The meeting had been pleasant enough, but it was getting decidedly too long. I shook hands with the men gathered in the room and headed to the door.

  “It will be better for everyone this way.” I lifted my hand, index finger outstretched. “You’ll thank me for it later.”

  I took my jacket off and undid another button of my black shirt. I was sitting in the back seat of the car, savoring the silence and the coolness of the conditioned air.

  “Home,” I growled at the driver, scrolling through the messages on my mobile.

  Most were business related, but one was from Anna. It read, I’m wet, I need to be punished. My penis stirred in my pants. I sighed, grabbing it through the fabric and squeezing hard. Oh yes, my girl always knew my moods.

  She knew the meeting wouldn’t be enjoyable, and that it would only make me weary. She also knew how I liked to unwind. Be ready at eight, I replied, and sat back comfortably, observing the world outside the window as it whizzed by. I closed my eyes.

  There she was again. My cock instantly grew hard as steel. God, I’ll go crazy if I don’t find her. It had been five years since the accident. Five long years since the—how did the doctor put it?—the miracle of death and resurrection. Five years of dreaming about a woman I had never seen in real life. I had met her in my comatose visions. I could almost smell her hair, feel the smoothness of her skin—I could almost feel it. Each time I made love to Anna or any other woman, I made love to her. I named her my Mistress. She was my curse, my obsession, and apparently—my salvation.

  The car stopped. I grabbed my jacket and stepped out. Domenico, Mario, and the other guys I’d taken with me were already waiting on the tarmac. Maybe I’d overdone it, but sometimes you just need a show of force to catch your enemy off guard.

  I greeted the pilot as I entered the plane and sat down in the soft seat. A flight attendant passed me a glass of whisky with a single ice cube. I glanced at her. She knew my tastes. I sent her a blank look, while she blushed and smiled flirtatiously. Why not? I thought, and pushed myself up in a fluid motion.

  I seized the surprised woman by the hand and pulled her with me toward the private part of the jet.

  “Take off!” I called to the pilot, and closed the door, locking the girl and myself in.

  I shot out an arm, clasping my hand over her neck and pushing her against the wall. I fixed her with a gaze. She was terrified. I closed the distance between us, allowed our mouths to touch, and bit her lower lip. She moaned. Her arms hung limply along her body and she stared straight into my eyes. I seized her by the hair and pulled, tilting her head back. Her eyes closed and she moaned again. Such a beauty, so girlish. I required all my employees to be aesthetically pleasing. I liked my things pretty.

  “Kneel,” I growled, pushing her down. She did as she was ordered without hesitation. I purred, praising her submissiveness, and trailed a thumb along her lips. They parted obediently.

  I had never even talked to this girl before, but she immediately knew what she was supposed to do. I gently pushed her head against the wall and unzipped my pants. The flight attendant swallowed loudly, her enormous eyes still fastened on mine.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” I said gently, my thumb moving across her eyelids. “You’ll only open them when I tell you.”

  My cock sprang from my pants, rock-hard, almost painfully stiff. It rested on the girl’s lips, and she obediently opened her mouth. Wide.

  You don’t have any idea what’s coming, darling, I thought, and pushed my prick all the way in, holding her head so she couldn’t move. I felt her choking, and thrust even deeper. Oh yes, I loved it when their eyes snapped wide open in terror, as if they really thought they’d suffocate. I withdrew. Slowly. Then I stroked her cheek in a tender, delicate gesture. I observed her calming down, licking her lips clean of the thick spittle that came deep from her throat.

  “I’ll fuck your mouth,” I said. She was trembling. “May I?”

  My face expressed nothing—no smile, no emotion. For a moment, the girl stared at me with those huge eyes, finally nodding her consent.

  “Thank you,” I breathed, caressing her cheeks with both hands. I leaned her head further back against the wall and slid myself along her tongue all the way to her throat. She clasped her lips around my cock. Oh yes! My hips began to thrust, hard. I could feel her fighting for a breath, so I gripped her harder. That’s it! Her nails bit painfully into my thighs. At first she tried to push me away, then to simply hurt me, scratching my skin. I liked it. I liked it when they fought when they were helpless against my strength. I closed my eyes and saw my Mistress kneeling in front of me, her jet-black eyes piercing me like daggers.

  She loved it when I took her like that. I clenched my hands on her hair even harder, seeing the lust in her stare. I couldn’t last any longer. Two more hard strokes and I froze, while my jizz spurted out from my shaft, filling the girl’s throat, choking her. I opened my eyes and looked at her smeared makeup. I withdrew a fraction, making some space.

  “Swallow,” I growled, pulling her hair once more.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she complied. I pulled my cock out of her mouth and she collapsed back on her heels, sliding down the wall.

  “Now lick it.” The girl froze. “Lick it clean.”

  I propped my arms against the wall in front of me and glared at her menacingly. She hoisted herself up again and grabbed my manhood in one slender hand, starting to lick off the remains of my seed. I smiled faintly, watching as she did her best. When I decided it was enough, I pulled away and zipped my pants.

  “Thank you.” I offered her a steadying hand as she pushed herself up, stood next to me on slightly shaky legs. “The bathroom is there,” I said, pointing her in the right direction, despite the fact that she must have known the plane intimately. She nodded and headed toward the door.

  I returned to my companions and sat, taking a sip of the exquisite liquor, though its temperature had ceased to be perfect sometime before. Mario put down his newspaper and sent me a look.

  “Back in your father’s day, they’d shoot us all dead.”

  I sighed, rolling my eyes, and clinked the glass against the tabletop with irritation.

  “Back in my father’s day we used to bootleg booze and drugs instead of running the biggest companies in Europe.” I leaned back in the chair, pinning my consigliere with an angry stare. “I am the head of the Torricelli family and I got where I am by no quirk of fate. It was my father’s decision. I have been brought up prepared to lead the family and bring it into a new era.” I sighed again, relaxing a little when the flight attendant flitted silently to the front of the plane. “Mario,” I said. “I know you used to like shooting.” The older man, my adviser, allowed himself a slight smile.

  “We’ll have an opportunity for that soon enough.” I sent him a grave look. “Domenico.” I turned to my brother, who was stealing glances at me the whole time. “Tell your men to start look
ing for that whoreson Alfredo.” My eyes traced back to Mario. “You want a shootout? You’ll get one.”

  I took another sip of the whisky.

  The sun over Sicily was setting when we landed in Catania. I put my jacket on and we exited the plane, then headed out toward the terminal entrance. I pulled out my sunglasses, feeling a blast of the scorching-hot air on my skin. Mount Etna loomed over the horizon—perfectly visible today.

  The tourists should be happy, I thought, entering the air-conditioned building.

  “The guys from Aruba want to meet with you over that issue we talked about earlier,” Domenico said, walking by my side. “We have to take care of the Palermo clubs, too.”

  I listened to him intently, silently making a list of things that still needed tending to. Suddenly, it was like everything became dark, even though my eyes were wide open. I saw her. I blinked frantically. I’d only ever seen my Mistress when I wanted to. My eyes widened, but she was already gone. Was my condition deteriorating? Were the hallucinations growing stronger? I needed to go back to that idiot doctor to get examined. Later. For now, I had to get things done. Like find the cocaine dealer who had mysteriously disappeared. Well, not “disappeared” per se, but the term was the closest one that fit the situation. We were approaching the car when I saw her again. Fucking hell, but that’s impossible! I stepped into the parked car and nearly pulled Domenico inside when he opened the other door.

  “It’s her,” I whispered, my throat constricting. I pointed at a girl marching down a walkway, away from us. “It’s the girl.”

  My head was spinning. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Or maybe I was just seeing things. Losing my mind. The car started.

  “Slow down,” my younger brother said as we were closing in on the girl. “Holy shit,” he breathed as we caught up with her.

  My heart skipped a beat. Her head turned; she was looking straight at me, not seeing me through the reflective window. Her eyes, nose, her lips… It was her—just like I’d dreamed. I reached for the handle, but Domenico stopped me.

  A muscular bald man was calling over to my Mistress, and she turned and started walking his way.

  “Not now, Massimo.”

  I sat there, paralyzed. She was right there! She was real! I could have her, touch her. Take her with me and spend the rest of my life with her.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I shouted.

  “She’s with others. We don’t know who they are.”

  The car accelerated and I could do nothing but stare at the fading silhouette of my Mistress.

  “I’m sending people after her right now. You’ll know who she is before we reach home. Massimo!” Domenico was saying, raising his voice. I didn’t react. “You’ve waited so long—you can wait a couple hours more.”

  I pinned him with a gaze so furious and hateful he shrunk away. I could have killed him right there. The quickly diminishing rational part of my brain knew he was right, but the rest—the prevalent part—didn’t want to listen to a word he said.

  “You have one hour,” I growled, staring dumbly at the seat in front of me. “You have sixty fucking minutes to tell me who she is.”

  We parked at the driveway and stepped out. Domenico’s men immediately walked over, handing him an envelope. He passed it to me, and I headed toward the library without another word. I needed to be alone so I could wrap my head around all this.

  I sat behind my desk and tore off the upper side of the envelope, my hands suddenly shaky. I spilled its contents to the desktop.

  “Motherfucker!” I clutched my head in disbelief as the photos—no more paintings ordered from various artists—finally revealed the face of my Mistress. She had a name, a past. And a future she had no idea about. I heard someone knocking on the door. “Not now!” I yelled, not removing my eyes from the photos and notes. “Laura Biel,” I whispered, touching her face on the glossy paper.

  After about thirty minutes of analyzing all the new information, I got up from my desk and sat down in an armchair and froze, staring at the wall.

  “Can I?” Domenico asked, peeking through a crack in the door. I didn’t react, so he entered and sat in the other chair.

  “What now?”

  “We’ll bring her here,” I said numbly, not looking at him. He stayed locked in place, nodding his head slowly.

  “But… how are you going to do that?” He sent me a disbelieving look, as if I were an idiot. Irritating little prick.

  “You’ll go to her hotel and tell her you used to have these visions back when you nearly died and that’s where you saw her…” Domenico trailed off, looking at the note lying on the table in front of me.

  Yes, I added in my head. Laura Biel, you are mine now.

  “I’ll kidnap her,” I said. There was no hesitation in my voice. “Send people to the apartment of that—” I broke off, searching for the name of the bald guy in my notes. “Martin. They are to find out who he is.”

  “Maybe I should ask Carlo? He’s right there,” Domenico said.

  “Good. Tell his men to get everything on the man. I need to find a way to bring her here as soon as possible.”

  “You don’t have to look far, you know.” I shot a glance at the door, from behind which a woman’s voice had sounded. Domenico looked, too.

  “I’m right here.” Anna, all smiles, was walking my way in sky-high heels.

  Fuck, I swore silently. I had completely forgotten about her.

  “Well… I’ll leave you two.” Domenico grinned stupidly, pushed himself up, and headed to the door. “I’ll take care of that thing, and we’ll finish our business tomorrow,” he said.

  The blonde approached me. With one of her long, slender legs, she delicately spread my own. Her scent was intoxicating, as always. A mix of sex and power. She drew up her revealing black silk cocktail dress and sat astride me, pushing her tongue into my mouth.

  “Hit me,” she pleaded, biting my lip, rubbing her clit on the zipper of my pants. “Hard!”

  She licked and bit my ear, and all I could do was stare at the photos scattered on the table. I pulled off my tie, which I had loosened earlier, and got up, pushing Anna down to the floor. I turned her around and blindfolded her with the tie. She smiled, her tongue tracing a line over her lower lip. She found the table with an outstretched arm, stood up, legs spread wide, and bent over the oak slab. She was wearing nothing under that dress. I walked over to her and smacked her on the ass. Hard. She yelped, head turning to the side, opening her mouth wide. The sight of the photos spread over the table and the thought that my Mistress was so close immediately made my dick hard as steel.

  “Oh yes,” I purred, gently rubbing her wet snatch, keeping my eyes on the pictures of Laura. I grabbed her by the neck, lifting her for an instant and removing all the papers she had lain over. I let her lie over the desktop again, lifting her arms above her head. Then I arranged the photos so they all faced me. To possess the woman from those pictures… There was nothing I wanted more.

  I was ready to come at once. I pulled my pants down quickly and slid two fingers into Anna. She moaned, squirming under my touch. Her pussy was wet and hot and so tight. My fingers started to circle her clit and she grabbed the edge of the table harder.

  My left hand shot out to grab her by the neck, and my right smacked her on the ass cheek. I felt an inexplicable relief. I shot another glance at one of the photos and slapped her again, even harder. She screamed, but I hit her again and again, as if it could really change her into Laura. Her ass was purpling. I bent over and licked it. It was hot and pulsating. I spread her ass cheeks and began trailing my tongue around her sweet hole, visualizing my Mistress all the time.

  “Yes,” she moaned softly.

  I need to have her. Laura. I need her to be mine, I thought, straightening and impaling Anna with my throbbing cock. She bent her back into an arch and then lowered herself to the wooden table, now wet with sweat. I fucked her hard, keeping my gaze fixed on Laura. It won’t be long now. Soon, th
ose black eyes will look at me as she kneels before me.

  “You bitch!” I clenched my teeth, feeling Anna’s body go rigid.

  I pushed myself inside her hard and aggressive, heedless of the orgasmic waves rippling all over her body. I didn’t care. Laura’s eyes made me want more, but at the same time I couldn’t last any longer. I needed to feel more. Experience everything fully. I slid my cock out of her pussy and slammed it into her tight ass. I heard her scream wildly in pain and ecstasy and felt her tighten around me. My prick exploded with cum, but the only thing I could see was my Mistress.

  Eight Hours Earlier

  The sound of the alarm clock pierced my brain.

  “Get up, honey. It’s nine already. We have to be at the airport in an hour. Our Sicilian vacation awaits. Wakey, wakey!” Martin stood at the bedroom door, sporting a wide grin.

  I opened my eyes slowly, reluctantly. It’s the middle of the night for me, for God’s sake. What a barbaric idea to fly at this time, I thought. Since I’d left work a few weeks ago, time of day stopped making any sense. I would go to sleep too late, wake up too late, and the worst of it was that I didn’t have to do anything. I could do what I wanted. I’d spent too much time in the quagmire of the hotel business, and when I had finally gotten my dream position as a sales manager, I quit. I just lost the passion for my work. I never thought that at the age of twenty-nine I’d feel burned-out, but those were the facts.

  Working at the hotel had been satisfying and fulfilling, and it was good for my ego. Every time I negotiated a big contract, I felt the thrill of excitement, and when those negotiations involved competing with more experienced people—adepts at the art of manipulation—I was exhilarated. Especially when I won. Each little victory in my financial battles had given me the feeling of superiority.

  It satisfied the vainer side of my character. It might sound stupid, but as a girl from a small Polish town who hadn’t even graduated university, proving my value to everyone around was a priority.