My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 337

Chapter 337: 337/Exposing the Secret Hunger

Chapter 337:

Julie’s POV

I entered my room with highly staggering, lost, and heavy steps while gripping the neck of the glass liquor bottle with trembling fingers. I completely ignored Jake’s presence, as if his towering body stationed in the house hallway were merely a mirage or the remnants of a non-existent phantom.

I slammed the door behind me with a swift, violent movement to isolate myself inside my own narrow, private world, far away from his continuous hatred and malice that tracked me like a curse in every corner.

I moved toward the bed as hot, blazing breaths ascended from my chest in rapid succession due to the burning gulps of alcohol that had begun to travel like fire through my blood and numb my brain cells. With dead, cold, and exhausted limbs, I began stripping off my heavy winter coat, watching it fall to the ground with neglect and chaos. Then, I extended my tense, disturbed hand to the zipper of my long black dress and lowered it slowly, letting it slide off my shoulders fluidly and plummet with its full weight beneath my feet onto the floor. At that moment, I felt the coldness of the room’s air brush and slash my glowing skin under the effect of the wine, causing my entire body’s muscles to shudder with a panting, exciting chill.

I headed with lost paces toward the wardrobe, and with fingers trembling with overflowing helplessness, I pulled out a highly short, light nightrobe made of silk. I donned it in haste, as if searching for a soft texture to calm the raging upheaval of my protesting senses. I sat on the edge of the mattress with fatigue, and raised the liquor bottle again to my lips with blind recklessness, swallowing from it other long, violent gulps without pausing.

Soon, the vision began to sway and blur before me, and my mind’s defensive walls began their total and complete collapse in favor of Robert’s buried memories.

Those intimate memories clasped upon my thinking with a brutal ferocity that left me with neither the strength nor the will to deter or repel them from me. Robert’s image flooded me with his full, familiar, and exciting details that had been carved into my essence... his hard chest muscles built with power, and how he used to encircle my waist with his massive, warm palms to pin me beneath him with an overwhelming tightness on the mattress.

I remembered with suspicious clarity the texture and size of his massive dick as it caressed my pussy with a blazing, burning heat while I lay helpless and submissive beneath him, and then how he used to thrust it inside me with violent, successive, and harsh strokes that shattered my entire being, making me writhe in madness and scream with muffled moans throughout his room while begging him with humiliation to increase my destruction and satisfaction.

My entrails constricted with violence and ferocity, and a sticky, hot, and intense wetness ascended to drown what was between my thighs in a manner that transcended my human capacity due to the alcohol already burning inside me. I could no longer endure this hell and the continuous burning pulsing in my pussy. Driven by an instinctive impulse led by drunkenness and overflowing lust, I rested my back against the pillows and opened my legs slowly and automatically, beginning to touch myself with trembling fingers.

I passed my palm with a shudder and hysteria over my abdomen and descended with it gradually to press with power and urgency between my thighs, closing my eyes tightly and imagining crazily that those bold touches were Robert’s violent touches that I had missed through three whole years of deprivation and withering.

A violent, fatal tremor traveled through my entire limbs the moment my wet fingers made contact with my hot skin beneath my abdomen.

A faint, panting, and trembling moan escaped from between my lips with an involuntary impulse, its raspy and hot echo vibrating throughout the silent room. My mind, numbed by the effect of the alcohol, was swimming in the waters of my black and delicious past with Robert, as if every gulp I swallowed from that cursed bottle were abundant fuel increasing the ferocity of the fires raging inside me.

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